Chapter 02

Lila paced the chamber like a caged animal. The explosion had shaken the palace to its core, both figuratively and literally. Dust had rained down from the vaulted ceiling, settling in the cracks of the worn stone floor. Somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of alarms buzzed, accompanied by the sharp cries of Ronan’s warriors preparing for battle.

Her heart hammered in her chest. She should have stayed put like Ronan ordered. She wanted to stay—her instincts screamed at her to let someone stronger, more prepared, handle the threat. But the stubborn voice in her head wouldn’t let her sit idle.

“No way I’m playing damsel in distress,” she muttered.

Her fingers brushed the mark on her neck. The strange heat it radiated unsettled her; it was like it had a heartbeat of its own, synced to Ronan’s. The sensation didn’t hurt, but it tethered her to him in ways she didn’t fully understand—or trust.

The door burst open. A soldier clad in black armor, his face partially obscured by a biomechanical helmet, pointed at her.

“You’re to stay here,” he growled.

“Like hell I am,” Lila snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. “What’s happening?”

“Ronan’s enemies. Izael’s faction.” The soldier’s words were clipped. “They breached the perimeter with explosives.”

Her stomach sank. She didn’t know much about Izael—only that Ronan spoke his name with a venomous edge. But from the looks of things, this was no small skirmish.

“And you think I’m just going to sit here?” She grabbed the blade she’d managed to scavenge earlier, its crude design hardly reassuring but better than nothing.

The soldier hesitated. “The king—”

“The king doesn’t own me,” Lila cut in. “He doesn’t get to tell me what to do.”

She shoved past him before he could stop her, adrenaline driving her steps as she bolted into the corridor.

The palace was chaos incarnate. Ronan’s forces, armored warriors with glowing veins and jagged weapons, clashed with Izael’s faction in brutal hand-to-hand combat. The air was thick with the scent of charred metal and the sharp tang of alien blood—an acidic, nauseating stench.

Lila ducked as a beam of energy scorched the wall beside her. A warrior with skeletal implants lunged at her, his blade whistling through the air. She rolled to the side, her blade clanging against his with a force that numbed her arm.

“Out of the way!” A familiar voice roared.

Ronan.

He was a force of nature. His massive frame moved with deadly precision, every strike of his blade cutting through the air like a storm. The energy coursing through his body glowed brighter than before, his scars almost luminous against the pale, ruined flesh.

He reached her in seconds, pulling her behind him with a snarl. “What are you doing out here?”

“Helping!” she snapped.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” His eyes blazed, but she stood her ground.

“I’m not some helpless little thing you can lock in a room.”

Before he could respond, another wave of Izael’s soldiers stormed into the corridor. Ronan shoved her back, his attention shifting entirely to the battle. She watched in awe as he unleashed his power—a mix of brute strength and alien energy that seemed to ripple through the very air.

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. The way he moved, the sheer force of his presence, was terrifying and mesmerizing all at once.

As the battle raged on, Lila couldn’t ignore the pull between them. It wasn’t just the mark—it was something deeper, more primal. His fierce protectiveness, his willingness to put himself in harm’s way for her, chipped away at her defenses.

But it wasn’t just an attraction. It was something that unnerved her.

She could see the pain behind his power, the isolation that clung to him like a shadow. For all his strength, Ronan was a man who had lost everything—his people, his humanity, even his sense of self.

Why did that make her chest ache?

By the time the battle ended, the palace was in ruins. Smoke curled through the air, and the bodies of fallen warriors littered the ground.

Ronan stood in the center of the chaos, blood dripping from his blade. His chest heaved with exertion, but his gaze was cold and unyielding as he surveyed the aftermath.

“Bring Izael’s lieutenant,” he commanded.

A soldier dragged a battered figure forward, tossing him to the ground at Ronan’s feet.

“You’ll tell me why Izael broke the treaty,” Ronan said, his voice low and dangerous.

The lieutenant spat blood, his cybernetic eye flickering. “You think you can hold us with your little human? You think binding yourself to her makes you strong?”

Ronan’s jaw tightened. “You’re testing my patience.”

“She makes you weak,” the lieutenant sneered. “Izael doesn’t answer to a king who clings to ghosts.”

Ronan’s blade slashed through the air, stopping inches from the lieutenant’s throat. “You’re mistaken,” he said coldly. “She makes me unstoppable.”

The declaration sent a ripple through the surrounding soldiers. Lila, watching from the sidelines, felt her cheeks flush.

Later, in the stillness of his private chambers, Ronan stood by the shattered window overlooking the palace grounds.

Lila entered hesitantly, her usual defiance softened by the day’s events. “You saved me out there,” she said, breaking the silence.

Ronan didn’t turn to face her. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his voice distant. “I failed to save my people.”

She frowned, stepping closer. “What do you mean?”

He exhaled slowly, his broad shoulders rising and falling. “Threnax was once a beacon of power. I was its protector, its champion. But when the plague came…” He trailed off, his fists clenching.

“I was one of the first infected,” he continued, his voice thick with bitterness. “I should have died. Instead, I became this.” He gestured to his scarred and biomechanical body. “A living reminder of my failure.”

“Ronan—”

“I watched as my people were consumed,” he interrupted, his tone harsh. “Friends, family…everyone I swore to protect. And when they looked to me for hope, all they saw was a monster.”

Her chest tightened. She didn’t know what to say, but instinct drove her to place a hand on his arm. His skin was cold, but the pulse beneath it was steady.

“You’re not a monster,” she said softly. “You’re still here. Still fighting.”

For the first time, he looked at her. His silver eyes held a vulnerability that made her heart ache. “Why?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why do you believe in me?”

She hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I’ve seen you. The real you. And I think…you’re worth fighting for.”

For a moment, the tension between them was palpable. Then he reached out, his hand brushing her cheek.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice raw.

“Maybe not,” she replied, her lips curving into a faint smile. “But I’m here anyway.”

Before Ronan could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the chamber. One of his soldiers stepped inside, his expression grim.

“My king,” the soldier said. “Izael’s forces are regrouping. They’re preparing to attack again.”

Ronan’s jaw tightened, his demeanor shifting instantly. He turned to Lila, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and determination.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

“Not a chance,” she replied, already reaching for her blade.

His lips quirked into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” she shot back.

The soldier cleared his throat. “They’re moving fast. We don’t have much time.”

Ronan nodded, his expression hardening. “Then we’ll stop them.