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Chapter 3 – The Fire Inside

Selene stood frozen in the Rogue King's quarters long after the door closed behind him. The fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth an unwelcome contrast to the cold fury simmering in her veins.

Safe.

The word lingered in the air like a cruel joke.

She was trapped.

Her wrists still ached from the ropes, and exhaustion clung to her like a second skin. But she wouldn't rest. Not here. Not in his den.

Her eyes darted around the room, scanning for an escape.

The window was too small to squeeze through. The walls were solid wood, reinforced with iron. The only door led back to the camp, where rogues prowled like restless shadows.

No easy way out.

Selene exhaled sharply, frustration curling inside her like smoke.

This wasn't over.

She would escape.

Just… not tonight.

Her body betrayed her, a deep ache settling in her bones. She had been running on adrenaline, but now, with no immediate danger, the weight of exhaustion pressed down hard.

Her gaze drifted to the massive bed in the corner.

No.

She wouldn't sleep there.

Instead, she lowered herself onto the wooden floor, pressing her back against the wall.

The fire flickered, casting long shadows across the room.

She closed her eyes.

Just for a moment.

—

She woke to the sound of footsteps.

Her eyes snapped open, muscles tensing.

The door swung open, and Ronan stepped inside, carrying a tray of food. His golden eyes landed on her, lingering on her curled-up form against the wall.

Something flickered in his expression—something close to irritation.

"You slept on the floor?"

Selene pushed herself up, ignoring the stiffness in her limbs. "And if I did?"

He set the tray down on the table, his movements controlled. "The bed was there for a reason."

She lifted her chin. "I'd rather sleep in the dirt than share a space that reeks of you."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Liar."

Selene's teeth clenched.

"You think you know me?" she snapped.

Ronan leaned against the table, arms crossed. "I know what you're feeling."

Her stomach twisted.

"The mate bond—"

"Is a curse," she cut him off.

His golden eyes darkened. "A curse? Is that what your father taught you?"

She refused to answer.

Ronan exhaled slowly, rubbing his jaw. "Eat," he said, nodding toward the tray. "You'll need your strength."

Selene stared at the food—a simple meal of roasted meat, bread, and fruit. Her stomach twisted in hunger, but she refused to move.

"I'm not eating anything you give me," she muttered.

Ronan arched a brow. "You think I'd poison you?"

She met his gaze with open defiance. "Wouldn't be the worst thing you've done."

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then, to her surprise, Ronan grabbed the plate, tore off a piece of the meat, and popped it into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, then smirked.

"There. No poison."

Selene's fingers curled into fists.

Damn him.

Her body betrayed her once more, hunger gnawing at her insides.

Slowly, stiffly, she moved toward the table. She snatched a piece of bread and took a bite, keeping her eyes locked on Ronan as if he might strike the moment she let her guard down.

He didn't move.

Just watched.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked between bites.

Ronan's expression shifted, but he didn't answer right away.

Finally, he said, "Because you're mine."

Selene's breath hitched, rage and something far more dangerous twisting in her chest.

"You don't own me," she hissed.

He pushed off the table and moved closer, stopping just a breath away.

His heat licked at her skin.

His scent wrapped around her.

Selene's pulse thundered, her wolf stirring, recognizing something she refused to acknowledge.

Ronan tilted his head slightly. "Keep telling yourself that, little wolf."

Before she could retort, he turned and walked out, leaving her alone with a fire she couldn't put out.

—

The next day, Selene learned just how much of a prisoner she truly was.

She wasn't locked up.

But the moment she stepped outside the cabin, two rogue guards flanked her, their silent presence a constant reminder that she wasn't free.

Eyes followed her wherever she went.

Curious. Wary.

Some rogues looked at her with amusement, others with barely concealed hostility.

And then there were those who looked at her with something far more dangerous.

Hope.

Selene didn't understand it, and she didn't care.

She had one goal: escape.

Her chance came near midday.

She spotted a gap in the patrol, a brief moment when no one was looking.

She ran.

The world blurred around her, trees rushing past as she bolted toward the forest.

Faster.

Faster.

A snarl ripped through the air behind her.

Too late.

Something slammed into her, sending her crashing to the ground.

Selene gasped, twisting, fighting, but her attacker was already pinning her down.

A rogue.

Not Ronan.

His grin was sharp, his grip bruising. "Feisty little thing, aren't you?"

Selene snarled, baring her teeth.

"Let. Me. Go."

The rogue chuckled. "Now, now. I don't think the Alpha would—"

A blur of motion.

Then—pain.

Not hers.

The rogue stiffened, his eyes going wide. A second later, he crumpled to the ground, revealing Ronan standing behind him, his claws dripping red.

Selene's breath caught.

Ronan's golden eyes burned as he turned to her.

"Are you hurt?"

She scrambled to her feet, shaking her head.

His jaw tightened.

Then, without warning, he grabbed the dead rogue's body and flung it aside like trash. His wolves, who had gathered to watch, flinched.

"You all saw," Ronan growled, his voice laced with fury. "She is mine."

Selene bristled.

"You don't get to claim me!" she shouted.

Ronan's gaze snapped to her.

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

Then he stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear.

"You are under my protection, Selene."

She swallowed hard, her heartbeat raging.

"You don't get to decide that," she whispered.

His eyes darkened.

"Yes, I do."

—

Back in the cabin, Selene paced, anger pulsing in her veins.

He had saved her.

But he had also claimed her. Again.

Damn him.

Damn this bond.

The door opened, and Ronan stepped inside.

Selene spun to face him. "I didn't ask for your protection."

His gaze remained unreadable. "I don't care."

Her nails bit into her palms. "You think killing one of your own proves something?"

He studied her for a moment, then sighed. "No. But it keeps you safe."

Selene wanted to scream.

Instead, she exhaled sharply, stepping closer.

"Let me go, Ronan."

His golden eyes searched hers.

Then, softly—

"No."

Her breath caught.

"Why?" she whispered.

He didn't answer right away.

Then—

"Because I can't."

For the first time, something raw flickered in his gaze.

Some

thing real.

Selene's chest tightened.

She hated him.

She hated him.

So why did his voice make her tremble?

She turned away, swallowing hard.

This wasn't over.

She would find a way to escape.

But part of her feared—deep down—

That maybe she didn't want to.

—