5.
1014 Words
Ronan
I don’t slow down when I leave the office.
The door closes softly behind me, and for three full strides I keep moving like nothing inside me has shifted. Like I haven’t just altered the future of my pack with a signature and a woman who still smells like a bond she cut herself free from.
Only when I reach the end of the corridor do I let out a breath.
Cage stirs immediately. Well, he says, unmistakably pleased, that was interesting.
“Quiet,” I mutter.
You brought a woman into our den, Cage continues, ignoring me, sat her across from us, and told her she’d be Luna for the rest of our lives. I’d say that earns commentary.
I descend the stairs toward the main level, nodding once to a passing guard. Ashwood Falls is awake now. Not loud, not frantic — just moving with purpose. Wolves crossing paths, packs of children being herded toward lessons, the steady rhythm of a territory that knows exactly who leads it.
They don’t question me. They trust me.
What they question — what the elders will never stop questioning — is the absence beside me.
Not anymore, Cage murmurs, satisfied.
“Not yet,” I reply. “Tonight.”
I turn down a side corridor, boots echoing softly against stone. My fingers curl briefly around the edge of the folder tucked beneath my arm. Permanent. No end date. No convenient exit.
That was intentional.
A temporary Luna would have invited speculation. A contract with a timeline would have told the elders exactly how much pressure to apply and when.
June Archer isn’t temporary. And more importantly — she didn’t ask to be.
Cage hums low in my chest.
She argued, he says approvingly. Did you notice that?
“Yes.”
She pushed back. Questioned us. Told us she wasn’t good enough.
That, too, I noticed.
I step into the training hall briefly, watching a group of adolescents spar under a beta’s supervision. Strong. Disciplined. Focused.
Everything Ashwood Falls prides itself on.
Everything my former mate would have despised.
The memory rises unbidden.
Two years ago. She had arrived smiling too brightly, heels clicking against stone that had never been meant for them. She’d taken in my packhouse with an appraising gaze — not curious, not respectful. Measuring.
She’d asked about renovations before she asked about people. She’d wanted rooms cleared, routines adjusted, wolves reassigned so her life would feel smoother. Prettier. More impressive.
Cage had hated her instantly.
She smelled like hunger, he growls now. Not need. Hunger.
I rejected her before the pack ever learned her name. The bond fought me for it — burned through my chest, snapped like a tendon pulled too far. I’d locked myself in my quarters and ridden it out alone, teeth clenched, blood on my tongue.
Pain fades. Regret doesn’t.
And I’d never regretted that choice.
I leave the hall and continue toward the administrative wing.
June Archer isn’t polished.
She didn’t smile for advantage or ask what she’d gain. She asked what it would cost her — and whether she’d be allowed to keep herself intact.
That alone made her dangerous.
She smells like resolve, Cage adds. And loss.
“Yes.”
And she’s beautiful.
“That’s irrelevant.”
Cage laughs outright. You noticed.
I stop walking.
For a moment, I allow myself to picture her as she stood in my office — chin lifted, jaw tight, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion clinging to her scent. She hadn’t dressed for me. She hadn’t tried to impress.
And yet.
The way she’d flushed when I told her I’d have something sent up for her to wear.
The way her pulse jumped when she realized what standing beside me would mean.
She’ll clean up dangerously well, Cage says smugly. Did you see the lines of her? All that quiet strength?
“I saw,” I admit.
The admission settles something between us.
I resume walking, climbing the stairs toward my quarters this time. I pause once outside the wall that separates my rooms from hers.
Her scent is strong in the hallway. She’s in there. Not asleep. Not pacing. Thinking.
Cage presses closer, curious.
She’s scared, he says. But she didn’t run.
“No.”
And Sutton won’t touch her now.
That thought sharpens everything in me.
“He made his intentions clear,” I say quietly. “He wanted her close. Hidden. Convenient.”
Cage bares his teeth beneath my skin. He would have broken her.
“Yes,” I agree. “Eventually.”
June Archer rejected him anyway. Spoke the words knowing they might not be accepted. Knowing the bond would punish her. Knowing she might be alone afterward.
That kind of spine doesn’t bend for status.
It holds.
I step into my quarters and set the contract on the desk, already mentally drafting instructions for her new wardrobe.
Elegant. Commanding. Nothing delicate. Nothing childish. Something that says chosen without trying too hard.
At six, she’ll walk into the council meeting at my side.
They’ll see her first — as they always do.
They’ll see her composure. Her calm. The way she doesn’t cling or defer. The way she stands like she belongs exactly where she is.
Then they’ll see me.
Satisfied.
Cage settles, content and alert.
At least this one, he says quietly, will care what happens to our pack.
“That’s why I chose her.”
And because she’s hot.
I snort despite myself. “That’s not the reason.”
It’s not hurting, Cage replies.
I move toward the window, looking out over Ashwood Falls as the morning fully breaks.
By tonight, the pack will have a Luna.
Not a decoration. Not a trophy. Not a woman who needs to be managed.
A partner in name. A shield in truth.
And if time does what it always does — if proximity and purpose turn into something deeper — then I’ll face that when it comes.
For now, June Archer is under my protection.
And no one takes what belongs to Ronan Ashwood.
Not ever.
- Writer
