Faint streaks of sunlight broke the horizon when Ronan reached the hidden rogue lair. Dew clung to the forest floor, and his breath puffed in the crisp morning air. Shadows lengthened around the makeshift entrance—earthen walls and a narrow passage that vanished into the hillside. A guard, startled by Ronan’s sudden appearance, fumbled for his weapon.
Without hesitation, Ronan lunged, disarming the rogue with practiced ease. The man sprawled onto damp leaves, dazed, as Ronan barreled deeper into the warren of dimly lit tunnels.
He had followed faint tracks, half-lost footprints, and fragments of Stormborn intel to find his daughter’s whereabouts. The knowledge that she’d chosen to hide among these outlaws stoked equal parts anger and concern in his chest. He recalled Layla’s tearful conf
