Ronan’s stronghold was a crumbling fortress hidden deep in the northern ridges, all stone and shadow. He dragged Serah inside by her arm, her wrists now bound with silver chains that burned against her skin. The mate bond screamed in her chest—Damon’s fury and fear pulsing through it like a second heartbeat.
“You’ll learn your place soon enough,” Ronan snarled, throwing her into a ritual chamber lit by black candles. Ancient runes glowed faintly on the walls. In the center stood a stone altar stained with old blood.
Serah spat at his feet. “I’ll never be yours.”
Ronan laughed and backhanded her hard enough to split her lip. “Your blood is the key, Moonblood. Once I drink it under the right moon, I’ll control every wolf in this region. Starting with your precious Damon.”
He shoved her o
