Ronan ran through the trees, through the night, through the roaring storm in his chest.
The ruins were far behind him now, but the bond—the shattered, unraveling mate bond—still burned inside him.
Selene.
No.
Seléthis.
The name clawed at his skull, a curse, a betrayal, a truth he refused to accept.
She was never just his.
She was never his at all.
The ruins had spoken.
And Ronan?
He had become nothing more than a shadow in her past.
Pain lanced through him, deep and gutting, as the mate bond twisted violently in his chest.
It wasn’t gone.
Not yet.
But it was fraying, unraveling strand by strand, as if the ruins themselves were severing it, as if fate was cutting him out of her story. His wolf snarled inside him, enraged, confused, wounded.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to
