Ronan pushed me behind him without a word, positioning his body squarely between me and the hallway, every muscle coiled and ready in a way that made the air itself feel charged with danger.
Show yourself, he called out, voice carrying none of its usual warmth, pure Alpha command instead. I can smell you. Whoever you are, you're not leaving this house without a conversation either way.
For a long moment nothing happened, silence stretching thin enough to hear my own heartbeat hammering against my ribs. Then a figure stepped out from a doorway further down the hall, hands raised, unarmed, and I felt Ronan's whole body tense harder at the sight of him.
He was younger than I expected, maybe mid twenties, wearing a jacket with patches I did not recognize, neither Ashborn nor Hollow Fangs.
