Their Barren Luna

4: Three Ronans

“Go and lay down on the bed. Spread your legs,” he said.

So, he can talk like this. But he’s Keep pretending.

I wanted us to continue what had just happened because, truth be told, I enjoyed it—and the ache between my thighs was still there, pulsing. Is this what they call heat?

I didn’t even have time to process the thought before he shoved me hard, throwing me onto the bed.

Why isn’t he sleeping yet? Was the pill too small for him, or did it not work at all?

He leaned in, and before I knew it, his hand was on my p***y, sliding through my wetness.

“So, you’re already wet,” he murmured, then brought his fingers to my mouth.

“Taste yourself before I do,” he said.

I did—licking his hand slowly. He watched me closely, his eyes blinking like he was waiting for me to speak. Then, without warning, he shifted to my side and… started sleeping.

“Huh,” I exhaled. It worked.

I was still reeling from the ache between my thighs, that lingering heat that made me feel like I was on fire. my body was still trembling, craving him. I regretted making him sleep—how was I supposed to deal with these urges now

The thought of touching myself crossed my mind. I slid a finger toward my dripping p***y, ready to f**k myself… but I stopped.

My eyes flicked to his c**k, still hard and standing at attention even in his sleep. The sight made my mouth water. f**k it. I climbed on top of Alpha Ronan, straddling him, his c**k pressing against my ass. I bit my lip, grinding against him, the friction sending sparks through my body. But I stopped myself. No, not yet.

What if I do it, and end up craving him all day?

What if I started and couldn’t stop? What if I woke him up?

No. Better to just go home now that my plan had worked

I slid off the bed, grabbed my clothes, and dressed quickly. Instead of searching for money right away, I sat on the same couch where he’d been when I entered. My hands were shaking as I lit the last cigarette on the tray, inhaling deeply to calm my nerves. The smoke burned my lungs, but it did nothing to ease the fire burning between my legs. I smoked until it was finished.

Then I began searching the room for money to take with me—but there was nothing.

“What the f**k?” I muttered.

“Doesn’t he keep money with him?” I muttered under my breath, panic rising in my chest. “Did I risk my life just to find out there’s no f*****g money?”

“That’s impossible.”

“Nooooo,” I shouted—then quickly clamped a hand over my mouth, praying no one heard me.

I turned to leave, but then I remembered—the slap. That s**t hurt, and I wasn’t about to let it slide —and my promise to get revenge.

I rushed back to the bed, my anger flaring. “This,” I whispered, slapping his left cheek hard, “is for slapping me, you b***h Alpha.”

Another slap on his right cheek. “This is for not keeping money with you.”

And one more. “This is for making me risk my f*****g life.”

How I wished he could feel every one of those slaps.

Just as I turned to get off the bed… my heart stopped.

Two Alpha Ronans stood in the doorway. How could that be possible.

their muscular frames filling the doorway.

They were shirtless, both with long, wavy hair—one black, one brown. The same swirling dark tattoos stretched across their muscular torsos and arms. Broad chests. Powerful shoulders.

One leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, while the other just stared.

I glanced from them back to the Alpha Ronan snoring on the bed. They were identical—the same body, face, tattoos—everything.

The only difference was that the one on the bed had straight, silver-white hair tied back in a high ponytail… while the two at the door wore theirs loose.

“What did we just watch? Did she just slap Rhett?” the brown-haired one said, his voice carrying that low, amused rumble, like he had just witnessed the most ridiculous thing in the world.

Rhett?

I repeated the name in my head, my gaze darting back to the man sprawled on the bed, his hair spilling over the pillow, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths.

So that’s his name.

And if that’s Rhett… then—

My eyes flicked between him and the two shirtless men blocking the doorway. My mind clicked the pieces together so fast it made my head spin.

Triplets.

Not twins. Triplets.

My lips parted in shock.

Twins are forbidden in this pack, let alone triplets, because it's assumed twins bring destruction to the pack. Any couples that give birth to more than one pup will be killed.

Which could only mean one thing—their parents must have hidden the truth from the pack. Kept two of them in the shadows, hidden away while showing only one to the world.

And now… here they all were.

I thought of what Sila had told me—about the Alpha’s unpredictable moods. Three different personalities, she said. I thought she was exaggerating.

Oh my God. She wasn’t.

The brown-haired one chuckled, dragging my attention back to him.

“So… all his commands, all his rules…” His mouth curled into a grin sharp enough to cut. “He got betrayed by a she-wolf. Or… should I say… he got betrayed.” His eyes glittered with something I couldn’t name—mischief? Cruelty?

The one with black hair didn’t share his amusement. His jaw tightened, and his dark eyes sliced toward the brown-haired man in warning. That single glare was enough to snuff out the laughter, though it still clung faintly to the other’s lips.

“I don’t see anything funny here,” Black Hair said, voice low, each word precise as if he was biting them off. He uncrossed his arms with slow, deliberate movements—like a predator stretching before the hunt—and started toward me.

My instincts screamed danger.

I lifted my hands defensively, words spilling from my mouth before I could stop them.

“I will explain… I didn’t slap him for no reason—he slapped me first—”

The moment the words left my lips, I wished I could shove them back in.

Idiot.

The Alpha—whichever one this was—had the power to do whatever he wanted to me. That much I knew. My sharp tongue was going to get me killed one day.

“Please… I’m sorry,” I added quickly, my voice dropping, though it felt like forcing myself to bow my head was worse than the slap I’d given Rhett. I kept stepping back, my eyes fixed on the black-haired man’s face. His expression didn’t change—hard, unreadable, carved in stone—but it was the kind of stillness that promised violence.

And then I noticed something.

The black-haired one and the silver-haired one on the bed… they had the same sharpness in their gaze. That quiet, dangerous kind of anger. The brown-haired one, though—he was different. His smirk lingered, his shoulders loose, his body language almost casual. Almost. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was the kind who smiled while the knife slid in.

My back hit something solid. Cold.

The wall.

I froze, realizing I had nowhere left to retreat.

“On your knees,” he ordered.

The words dropped heavy in the air, each syllable carrying authority that seems it made a wolf stir uncomfortably inside me—even though I didn’t have one. My pride flared hot, smothering the little whisper in my head telling me to obey.

Instead of sinking to the floor, I forced my voice steady. “Please, listen to me—”

“I said—” his voice cracked like a whip— “on your knees.”

It wasn’t just volume. It was command.

My body tensed, but I didn’t move. Begging him earlier must have given him the idea he could bark orders at me. That wasn’t going to happen.

My chin lifted. “Why will I?” I asked, meeting his eyes head-on.

For a second, something dangerous flickered in his gaze.

Then it happened.

The slap was fast, a sharp explosion of heat against my cheek. My head snapped sideways, the impact ringing in my ears. My breath caught.

Pain bloomed across my face.

I turned my face back toward him slowly, my fingers pressing to my cheek. My nails bit into my skin as I held his gaze.

Anger flared bright and hot in my chest, fueling each breath until they came heavier, sharper. My muscles coiled, every instinct screaming at me to raise my hand and return the favor, consequences be damned.

I was right there—ready to slap him back.