When he finally got home he fell asleep immediately. But sleep wasn't exactly peaceful.
It started with smoke curling through the air, then....fire. Everywhere. The village was in flames, people shouting, running, total chaos. Ronan sprinted through it all, heart beating, looking for familiar faces. But nothing felt real. The heat was suffocating, and every time he thought he spotted someone, they blurred into the smoke.
And then there were the figures shadowy, cutting through his pack like it was nothing. He tried to fight, tried to help, but his limbs felt slow, heavy, like he was wading through water. His father was there one second and gone the next. His mother, clutching Elara, disappeared into the haze.
Then—
Something behind him.
A faceless figure, massive, looming. He barely had time to react before a blade was coming straight for him
"Ronan!"
His eyes snapped open, breath coming in short gasps. His cabin. No fire. No screaming. Just the dim light of early morning and huh?
Rook, standing over him, looking way too awake for this hour.
"You good?" Rook asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because you were making some weird noises. Sounded like you were fighting a bear in your sleep. Or maybe choking on something."
Ronan groaned, running a hand over his face. "Just a nightmare."
Rook flopped onto the edge of the bed. "That bad, huh? Want me to hold your hand? Kiss away your boo-boo, Sing you a lullaby?"
Ronan shot him a glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "I'm fine, idiot. Just... felt real. The pack was burning. Everything was a mess."
Rook's teasing expression faded slightly. "Well, we're not on fire. Yet. So maybe it's just your brain being dramatic."
Ronan let out a breath, nodding. Maybe Rook was right. Just a stupid dream. Nothing to worry about.
Still, as he got out of bed and stretched, shaking off the last remnants of sleep, he couldn't quite shake the uneasy feeling.
Ronan pulled on a shirt, still shaking off the weird feeling from his dream as he and Rook made their way out of the cabin.
"So, what's on the agenda today, future Alpha?" Rook teased, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "More brooding? Maybe some unnecessary glaring at your dad?"
Ronan rolled his eyes. "I'll squeeze it in between training and being harassed by you."
Rook smirked. "Sounds like a full schedule."
They made their way toward the training grounds, where warriors were already running drills. A few younger pack members sparred under Jarek's watchful eye, and a couple of elders sat nearby, pretending not to judge every move. Ronan and Rook hadn't even stepped onto the field before Jarek's booming voice cut through the air.
"Took you long enough! Get your asses moving."
Ronan sighed. "Morning to you, too."
Jarek didn't respond, just tossed Ronan a wooden training sword. "Pair up. And don't embarrass yourself this time."
"Wow. I feel so loved."
Rook grabbed his own training weapon, spinning it once before grinning. "You ready to get your ego bruised?"
"You mean am I ready to wipe the floor with you? Always."
They squared off, falling into an easy rhythm. Ronan knew Rook's fighting style like the back of his hand unpredictable, but always with a hint of recklessness. They clashed, the wooden swords smacking together, neither willing to give the other an inch.
Around them, other pack members paused to watch, bets being whispered among the younger wolves. It was always like this when they fought, half sparring, half performance.
But just as Ronan was about to press forward and take the upper hand, a sudden sharp whistle rang through the air. All movement on the training field stopped.
Jarek turned toward the source of the sound, his expression instantly shifting to something more serious. At the far end of the clearing, a scout had arrived, looking slightly out of breath.
"Message from the Alpha," the scout announced. "He wants Ronan at the council hall. Now."
Ronan frowned, lowering his sword. "Great. More vague, ominous meetings. My favorite."
Rook nudged him. "Hey, maybe he finally decided to tell you what the hell is going on."
Ronan wasn't so sure, but there was only one way to find out.
With a sigh, he tossed his training sword to the side and started toward the council hall.
.
.
Ronan stepped into the council hall, the air inside thick with tension. The elders sat in their usual spots, eyes sharp and unreadable. His father stood at the head of the room, arms crossed, a deep frown settled on his face. Whatever this was about, it wasn't good.
"You took your time," Rael said, his voice level but carrying that unmistakable tone of authority.
"Yeah, well, I was in the middle of winning a sparring match," Ronan shot back, folding his arms. "What's so urgent?"
His father ignored the comment, instead nodding toward a scout standing near the entrance. "Tell him."
The scout stepped forward, clearing his throat. "We found signs near the western border. Tracks, scents whoever it was, they were careful, but not careful enough. It wasn't a rogue, and it wasn't another pack. We think... we think it's them."
Silence fell over the room. Ronan glanced at the council members, noting the way their jaws tightened, their eyes flickering with something close to fear.
"Okayyyy," he said slowly. "Who's 'them'?"
Rael's expression darkened. "Not your concern."
Ronan clenched his fists. "Oh, come on. I'm supposed to be the future Alpha, but you keep shutting me out like I'm some clueless pup."
His father's gaze was steady. "Because for now, you are."
Heat flared in Ronan's chest. He was sick of this being treated like an outsider to his own pack's problems. But before he could argue, one of the elders, an older woman named Mirella, spoke up.
"Ronan," she said gently, "your father is only trying to protect you. We all are. There are things you aren't ready to know yet."
"Then make me ready."
Rael sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "We're increasing border patrols again. You and Rook will start taking night shifts with the senior warriors. No arguments."
Ronan knew better than to push further when his father used that tone. He swallowed his frustration and nodded stiffly. "Fine."
Rael held his gaze for a moment longer before dismissing him with a sharp nod. "Go. Train harder. We'll talk when it's time."
Ronan turned on his heel and left, anger simmering under his skin. He didn't know what his father was hiding, .
.
Ronan stormed out of the council hall, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. Rook was waiting outside, leaning casually against a wooden post, chewing on a piece of jerky.
"Let me guess," Rook said, pushing off the post. "Your dad gave you the 'you're not ready' speech again?"
Ronan let out a harsh breath. "He's so damn secretive. I'm supposed to be the next Alpha, but he treats me like I don't deserve to know anything." He kicked at a loose stone, sending it skidding across the dirt. "They found something at the western border. Tracks. They think it's 'them,' whoever the hell that is."
Rook frowned, tossing the jerky aside. "And he wouldn't tell you more?"
"Nope. Just threw me onto night patrol like that's supposed to make me feel included."
Rook clapped him on the back. "Well, lucky for you, I'm stuck on that shift too. So at least you won't be alone in your brooding."
Ronan gave a half-smirk. "Oh, great. Endless hours of your bad jokes. Just what I needed."