I know that smell.
Ronan was behind the white wolf in his human form, along with the other Alphas. He wore a black shirt with rolled-up sleeves, the loose fabric lazily tucked into the front of his belt. He walked in, his leather boots stepping on the broken wood as it scraped against the tile, his amber eyes searching the room, stopping as they fell on Rem.
Rem’s heart pounded with relief as she locked eyes with Ronan. The first thing he did was walk in her direction, a hateful strain ossifying as he passed Marcus. The two shifters exchanged glares before Ronan focused on Rem.
Amber eyes turned blue as he glanced over her body, stopping when he was only one step away. The size of him formed a barrier between her and the room, his scent wrapping her in a surprising security. "Ókei?" he asked with concern.
His attention was hers before anyone else's.
In the basic Icelandic that she knew, Rem replied, "I am okay."
"Good," he said in his native tongue.
Nia lowered her head in respect at his presence. He stole one more glance at Rem, the amber returning when he faced Marcus.
R O N A N
Ronan facedthe group that was full of disorder. He couldn't believe how careless this was.
He looked at the newer Elder’s pale, round face. "What is your name?" Ronan asked.
"Jola, my liege," she replied.
"Jola, explain to me where the logic is in placing the Silvers in the home of an unmated Alpha?"
She briefly bit her lip. "I didn't have the option in that, sir," she began, her gaze darting around the room. "Surely it's notthatgrave?Youare here, unmated, and unaffected. It's not like Marcus can mate them—"
Ronan reeled. "This is thoughtless, theentiresituation," he countered, gesturing to Rem. "She has no way to defend herself. You should have brought her tomeor another mated Alpha, if she was in danger."
Whatever small hook Rem’s scent pierced within his mind only deepened with each encounter, to the point that the rage he felt when he learned of where she had been taken surprised even him. Sure, there was the uncertainty of it all, but it was in his nature to feel protective, and even possessive, once that hook had pierced his wolven heart.
He just didn’t think it would compound so quickly.
Not only was he still processing what that meant to him, but he also had to analyze these political undertones; Rem being here was like slicing right at his reins of power.
Marcus was known to clutch to his grudges like a beggar to food, and Rem was a sitting duck for revenge against Ronan.
Jola's head lowered as a sign of submission. "Once again, I am sorry. I did not organize this. My pack was from the Rocky Mountains and destroyed in the war. I only arrived here three months ago. Marcus was an Alpha, so I thought that if Imari commanded us to bring them to him, then it meant we could respect and trust him."
Allard snorted, standing behind Ronan. "Just because he is an Alpha doesn't entitle him to another Alpha's respect.”
"Which he does the opposite of," Varga sniggered, flipping her maroon hair over her shoulder as she glared at Marcus.
Marcus ignored the others as he scowled at Ronan. "You're the one leaving for a month while your Silver has to fend for herself. You've no room to talk."
"And if this continues, then I will stay," Ronan hissed, his muscles tensing as he got closer to Marcus. "It's a sad affair when I can't trust an Alpha who is supposed to be an ally. Your loyalty means wolf shit."
"Suggesting treason, then?" Marcus asked, his one good eye glaring at Ronan.
"It's not above your character to suggest such a thing."
"That's a high thing to accuse," Jola said in the background.
"It's not an accusation," Ronan said, scowling at Marcus. "Just an observation."
Ronan knew, somehow, that something was going on that he could not see. He didn’t know what, or if it could even be connected to the Callons or Fiona. War always had a way of testing loyalties, and if the rumors were true, then humanity would look to add more pelts to their hunter’s collections. Ronan thought back to the shifter he’d shot in the woods, the one who had decided that humans were the winning bet.‘Crowley means fucking business. Humans are pissed. So are the witches. The war isn't over, brother. It just took a pause.'
It was selfish of that rogue to abandon his kin, and both the Callons and Marcus were selfish. If they believed in a predestined loss for their kind, then wouldn’t they act accordingly?
