Sage’s POV

I remembered that we were still in the middle of something important.

The world meeting.

Ronan strode to his seat at the center of the elevated platform, exuding dominance, his every step measured, powerful, commanding.

Every wolf in the room lowered their heads in submission, their bodies stiff with respect.

I didn’t.

Not because I wasn’t respectful—but because I was still too stunned, too fixated on him, too caught in the chaos of emotions unraveling inside me to think about protocol.

His dark, unreadable eyes flicked to me for half a second—then moved on.

I clenched my jaw.

Fine.

If he wanted to act like he didn’t know me, if he wanted to pretend that he didn’t just feel what I felt, then so be it.

I could wait.

The meeting began, the discussion quickly turning to the reason they had all been called here—the coup.

Tension thickened the air as Alphas from various packs took turns speaking.

“We cannot afford to be reckless about this,” Alpha Vaughn of the Shadowfang Pack said, his voice measured. “Declaring war before we have solid proof would be foolish. We need more information.”

“We don’t have time for more information,” another Alpha countered. “Whoever is behind this is already making their move.”

“Which is exactly why we must be careful,” Vaughn shot back.

My father remained silent, listening, his expression unreadable.

Ronan, too, said nothing. He sat back in his chair, his fingers loosely curled over the armrests, watching, his presence alone enough to keep the room on edge.

And yet, despite how detached he seemed, I felt his emotions ripple through the bond—restraint, impatience, calculation.

A long debate followed. Some Alphas wanted preemptive action, others argued for diplomacy.

But it was all political maneuvering.

No one was actually discussing what mattered.

And I was tired of waiting.

So I did something reckless.

I raised my hand.

A ripple of surprise spread through the room. Few unmated wolves spoke at meetings like this—let alone the daughter of an Alpha who was supposed to remain silent.

Ronan’s gaze snapped to me.

My heart pounded, but I held firm.

“Go ahead,” he said, his voice smooth but void of warmth.

I swallowed. “Has anyone considered that the best way to prevent an uprising is to address the root cause? If wolves feel the need to overthrow their king, shouldn’t we be asking why?”

Silence.

Some Alphas exchanged glances. Others sneered.

Ronan’s expression remained unreadable.

Then, in a low, cutting voice, he said:

“I don’t recall asking for the opinion of a pup who has no experience in matters of war.”

The words cut deeper than they should have.

Heat rushed to my face, a mixture of anger, hurt, and embarrassment surging through me.

My mate had just dismissed me. In front of everyone.

The bond between us pulsed—raw and angry.

I clenched my fists. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I’m not a pup.”

His brow arched. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Laughter rippled through the hall.

I felt like I had been slapped.

This wasn’t Ronan.

Not my Ronan.

Not the man who had whispered my name like a prayer in my dreams, who had held me close, who had promised—

My teeth ground together.

Fine. If he wanted to humiliate me, then I’d make sure he regretted it.

I lifted my chin. “I suppose that’s fair,” I said, my voice deceptively calm. “You probably know more about being a pup than I do, considering you’re the one who’s been sneaking into my dreams since I was fifteen.”

Silence.

Complete, absolute silence.

The entire room stilled.

Ronan’s expression finally, finally cracked. His fingers dug into the armrests, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.

But he didn’t deny it immediately.

The other Alphas turned, confused murmurs spreading through the hall.

And that was when I knew—I had said too much.

I had just exposed our connection.

Ronan slowly stood from his chair, his movements controlled, deliberate. Dangerous.

Every instinct in me screamed to back down.

But I couldn’t.

Not when his entire demeanor shifted—from cold indifference to something else.

Something sharp. Wild. Possessive.

Something I didn’t quite understand.

And as he finally, truly looked at me, acknowledging what we both already knew, I realized something terrifying.

I might be his mate…

But that didn’t mean he wanted me.

Sage’s POV

Whispers.

The entire hall was buzzing with them.

I could feel the weight of a hundred eyes boring into me, shock and speculation thick in the air.

My father was staring at me, confusion flickering across his face, but I ignored him. I couldn’t look at him—not when my entire world was unraveling before me.

Ronan was my mate.

The man I had dreamed of, the man I had trusted, the man who had promised me things in the quiet of my subconscious—

And he was standing before me, staring at me like I was nothing.

Nothing.

He didn’t even look surprised anymore.

No, now his expression was something else entirely.

Cold. Calculated. Ruthless.

He took a step forward, his towering presence somehow even more suffocating than before.

The whispers in the room died.

When he spoke, his voice was lethal.

“You expect me to believe that?” he said, slow and deliberate, as if he were mocking me.

I swallowed hard, but I didn’t back down. I wouldn’t.

“I don’t expect anything,” I shot back, forcing my voice to remain steady, even as my chest tightened painfully. “I’m simply stating the truth.”

Ronan’s lips curled in a smirk—not the kind I was used to. Not the warm, teasing kind he had given me in my dreams.

No. This was cruel.

“The truth?” he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. “The truth is that you are either delusional—or you’re lying. Either way, you’re an embarrassment.”

A sharp sting tore through my chest, the mate bond twisting violently inside me.

I knew what he was doing.

I felt what he was doing.

He was tearing into me on purpose. Destroying me.

And still, I refused to look away.

“Say whatever you want,” I said, lifting my chin. “It won’t change anything. You felt it. You know what we are.”

A flicker of something flashed through his eyes—something so quick, so fleeting, I almost missed it.

Then, he scoffed.

“Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as if I disgusted him.

The whispers in the hall swelled.

Some Alphas shifted uncomfortably. Others smirked, entertained by my humiliation.

And Ronan?

He smirked right along with them.

I lifted my chin, even as my lungs screamed for air.

Even as my heart shattered.

Ronan studied me for a moment, his golden eyes gleaming with something almost like… disappointment.

“Still standing, little wolf?” His voice was quiet, a private mockery only I could hear.

Little wolf. It stung. I said nothing.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. Then his smirk returned, sharper than before.

And then—

He laughed.

A cold, sharp laugh, designed to cut through me like a blade.

The room echoed with it, other Alphas chuckling along, feeding off his display.

“She actually believes it,” he mused, shaking his head as if this was nothing more than an amusing inconvenience. “You’ve spent too much time in your dreams, little wolf. You must have confused fantasy with reality.”

My fingers trembled at my sides, my nails digging into my palms so hard they might draw blood.

Ronan leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, his smirk widening.

“Did you really think I would want you?”

I swallowed, but my throat was dry, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Did you think I’d take one look at you and throw myself at your feet?” he continued, his voice a whisper only I could hear. “Did you think I’d be grateful?”

A slow shake of his head.

“You are nothing to me.”

The bond recoiled violently, screaming in protest, but I forced myself to stay still. To hold my ground.

I would not break.

Not here.

Ronan straightened, raising his voice again.

“I don’t need a mate,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

My breath caught in my throat.

The bond tightened, like a noose wrapping around my heart.

“I don’t want a mate,” he continued, each word slicing through me like a dagger. “Least of all one as foolish and weak as you.”

Foolish. Weak.

The words felt like a slap.

I clenched my fists so tightly my nails bit into my palms, but I refused to let the tears building behind my eyes fall.

Not here. Not in front of them.

Ronan took another step toward me, towering, suffocating, merciless.

“Do you understand?” he said, tilting his head slightly.

My throat burned. I wanted to scream, to demand why.

Why are you doing this?

Why are you pretending I don’t matter?

But I couldn’t.

Because it didn’t matter.

Because no matter how much I ached, no matter how much I wanted to believe that this was all some kind of horrible mistake—

Ronan was about to reject me.

The realization settled over me like ice, numbing, freezing, choking.

My wolf whimpered, struggling against the pain, against the impending loss.

A rejection was not just words.

It was agony.

The severing of a bond so deep, so intrinsic to my soul, that it could leave wolves broken, ruined, empty.

And yet, despite the horror of it—despite everything—

I refused to beg.

I lifted my chin, even as my lungs screamed for air.

Even as my heart shattered.

Ronan’s eyes narrowed. “I, Ronan St—”

“Enough.”

The deep, commanding voice cut through the room like a blade.

I jerked my head to the side—my father.

His face was stony, unreadable, but I knew him well enough to recognize the tightness in his jaw.

He was furious.

Not at me—no, never at me.

At Ronan.

But he couldn’t show it.

So instead, he bowed his head ever so slightly, his voice measured, respectful.

“I apologize for my daughter’s… lack of decorum, Your Majesty,” he said carefully. “I ask that we all ignore her slip-up and return to the matter at hand.”

A tense silence followed.

Ronan’s gaze flicked between me and my father, his expression unreadable.

Then, after what felt like an eternity—

“Hmph.”

Ronan turned away.

Just like that.

Like I was nothing.

Like I hadn’t just upended my entire existence for him.

Like I didn’t matter.

The bond twisted violently, screaming in protest at being left open, unfulfilled.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my fingers trembling beneath the table.

He was going to reject me.

He was going to destroy me.

But my father had just saved me.

Because if Ronan had gone through with it right then and there, in front of all these people—

I might not have survived it.

My father knew that.

And so, despite the anger burning beneath my skin, despite the overwhelming humiliation curling around my spine, I stayed silent.

I said nothing.

Because he was right.

I wasn’t ready for this.

Not yet.

The meeting slowly resumed, the heavy tension in the room shifting back to the war discussion.

I barely heard any of it.

I barely processed the words, the arguments, the strategic plans.

I just sat there, numb, trying to breathe, trying to think, trying to understand how everything had gone so wrong.

And then—

Ronan spoke.

His voice was smooth, controlled, as if nothing had just happened.

“As of now, every pack present will be mandated to leave one of their own behind,” he said evenly.

The room stirred with unease.

“This is non-negotiable,” he continued, his tone firm. “Until we uncover the truth behind the rebellion, every pack will leave behind a representative to be trained and observed.”

A pause.

“Starting immediately.”

A heavy silence followed.

I swallowed hard, something cold settling in my stomach.

Something wrong.

Because I already knew.

I already knew what was coming next.

And when Ronan’s gaze flickered to mine—just for a fraction of a second, just long enough to send a silent message—

I knew I was right.

But I hoped I wasn’t

Sage’s POV

Murmurs.

At first, they were hushed—scattered like dry leaves in the wind, whispered behind cupped hands and wary glances.

Then they grew louder.

Bolder.

“But why should we leave anyone behind?” an Alpha from the northern pack demanded, his tone sharp with protest. “We came here to discuss a war, not to be treated like prisoners!”

A ripple of agreement moved through the room.

“Yes,” another spoke up, “our packs aren’t the ones plotting against the crown.”

“I will not leave my people at the mercy of another pack,” someone else grumbled.

The noise built—layer upon layer of indignation, a storm of raised voices threatening to spill over.

And through it all, Ronan sat still.

Watching.

Waiting.

Then—

a sharp crack echoed through the hall as his hand slammed onto the table. The heavy wood groaned beneath the force.

Silence fell instantly.

“I do not recall asking for your approval.”

His voice was calm. Too calm.

The kind of calm that made your pulse stutter—because beneath it, there was something dangerous. Something cold and merciless.

Ronan’s golden eyes swept the room, steady and lethal.

“You seem to have forgotten that you are not here as guests,” he said, each word measured, deliberate. “You are here because there is a threat—a traitor among us.”

His gaze darkened. “And I do not trust a single one of you.”

The weight of those words pressed down like a suffocating fog.

A few Alphas clenched their jaws. Others lowered their eyes. No one dared speak.

Ronan leaned back slightly, his posture deceptively relaxed. “Those left behind will be treated well and trained should war break out. That is not a request—it is an order. You may either accept it… or leave your packs exposed.”

A tense pause followed.

Then—

a reluctant murmur of agreement rippled across the hall. Some exchanged wary glances. Others nodded stiffly. A few still looked like they wanted to argue—but even they knew better.

Ronan had spoken.

And no one defied the Alpha King.

One by one, the decisions began. Most Alphas had brought either their Betas or Lunas, and so the choice of who to leave behind was obvious.

My father had brought two of us—his Beta, and me.

I could already see it in his eyes—the decision forming, logical and safe.

He would leave his Beta.

And I would be going home.

Relief swelled in my chest as he opened his mouth to speak—

“She stays.”

Ronan’s voice sliced through the air like a blade.

A chill tore through me.

For a second, I thought I’d misheard him.

But my father’s entire body went rigid beside me.

I hadn’t.

Every gaze in the room turned toward me.

I swallowed, my throat dry. “What?”

My father’s voice was calm, too calm. “Your Majesty?”

Ronan met his gaze, unflinching. “She stays.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Whispers rose around us, questions in every pair of eyes.

Why her?

My father’s hands clenched at his sides, his jaw tight. “Your Majesty,” he said, careful, controlled, “I understand the need to keep a representative from each pack. But surely my Beta—he is experienced, trained—”

“I don’t need experience,” Ronan cut in, his tone smooth as glass. “I need obedience.”

His gaze shifted to me, sharp and heavy as a touch.

My stomach twisted.

He wasn’t doing this for strategy. He was punishing me—for speaking out, for defying him, for being his mate when he clearly didn’t want one.

“My Beta will remain,” my father said again, firmer this time.

Ronan didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He simply watched my father in silence for a moment that dragged too long, too dangerous.

Then he said, simply, “No.”

The air in the hall turned thick and electric.

I knew that look on my father’s face. The quiet fury. The unwillingness to yield.

But I also knew Ronan.

And I knew that if this continued, if my father pushed him any further—he’d lose.

Ronan wasn’t going to let me go.

Not now.

Not ever.

A sharp ache spread through my chest, heavy and suffocating.

I didn’t want to stay.

Not after everything he’d said.

Not after the way he’d humiliated me.

Not after the way he’d looked at me—like I was nothing.

But I had no choice.

I turned to my father. He was still staring at Ronan, his expression stone, but his eyes burned with fury.

I forced a smile—weak, trembling, but a smile nonetheless.

“It’s okay, Father,” I said softly.

He looked at me sharply, disbelief flickering across his face.

But I kept smiling.

I needed him to believe it.

To let go.

To leave.

He’d already lost my mother.

Now, he was losing me too.

But I wouldn’t let him see my fear.

I wouldn’t let him carry that pain.

“I’ll be fine,” I lied.

He stared at me for a long, agonizing moment.

Then, finally, he nodded—once.

The murmurs rose again, but I barely heard them.

Ronan turned away, already done with the discussion.

And just like that—

I was trapped.

A prisoner in his castle.