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.

Sage’s POV

The meeting ended, but the tension in the hall still hung heavy, like smoke that refused to clear. Those forced to leave someone behind lingered, murmuring quiet reassurances, making promises to reunite.

I stood beside my father as he spoke in hushed tones with our Beta. His shoulders were rigid, his jaw tight. He had tried to argue with Ronan—but the moment he did, he realized how close he was to crossing a dangerous line.

Ronan was the Alpha King. His word was law.

Still, my father hesitated before turning to me. His golden eyes, usually unreadable, now held a weight that made my chest tighten.

“Sage,” he said quietly. “I don’t like this, but it is what it is. You are my daughter, and no matter what happens, remember that.”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “I know.”

“You are not weak.” His hands gripped my shoulders, firm, grounding. “I raised you to be strong, Sage. No matter what happens here, you stand tall. Even if it’s the Alpha King himself standing in your way—do not cower.”

A lump rose in my throat. I forced it down. I wasn’t going to cry.

I straightened. “I won’t.”

For a heartbeat, his expression softened. Then he released me, turned, and walked away without another word.

I watched as he and the other Alphas climbed into their cars and drove off—one by one—leaving behind a scattering of warriors, Betas… and me.

Just like that, I was alone.

An hour ago, I’d arrived as the Alpha’s daughter.

Now, I was nothing more than a prisoner.

---

After the Alphas departed, those of us remaining were gathered and divided into groups. I barely heard the instructions. My mind was still replaying my father’s words—sharp and steady, echoing like an oath.

I would not cower.

I would not break.

Even if Ronan tried to make me.

The hallway they led me through was dimly lit, long and silent except for the echo of boots against stone. The walls were rough, the air cool and faintly metallic, as if the castle itself breathed secrets.

The warrior escorting me stopped before a large wooden door. “This is your room,” he said flatly.

I stepped inside.

The room was simple—bare, almost cold.

A large bed sat at the center, draped in thick blankets. A wooden dresser stood against the far wall beside a modest wardrobe. A desk and chair occupied one corner. No decorations. No warmth. No trace of luxury.

Just a place to sleep.

A place to wait.

A place for someone who had no choice but to stay.

Because that’s what I was now—a pawn in whatever game Ronan was playing.

He hadn’t spoken to me since the meeting.

I hadn’t seen him.

And yet, the awareness of him clung to me like a shadow.

I should’ve been relieved. His presence alone was suffocating. But as I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the empty space around me, unease coiled low in my stomach.

The man I’d dreamed of for years—the one I’d thought was my fate—had turned into a stranger. A cruel, unrecognizable version of the one I used to feel in my dreams.

And now I was trapped in his castle.

---

Evening fell slowly.

When a knock sounded at my door, I stiffened.

Two guards entered, carrying my luggage. They set it down wordlessly and left just as quickly, their silence heavier than any insult.

I barely glanced at the bags.

Tomorrow, training would begin.

Tomorrow, I’d have to fight.

And tomorrow, I’d have to face him.

I crawled under the blankets, exhaustion weighing down every limb. The bed was soft, but it felt foreign—like sleeping in a cage lined with silk.

Sleep came quickly, dragging me under before I could think too much.

And for the first time in years—

Ronan was not in my dreams.

Sage’s POV

A loud, sharp knock pounded against my door, jolting me awake.

I shot up, mind still tangled in the haze of sleep, blinking against the dim morning light.

Another knock—no, a pounding.

“Get up. Training starts in fifteen minutes,” a gruff voice called from outside.

Training.

Right.

I scrambled out of bed, my heart still heavy from the events of yesterday. My body ached from tension, but I ignored it, dragging myself toward my bags.

Fifteen minutes? That wasn’t nearly enough time.

I brushed my hair, threw on black pants, a tank top, and boots—barely tugging the last lace tight when the door swung open. A warrior stood there, his face carved from stone.

“Move.”

I bit down on the urge to snarl at him and stepped into the hall, falling into line with the other trainees being herded through the castle.

The corridors were silent—the wrong kind of silence. Not peaceful, but tense. You could taste unease in the air, sharp and metallic. Wolves moved quietly, some bleary-eyed, some alert. The faint scent of sweat and steel drifted through the halls.

But I barely noticed any of it.

I was still trying to shake the hollow feeling in my chest.

For the first time in my life… I hadn’t dreamt of him.

---

When we stepped outside, the air changed.

The training grounds were massive—built for war.

A sprawling field stretched before me, lined with wooden dummies, sparring rings, and brutal obstacle courses. Target posts stood like sentinels for ranged attacks, and racks of weapons gleamed under the rising sun—knives, swords, axes, bows.

The dirt beneath my boots was hard-packed, scarred from years of battles. This wasn’t a place for discipline or technique. This was where soldiers were forged.

And now, I was expected to become one of them.

A pawn in Ronan’s army.

A growl built in my throat, but I swallowed it down.

I wasn’t weak.

And I wouldn’t let Ronan see me break.

I glanced around. The group was a mix of warriors and Betas—men and women of all sizes and ranks. Some were seasoned, others young. A few faces were familiar—heirs to well-known packs, skilled fighters.

And then there were the stares.

The whispers.

I didn’t have to guess what they were saying.

They’d seen what happened yesterday.

They knew who I was—the Alpha’s daughter foolish enough to claim the King as her mate. The same one he’d humiliated before every leader in the realm.

My jaw tightened, but I kept my face blank.

Let them whisper.

I wasn’t here to make friends.

---

Then—silence.

A wave of it spread across the grounds like a ripple of instinct.

Ronan had arrived.

His presence was… undeniable.

He walked with the confidence of a predator, every step heavy with authority. Wolves stiffened automatically—some standing taller, others lowering their eyes.

He wasn’t dressed like a king today. He wore black combat gear, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing muscular forearms lined with faint scars.

A warrior.

A leader.

A killer.

His golden eyes swept over the crowd, cold and assessing. Then they landed on me.

The tension was instant.

A faint, dangerous smirk curved his mouth as he strode forward, stopping a few steps away.

“Look at all of you,” Ronan drawled, voice deep and commanding. “Abandoned by your packs. Left behind to fend for yourselves.”

His gaze lingered on mine as he added, almost lazily, “Some of you… unwanted.”

My stomach knotted.

He was testing me.

Waiting for me to look away. To bow.

I lifted my chin instead, meeting his stare head-on.

I wouldn’t flinch.

I wouldn’t bow.

His smirk didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened—something like dark amusement flickering in his eyes before he turned away.

“You’re here because I allow it,” he said to the group. “And you will train because I demand it. If you can’t keep up, you won’t last.” His tone sharpened. “Make no mistake—this isn’t a favor. You are here because I don’t trust any of you.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, low and uneasy.

“Now,” Ronan continued, voice like steel, “show me which of you deserve to stay.”

And with that, the drills began.

---

It started simple—warm-ups, endurance, basic sparring forms. Some struggled, others kept pace.

I excelled.

I’d been training since I could walk. My father had raised me to lead, to fight, to survive. I knew how to hold my ground.

Push-ups, sprints, stance drills—I didn’t falter once. A few warriors gave me grudging looks of respect. The Alpha’s daughter wasn’t so fragile after all.

Ronan, however, seemed unimpressed.

He stood at a distance, arms crossed, silent, his gaze flicking over each of us like a hawk’s.

And when his eyes found me, I felt it. That weight. That silent pressure.

But I didn’t let it break me.

They paired us off for sparring. My opponent was a broad, smug male from another pack. He looked at me and grinned like he’d already won.

His mistake.

The instant the match started, I dropped him.

I used speed instead of brute strength, dodging his heavy swings before twisting his arm and slamming him into the dirt.

The thud echoed.

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

Ronan said nothing.

I glanced at him anyway. Still nothing. No approval. No irritation. Just the same cold indifference.

It shouldn’t have stung. But it did.

The drills continued.

The sun climbed higher, sweat dripped down my back, and still, I kept pushing. Keep fighting.

And then—

A voice.

Loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Why even bother try to impress him? The King doesn’t want a mate, especially a little girl who embarrassed herself in front of everyone."

Silence.

My entire body tensed.

I turned slowly, my heartbeat steady, dangerous.

A warrior stood a few feet away, smirking. His arms were crossed, and his gaze was full of mockery.

He had been at the meeting.

He had heard everything.

The other trainees stiffened, watching, waiting.

I stepped forward, tilting my head slightly. My voice was smooth, quiet—but it cut through the air like a knife.

"Say that again."

The smirk faltered.

I took another step. "Go on. Repeat yourself."

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face.

My wolf itched beneath my skin, waiting.

Lucian was watching.

Everyone was watching.

And I had never been one to back down from a fight.

Not now.

Not ever.