Talia's POV

Do you want me to stop?" His voice was low, tense, but there was something in the way he looked at me that made my stomach flip.

I hesitated. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. "Stop... what?" I asked, though part of me already knew.

"This," he said, leaning just a fraction closer. His eyes darkened, and the air between us felt thick, almost suffocating. "This... whatever this is, Talia. Do you want me to stop?"

I swallowed hard. The words I wanted to say tangled in my throat. My pride shouted yes, I shouldn't let him see me like this, but another part of me whispered no. That part was loud and urgent. No. Don't stop.

"I... I don't know," I admitted finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

He studied me for a long moment, as if trying to read every hidden thought. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Good."

I blinked. "Good?"

"Yes," he said simply, his gaze intense.

"Because I'm not stopping. Not unless you tell me to. Not unless it's what you want."

I shook my head, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "I-don't... I..." My words fell apart. I hated how flustered I felt, hated that my heart was hammering like I'd run a mile, hated that I wanted to melt under his stare.

He smiled then, a slow, almost cruel smile. "You don't have to say anything," he murmured. "Just... feel."

And suddenly, Ramon sprang up quickly, leaving me on the floor.

I was still trembling when Ramon stepped back, the air between us thick with the fire of what had just happened. My chest was pounding, my lips tingling, my mind spinning. For a moment, I thought I could catch my breath. Maybe even forgive the heat that had built between us.

But then he pulled his eyes away, looking past me as if I wasn't there.

"Get dressed," he said quietly.

I froze.

"Excuse me?"

He didn't answer me. His jaw was tight, his body tense, and I realized, it wasn't anger or disappointment I was seeing. It was... focus. Sharp, controlled, dangerous focus.

"Get dressed, Now," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

My hands shook as I smoothed down my clothes, my brain struggling to catch up.

"Why... why the sudden order?" I asked, though I already knew better than to expect a straight answer.

He moved closer, his presence pressing down on me. "Because it's not safe."

I laughed bitterly, though it sounded more like a sob. "Not safe? Nothing about this place has been safe since the moment I arrived, and now suddenly, now suddenly, I have to get dressed because... what? You feel nervous?"

Ramon didn't answer. He simply gestured toward the door. "Move."

I bit my lips, my pride flaring. "Move? That's all you can say? You drag me into your world, kiss me like I matter, and now you tell me to move?"

His eyes, dark and stormy, finally met mine. "I said move because danger is here. And I won't explain further."

I stared at him, my chest tight. For a second, the room seemed to shrink. My mind raced. Danger? What kind of danger? And why now, after... after that?.

Before I could speak again, the hairs on the back of my neck rose. I heard it first, the faint snap of a branch outside my window. Then, the soft rustle of leaves. My stomach dropped.

"Someone's there," I whispered.

Ramon's head snapped toward the sound. He didn't speak. He moved like a shadow, swift and silent. I followed, trying to steady my breathing.

He scanned the tree line, his stance rigid. Every muscle in his body tensed. "They're close," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

I swallowed hard, my pulse spiking. "Who... who?"

"Rogues," he said simply, without turning to face me. "I can smell them."

My throat went dry. "Here?" I asked, disbelief lacing my voice.

"Yes," he replied. "They're inside the borders. And they know you're here."

A chill ran down my spine. "They... know me?"

Ramon's jaw clenched. "They know who matters to me. And that's you."

"So.. so am I a bait to get to you?"

"No," he said sharply, spinning to face me.

"You're not bait. You're my responsibility. And I will not let anyone take you."

I laughed bitterly, though it was shaky and hollow. "Responsibility? That's what I am to you? A responsibility?"

His eyes darkened. "You're more than that. But right now, I can only keep you alive."

I stared at him, speechless for a moment. Alive... that's supposed to be comforting?

He reached for me, just slightly, and I flinched. "Don't touch me," I whispered.

He froze. His hand hovered in the air, just inches from me. "I won't," he said softly, his voice barely more than a breath. "But you need to understand... if I hesitate, if I falter, I can't protect you. Not from this."

I shivered, though I wasn't sure if it was fear or frustration or something else entirely. "Why does everything in this place feel like it's trying to break me?"

"Rogues," he said, tone low and sharp. "They want you alive. They want leverage. They want me to fail."

I stared at him, trying to process. "So... you kissed me because you wanted me safe, not because..." My voice trailed off.

"Not just that," he said quickly. "Because I wanted you safe and because... because I care. That doesn't mean I'm blind to the threat. And it doesn't mean I can ignore it."

My chest ached. "I hate you," I whispered, though it wasn't pure hatred.

"Suit yourself," he said sharply.

"You stay close," he said, glancing at the woods again. "You move with me. You don't leave my sight. And you learn to survive."

I bit my lip. "And if I refuse?"

He didn't answer immediately. His eyes softened, but the tension never left his body. "You won't. You can't. Because if you do... they'll get you before I do."

Ramon's gaze didn't waver. "Come on," he said finally. "We move. Now."

I nodded slowly, still trembling. My pride and anger warring with the raw, undeniable fear in my chest. I followed through the forest, my shoes in my hands.

Ramon moved like a predator, alert, scanning every corner, every shadow. He didn't speak unless necessary, but I could feel his presence like a shield around me.

Every step he took, every motion, spoke of skill and danger I had only seen glimpses of before.

Ramon stopped in front of me. "Stay behind me," he ordered.

I nodded, gripping the strap of my shoes tightly. My heart hammered in my chest, my mind racing a thousand miles a minute.

Suddenly, a branch snapped. A gust of wind carried an unfamiliar scent to us. I froze.

Ramon's head snapped toward the sound, nostrils flaring. "They're close," he muttered.

I swallowed hard. "And if they come?"

"They won't get through me," he said, jaw tight, eyes blazing. "Not today."

The words should have calmed me, but all I felt was a twisting in my chest. Fear mixed with anger, frustration, and a confusing pull toward him I couldn't name.

I blinked, tears threatening to spill. "And you think I can trust you?"

"I think you'll have to," he said simply. "Because the only way you survive what's coming... is if you do."

My stomach twisted. I wanted to argue, to run, to push him away. But I couldn't. Not fully. My body, my instincts, even the small, stubborn part of my mind that wanted freedom, all screamed that I needed him.

I hated that.

We got back to the house.

Ramon turned, signaling to the guards to open the gate.

"Move," he said.

We stepped inside. The night was alive with sounds, the rustle of the wind, the distant call of an owl. Every sense was heightened. Every shadow could hide danger.

I stayed close, just as he had instructed. My hands were shaking, my chest tight, but I kept moving. Every step, every glance at him, reminded me that I was no longer just Talia. I was his mate. His responsibility. His weakness. And perhaps... his strength.

We stopped in front of my room, the shadows pressing around us. I wanted to ask him questions, to demand answers, to yell at him for taking control of my life.

But I couldn't.

Because even though I wanted to hate him, even though I wanted to run, part of me knew this:

I wasn't safe without him.

And the rogues were already inside the borders.

Talia's POV

I couldn't sleep.

No matter how hard I tried, my eyes refused to stay shut. Every time I closed them, my mind replayed everything that had happened; Elder Jared's warning, the talk of rogues, the danger, the way Ramon looked at me like I was something precious and fragile at the same time.

I had never been this scared in my life.

Everything about my life was happening too fast. One moment I was just trying to survive, the next I was trapped in a strange pack, surrounded by wolves, danger, secrets, and a man who had the nerve, the absolute audacity, to tell me I was his fated mate.

Fated mate. Fuck him.

The words made me want to laugh and scream at the same time.

Is this how my life is supposed to be now?

Hiding because of his problems? Living in fear because of enemies I didn't even know existed?

And the worst part?

I didn't even know who to believe.

Ramon said one thing. Selene said another. But what reason did Selene have to lie to me? What did she gain from turning me against him?

Nothing.

That thought settled heavily in my chest.

I swung my legs off the bed and stood up quietly.

I'm leaving.

I didn't care about any stupid bonds. I didn't believe in it anyway. Love didn't trap people like this. Fate didn't feel like fear and cages.

I pulled on a loose shirt and a pair of trousers, something easy to move in. I didn't bother with putting on my shoes. I held them in my hands instead.

The moon was high in the sky, bright enough to light my way.

Slowly, carefully, I opened the door to my room.

No guards.

Good.

I stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind me without a sound. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure someone would hear it. I moved on my toes, every step careful, every breath controlled.

I didn't want to wake anyone.

Especially not him.

The hallway felt longer than usual, like it was stretching just to test my courage.

When I finally reached the large door that led outside, relief flooded me.

Freedom was right there.

I reached for the handle.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Fuck.

My heart slammed violently against my ribs.

I turned slowly.

Ramon stood a few steps away from me, leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his face calm, but his eyes were sharp, dark, and angry.

Why was my heart beating like this?

It always betrayed me whenever he was close.

He pushed himself off the wall and started walking toward me, slow and deliberate.

"Talia," he said, his voice low. "Where the fuck are you going?"

Don't panic, I told myself.

Stand your ground.

Demand your freedom.

"I demand that you release me right now," I said, forcing the words out even though my throat felt tight.

For a second, he just stared at me.

Then he laughed.

He actually laughed.

Not a soft laugh. Not an amused one. A full, mocking laugh, like I had just told the funniest joke he'd ever heard.

My hands clenched around my shoes.

"What's funny?" I asked sharply.

His laughter died instantly.

His face went cold.

"Oh," he said flatly. "I thought this was some kind of joke."

"I'm damn serious," I snapped. "I'm not staying here."

He stepped closer. "Is it that you don't listen," he asked slowly, "or are you just outright stubborn?"

I lifted my chin. "I listen just fine. I just don't agree with you."

"What part of nowhere is safe don't you understand?" he shot back.

"I didn't ask for this!" I shouted, my voice echoing softly in the hall. "I didn't ask for your enemies or your bond or whatever madness this is!"

His jaw tightened. "And you think walking out alone into the night is smart?"

"I'd rather take my chances than live like a prisoner!"

That did it.

His eyes darkened, something dangerous flickering in them.

"From now on," he said, his voice firm and final, "you stay in my room."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"So I can always see you," he continued. "And know where you are."

"No," I said immediately. "Absolutely not."

I turned toward the door again.

I didn't even see him move.

One second I was reaching for the handle, the next I was lifted clean off the ground.

"Ramon!" I yelled.

He threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I shouted, pounding my fists against his back. "Put me down!"

"You're not leaving," he said calmly, already walking away from the door.

"I am not a child!"

"Then stop acting like one."

That made me furious.

"I hate you!" I yelled. "You don't own me!"

"You're right," he said. "I don't."

"Then let me go!"

"I can't," he replied.

The simple honesty in his voice stunned me.

He walked up the stairs, ignoring my protests, my struggles, my anger. No matter how much I kicked or hit him, he didn't even flinch.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, my voice breaking despite myself.

He stopped walking.

For a moment, everything was quiet.

Then he said softly, "Because if anything happens to you, I won't survive it."

"That's a fucking lie," I said.

He carried me into his room and set me on my feet, but his hands stayed on my arms, steady and firm.

"This isn't about control," he said. "It's about survival."

"I don't trust you," I whispered.

"Just let me go. Forget that I exist ."

His expression softened, just a little.

"Whether you believe it or not," he said, "you're tied to me. And the world out there will use you to hurt me."

"You're not staying in this room with me," I said.

He turned slightly, his voice flat. "You don't tell me what to do."

He turned away, giving me space, but I could still feel his presence, solid, watchful.

I climbed onto the bed, my emotions tangled and heavy.

I still wanted to run.

But for the first time since I arrived here, I wondered if running was really the safest choice.

And that thought scared me more than anything else.

Talia's POV

"You didn't treat that wound?" I asked.

The words slipped out before I could stop myself.

Ramon didn't answer. He didn't even look at me. He just turned his back and began removing his shirt like the question didn't matter.

That was when I saw it.

That same wound.

The one at his side.

The one that started all of this. The blood. The chase. The rogues. Me.

My chest tightened.

"This wound doesn't look treated," I said again, quieter this time.

He shrugged off the shirt and tossed it aside. "Don't worry about me. Just go to sleep."

Sleep?

I laughed softly, without humor. "Do I look like I can sleep?"

He didn't respond.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to me, shoulders tense. I stared at the wound, my heart beating faster. It was healing, but not the way it should have.

Not the way a wound should heal if it had been properly treated.

I moved before he could stop me.

"Let me see," I said.

"It's fine," he replied immediately. "I'm fine."

"I didn't say you weren't," I said, stepping closer. "Just... let me."

He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at me. Our eyes met.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Something passed between us. I didn't know what it was. A challenge. A question. Maybe trust.

Slowly, he sighed.

Then he let the shirt fall completely from his hand.

I swallowed.

The wound was ugly. Not terrifying, but deep enough that it should have closed more by now. Angry red lines crossed his skin, faint but stubborn.

"Where's your first aid kit?" I asked.

"Over there," he said, nodding toward the wardrobe.

I walked to it, my legs feeling strangely heavy. I found the kit easily and brought it back, kneeling in front of him without thinking.

As I cleaned the wound, my heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I focused on my hands, on the careful movements, on not letting my fingers shake.

I prayed silently that he wouldn't comment on how nervous I was.

"You should have treated this," I murmured.

"I didn't have time," he replied.

"That's not an excuse."

A corner of his mouth twitched. "So you're really worried about me,eh?"

"I'm not," I said. "I just... care."

The word slipped out before I could stop it.

My hands paused.

I waited for him to say something. Anything.

Instead, I felt it.

His fingers.

Warm. Gentle.

They touched my face, brushing my cheek with the back of his knuckles. My breath caught. I froze, afraid that if I moved, the moment would break.

I didn't look up.

I couldn't.

I finished cleaning the wound, wrapped it carefully, and sat back on my heels. But I didn't move away. His hands were still on my face, thumbs resting just below my cheekbones.

"Thank you," he said softly.

The sound of his voice like that, low, sincere, sent a strange ache through my chest.

"Look at me, Talia," he said.

I hesitated.

Then, slowly, he lifted my chin with his fingers.

Our eyes met.

And I felt it.

Not just attraction. Not just desire.

Something deeper.

Like a pull. Like a spark. Like being seen and pulled closer at the same time.

I didn't even have a name for it.

He leaned in, giving me time to pull away.

I didn't.

His lips touched mine slowly. No rush. No hunger. Just warmth. Just presence.

He kissed me like the world outside didn't exist. Like there were no rogues, no threats, no fear. Just this moment.

My hands moved on their own, gripping his shoulders, feeling the strength there. His hand slid to my waist, steadying me.

Then he lifted me effortlessly and sat me on his lap.

I gasped softly, breaking the kiss, my forehead resting against his.

"We shouldn't," I whispered.

"I know," he replied.

Neither of us moved.

The room felt quiet in a way that wasn't empty. His arms around me were firm but gentle, like he was holding something precious instead of dangerous.

My heart was still racing.

But for the first time since I came here...

I wasn't afraid.

His lips found mine again, this time,no rush, just taking it in.

Then his hands began to unbutton my shirt, and unhook my brassiere.

I couldn't resist, didn't want to resist.

His mouth wrapped around my nipples, circling it, teasing, tantalizing.

I arched myself closer to him,willing our bodies to join.

Then his hands began going down, sliding into my pants, touching me.

I gasped.

His name on my lips.

"Ramon, don't stop," I said.

"Didn't plan on that," he replied.

Very slowly, without breaking the kiss, he laid me on the bed and began kissing me again, my neck, my shoulders, down to my breast,his hands circling one while his lips closing in on the other nipple.

Gently, he peeled off my shirt and removed my trousers, leaving me vulnerable.

I wrapped my hands over my chest.

He didn't say anything but began to take off his shirt.

His shoulders were broad, very sculpted.

Very unconsciously, I licked my lips.

"Like what you see, eh?" He asked.

He began to unbuckle his trousers and then he stopped and asked me; "Want to help me?"

And just then, a knock came in.