Chapter 5 – The Alpha's Game
The moment Ronan left her standing in the dark, Selene wanted to scream.
Not from fear.
Not even from anger.
But from frustration so deep it burned through her veins like wildfire.
Every time she thought she had an edge, Ronan was there, cutting her down like a hunter playing with its prey. She had expected rage from him, expected threats or even punishment for trying to escape.
Instead, he had walked away.
Like he knew she would try again.
Like he was waiting for her to figure out there was no winning against him.
Selene clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms as she forced herself to turn back toward the cabin. She wasn't giving up. She couldn't. But she needed a new plan.
Something Ronan wouldn't see coming.
She stepped inside, shutting the door quietly behind her. The cabin was simple—too simple. It wasn't what she had expected from a rogue Alpha. No gold. No unnecessary luxury. Just the essentials: a sturdy bed, a chair, a fireplace that flickered with dying embers.
It was so different from what she was used to.
And yet, she felt trapped in here.
Selene sat on the bed, staring at the fire, watching the way the last of the flames licked hungrily at the logs before retreating into glowing embers.
It reminded her of Ronan.
He burned.
And she had a sinking feeling she was going to get scorched.
She lay down, closing her eyes. She needed rest if she was going to fight him tomorrow.
But her dreams were filled with golden eyes and a whisper she couldn't escape.
Run all you want, little wolf. I will always catch you.
—
Morning came too soon.
Selene sat up with a groan, stretching sore muscles. She hadn't realized how exhausted she was until sleep took her, and now, in the quiet morning light, she felt strangely calm.
But that calm shattered the moment she opened the door.
Ronan was waiting for her.
She nearly stumbled back, startled. He was leaning against the porch railing, arms crossed, watching her with an expression that sent a shiver down her spine.
Not anger.
Not amusement.
Something worse.
Curiosity.
"You didn't try to run last night," he said casually.
Selene straightened her shoulders. "You were expecting me to?"
Ronan smirked. "Of course."
Her pulse kicked up a notch. "You're enjoying this," she accused.
His eyes darkened. "I enjoy a good challenge."
Selene hated the way her body reacted to his voice. She hated the way he made everything feel like a game—one where he already knew the ending.
"Then I'll make sure you lose," she shot back.
To her frustration, Ronan only chuckled.
"You're assuming I play by the rules."
Selene narrowed her eyes. "Then tell me, Alpha, what exactly is your game?"
Ronan pushed off the railing, closing the distance between them in two slow, measured steps. "Survival."
Selene swallowed.
"You think I'm keeping you here because of some mate bond," he continued, voice low. "But you don't understand what you are to me, Selene. Not yet."
Her stomach twisted. "I don't care what I am to you."
Ronan tilted his head, considering her. "Liar."
Selene forced herself to meet his gaze, even as her wolf stirred beneath her skin, responding to the pull she hated.
"I'm not like your wolves," she whispered.
Ronan's jaw tensed. "No. You're not."
And there was something about the way he said it—something almost… regretful.
It sent ice through her veins.
Before she could press him further, a sharp whistle cut through the air.
Ronan's attention snapped toward the training field, where a group of rogues were gathered. A few of them glanced toward him, waiting.
He exhaled through his nose. "Come."
Selene stiffened. "I'm not a dog you can summon."
His gaze flicked back to her, smoldering. "No, but you are mine."
Selene's breath hitched.
His.
It wasn't the first time he had said it, but this time…
This time it felt like a vow.
"Prove it," she whispered before she could stop herself.
Ronan stilled.
Then, a slow, dangerous smirk curved his lips.
"Gladly."
—
The training grounds were alive with movement.
Wolves sparred, claws slashing, bodies colliding with brute force. Others fought in human form, fists flying, testing their endurance. It was nothing like the polished training sessions of her old pack. This was raw. Unforgiving.
And Ronan fit into it like a blade into its sheath.
Selene watched as he stepped into the ring, rolling his shoulders, his muscles flexing under the morning sun.
"Since you're so eager to fight me, little wolf," he called, "I'll give you a chance."
Selene's stomach tightened.
He wasn't serious.
But the way the rogues gathered around them, grinning, confirmed it.
He was serious.
"You want me to fight you?" she asked, folding her arms.
Ronan's smirk widened. "Unless you're afraid?"
Selene bared her teeth. "I don't fear you, Ronan."
"Then prove it."
Damn him.
Selene inhaled sharply. If he wanted a fight, fine.
She would make him regret it.
She stepped into the ring, heart pounding as the tension thickened between them.
"Rules?" she asked.
Ronan chuckled. "None."
Of course.
Before he could react, Selene lunged.
She moved fast, aiming low, trying to sweep his legs out from under him. But Ronan was faster.
He sidestepped smoothly, grabbing her wrist before she could recover. In a blink, he had twisted her arm behind her back, pressing close enough for his breath to brush her ear.
"Predictable," he murmured.
Selene growled, twisting sharply. She managed to free herself, spinning to face him, but he was already coming at her again.
He didn't strike hard.
He toyed with her.
And it infuriated her.
Selene snarled, attacking again—faster, sharper. She landed a kick against his ribs, satisfaction flaring at the grunt he let out.
But it didn't slow him down.
Ronan caught her next strike, yanking her forward, and suddenly, she was pinned beneath him, her back hitting the dirt hard.
He hovered over her, hands braced on either side of her head.
And he was smiling.
Selene's heart pounded.
She was breathing hard.
So was he.
"Yield," Ronan murmured.
Selene bared her teeth. "Go to hell."
His eyes darkened.
"Already there, little wolf."
Her pulse stuttered.
She should have been furious.
She was furious.
And yet, as Ronan loomed over her, the mate bond hummed between them, thick and intoxicating, a cruel reminder that fate had bound them together.
Selene swallowed hard.
She had lost this fight.
But she refused to lose the war.
"Enjoy this moment, Ronan," she whispered. "Because next time? I won't hold back."
Ronan stared at her for a long, unreadable moment. Then, slowly, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear.
"Neither will I."
And as he pulled away, offering her his hand, Selene realized with bone-deep certainty—
She wasn't just fighting Ronan.
She was fighting herself.
—