Darren.

"Oh my," I murmured under my breath, lips curling as her head lifted. "Look who we have here."

She froze the instant our eyes met. There was a flicker there, fear, recognition, maybe defiance but it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. I took my time closing the distance between us, boots echoing softly against the stone as I stopped just close enough for her to feel it.

Close enough to unsettle her.

A scoff slipped out of me as my gaze dropped to the tag fastened to her clothing. The metal was dull, scratched from use, but the engraving was clear.

Rogue 456.

I tilted my head, reading it aloud deliberately, letting the words hang between us. "Rogue four-five-six."

At the sound of my voice, I felt it, the shift in the air. The officials stationed at the gate straightened, their quiet watchfulness sharpening into open curiosity. Their eyes followed the exchange, darting between her stiff posture and my relaxed one, clearly wondering what I saw that had made me stop.

"Rogue 456," I said again, this time more sharply. "Lead the way."

She lowered her head immediately, the movement rushed, almost clumsy, as though she feared even a heartbeat of hesitation would cost her. Maria, because that was the name on the registry—hurried to gather my belongings. Her hands shook as she lifted them, arms straining under the weight, yet she didn’t complain. She carried everything up the stairs, step after step, her breathing uneven but controlled, never once looking back.

I followed.

When we reached the assigned room, she paused at the threshold, placing my belongings neatly inside. I could tell she expected that to be the end of it—that I would step in, dismiss her, let the door close between us.

I didn’t.

I stopped just short of the doorway, then reached out and caught her. My hand closed firmly around her waist, fingers biting into fabric and flesh alike as I pulled her back against me. She gasped softly, startled, her body going rigid in my hold.

"No," I said quietly, dragging her inside with me. "You’re not leaving."

The door shut behind us with a muted thud.

I didn’t know why the urge was so strong—why I needed her there, why the thought of her walking away irritated something deep in my chest. Her presence filled the room in a way I hadn’t anticipated, her warmth a stark contrast to the cold stone walls. I held her there, unmoving, my grip unyielding, my thoughts suddenly restless.

And then it hit me.

The letter.

The one I had received days ago. The sealed parchment, the carefully chosen words, the promise of an end to bloodshed wrapped in diplomacy and sacrifice. A peace treaty, they had called it. An offering meant to balance years of violence.

My grip loosened slightly as realization crept in, slow and unwelcome.

Was she... the treaty?

Was Rogue 456 the price they had decided to pay for peace?

The quadruplet Alphas and I had never stood on the same side—not since our school days. From the very beginning, there had always been an invisible line between us, one drawn by pride, competition, and stubborn egos that refused to bend. Whether it was academics, combat training, or the way girls’ eyes followed us across the courtyard, we were always measuring ourselves against each other.

They were always first.

And I was always second.

No matter how hard I pushed, how many nights I stayed awake sharpening my skills or memorizing strategy, the result never changed. They stood at the top together, untouchable in their unity, while I followed just a step behind—close enough to feel their shadow, far enough to resent it. Rivalry hardened into habit, and habit into a grudge that time never softened.

So when the letter arrived—sealed, formal, deliberate—I had laughed.

Peace? From them?

They claimed it was time to put the past aside, that we were no longer reckless youths competing for glory. We were Alphas now. Leaders. Our packs depended on stability, on growth, on alliances instead of old wounds. The words were reasonable. Necessary, even.

And yet, I hadn’t trusted it.

Around the same time, I had banished Maria.

I had ordered a secret search party, thorough and silent, scouring every territory I could justify without raising suspicion. She was nowhere to be found. No trail. No scent. Nothing. It gnawed at me in ways I refused to name—an unease that settled into my bones and refused to leave.

Now I understood why.

Moon Bridge territory.

That was where she had been all along.

The realization hit hard, sharp with irony and regret. I had been the one to banish her—cold, unquestioning, blind. I hadn’t known then. Hadn’t understood what the pull in my chest meant, why her presence lingered even after she was gone. She was my mate.

And still, I had chosen Patricia.

I should have confirmed the bond. I should have listened when something inside me resisted every order I gave, every step I took away from Maria. But I hadn’t. I had ignored it, drowned it beneath desire and familiarity, convincing myself that what I felt was nothing more than inconvenience.

Yet the bond never stopped calling.

Now she stood close—too close—and the air between us felt charged, heavy with everything unsaid. The pull was unbearable, ancient and instinctive, roaring to life now that distance no longer muted it. The thought of her leaving again tightened something brutal in my chest.

I didn’t think.

I didn’t hesitate.

In the next second, my hand came up, gripping her firmly as I claimed her lips with mine. The kiss was deep, consuming, stripped of restraint, every ounce of longing, regret, and hunger pouring into it. It wasn’t gentle. It couldn’t be. It was the release of something I had denied for far too long.

For the first time since she had been taken from me, the bond went still, sated, undeniable, alive.

I continued peppering kisses all over her neck, she kept resisting but her body said otherwise.

A loud knock echoed from the door.

"Darren!"

I stiffened.

That was patricia, I had almost forgotten she came with me.