Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!-Chapter 150: Worries

The dungeons echoed with the distant clang of iron and murmured threats, but Ronan wasn’t focused on the captured assassins. Their screams, their trembling fear—it all meant nothing to him in that moment.

The plan had failed. Not his plan, but Troy’s. And while Riven was upstairs, bandaged and resting with a limp that twisted Ronan’s stomach every time he thought about it, Ronan was down here already preparing for what came next.

Because it didn’t matter that the assassins had been caught. That was a temporary victory. The real enemy still sat in the council chambers with perfectly ironed robes and patient smiles. The Elders.

They’d grown bold. Bold enough to start moving in the daylight. Bold enough to clear out noble witnesses from a crowded market without a trace of struggle. It had been too clean—too organized. It meant only one thing.

"They’ve started picking sides," Ronan muttered to himself, staring down at the cold stone floor of the hall outside the holding cells.

The nobles weren’t innocent bystanders anymore. Not when they’d quietly vanished before the attack. That kind of coordination didn’t happen by chance.

He turned on his heel and headed toward his study.

Everything was accelerating now. The elders were either going to scramble to cover their tracks or try again—this time, more viciously. He couldn’t give them that chance.

He needed to move. Quietly. Strategically.

He has positioned his people carefully across the estate and capital, infiltrate their support lines, expose every traitor in their pockets. That was why he took his time to plan. More importantly, he had to do it without tipping anyone off. There could be no leaks. Not this time. Because now they knew who they were really targeting.

Riven.

He pushed open the carved double doors of his war room with a controlled breath and gestured to a guard.

"Summon Troy," he said. "Now."

Within minutes, the tall man walked in, straight-backed, glasses in place, not a single scratch on him. Not one bruise or smear of blood. And that alone irritated Ronan more than he cared to admit.

"Alpha." Troy bowed respectfully.

Ronan didn’t respond right away. He watched him. Just watched, with the weight of a predator sizing up his prey.

"You’re uninjured," he said finally, voice neutral.

"Yes."

"You executed the plan."

"I did." A slight nod.

Ronan’s jaw flexed. "Then explain to me why my mate was bleeding."

Troy didn’t flinch. He merely pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "There were more of them than we accounted for. At least thirty. Unfortunately... There was a delay in the plan." Ronan arrived later than they expected.

Ronan stepped closer, towering over him.

"Then maybe you shouldn’t have made the plan in the first place."

That finally made Troy pause. But again, he didn’t argue. He merely gave a solemn nod. "Understood."

"You’re not stupid, Troy. So I need to know why you would risk everything for that plan. That stupidly crude plan."

Troy had no reply. He stared at the ground.

Silence stretched between them.

"I failed you," Troy admitted. "And him. I’ll accept the consequences."

Ronan exhaled through his nose, the urge to pace nearly overwhelming. But he didn’t. He stayed still, composed.

"You will," he said simply. "Once the elders are dealt with, you’re going to take time off. That’s not a request."

Troy blinked. "Sir—"

"I don’t care what you think you owe," Ronan cut in. "You’ll step back. Rethink everything. Because if you ever come to me with another gamble like this, I’m not letting you off with just a ’vacation’." It was more of a suspension.

Troy lowered his head. "Understood."

Ronan watched him a moment longer, studying the way Troy stood there, completely accepting, no defiance in his posture. No arrogance. Just guilt. Loyalty. And something else—something Ronan couldn’t quite name.

He let him go with a simple wave of dismissal.

Troy turned and left silently.

He still didn’t understand. Not really. Why risk everything? Why base a plan so fragile around the idea that the enemy would take the bait and be sloppy enough to get caught?

He didn’t understand why they’d gambled like that for such a crude setup. And maybe he never would.

All he knew was that it would never happen again.

The study was quiet, lit only by the faint glow of the fireplace. Papers were strewn across the desk, half-read reports and hastily scrawled notes. Ronan sat still amidst it all, eyes fixed on nothing in particular.

He had intended to sleep here tonight. The chaos of the day, the rage simmering just beneath his skin—it made it hard to face anything else. Even Riven.

But when the hours stretched on and exhaustion finally began to pull at him, Ronan found himself not settling into the couch by the fire... but standing outside the master bedroom door.

He didn’t plan it. His legs carried him before his mind could catch up.

He opened the door quietly.

The room was dim, the moon casting pale light across the covers. And there, sitting upright in bed, was Riven.

He blinked at Ronan slowly, lids heavy with sleep. "You came back."

Ronan’s heart twisted. "You didn’t sleep?"

Riven shrugged, the motion slow and tired. "Didn’t want to. Not until you came."

The guilt hit harder than any blade. Riven should have been resting, recovering. Instead, he waited for him. Even when Ronan had been distant and consumed by his own feelings.

Ronan didn’t answer. He just stepped forward, his body moving before his thoughts did again.

He shifted—white fur flowing into place, tall frame collapsing into the graceful form of his wolf. The change was silent, seamless. When he looked up, his blue eyes met Riven’s.

Riven smiled softly and reached out. He tried to pull the white wolf closer, and Ronan inched closer to help Riven and not let him tire himself out any further.

He didn’t demand apologies or explanations. He understood that Ronan was fighting his own battles—on the outside and within.

"You worry too much," Riven murmured, sleep tugging at the edges of his voice.

Ronan huffed lightly through his nose, closing his eyes as Riven’s fingers stroked his fur.