~ ROSELLE ~

"I have every intention of breaking more of your teeth," Ronan says, his voice low and dangerous as blood drips from Warren’s mouth. "I gave you my warning the last time you came to my pack. She has a name. Address her with that name, or I will carve it into your fucking face."

The threat is delivered with such absolute certainty that no one in the room doubts he means it.

Warren coughs up blood, spattering crimson across the marble floor, and I stand rooted in place, my mind struggling to process what just happened.

Nikolai walks up to me, standing inches away, his presence a steady anchor in the chaos.

"Trust me," he says quietly, his voice pitched for only me to hear, "he’s reining it down because of you. Ronan doesn’t tolerate disrespect twice. If you weren’t here, Warren would already be dead."

I look up at him, my hands trembling as I sign, I don’t want things to go bad... I just want the truth.

"She’s not the rightful heir," Warren says, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice is ragged, bitter, and defensive. "Yes, the bloodline passes through her, but the Alpha King made a decree. The next rightful heir should be a male. And he happens to not have a male child, so he placed his Beta as the next in line. Which happens to fall to my father, and now... now it falls to me."

The words hit me like physical blows.

My father never told me this. My father told me bedtime stories about how he couldn’t wait for me to grow up, how I would make a great Luna just like my mother. He told me about leading the pack alongside a strong mate, about the responsibility of our bloodline. He never once mentioned that his will contradicted everything he taught me.

Or did Warren fabricate this entire thing?

I curl my hands into fists, refusing to believe every word that leaves his mouth. My nails dig into my palms hard enough to draw blood.

"Do you mean to tell me the Alpha King refused to make his daughter lead because of some male bullshit?" Ronan’s voice carries a note of absolute disgust that mirrors my own.

Warren opens his hands in a gesture of false innocence, as if what he’s about to say is the most reasonable thing in the world.

"What does it look like to you?" he asks, his tone dripping with condescension. "You don’t expect the great pack of Westbrook to be governed and ruled by a woman, do you? Women belong in the kitchen, assisting, supporting... no, that can’t happen. The Alpha King did what was right. What was necessary. What was proper."

From the corner of my eyes, I can tell Ronan is disgusted. His entire body is tense, his jaw clenched so hard I can see a muscle twitching beneath his skin.

"Anyone who believes that," Ronan says quietly, "is a coward."

He steps closer to Warren, his presence filling the space with an intensity that makes the air feel suffocating.

"I’ve ruled alongside strong women," He continues. "Women who lead with intelligence, with strategy, with a strength that makes men like you look pathetic. There’s a power in femininity that weak men have always been terrified of."

He looks directly at Warren, and the disgust in his expression is obvious.

"You’ll need proof to back up your claim," Ronan hisses wirh a quiet rage. "because you know the consequence that follows if you’re lying. So before we discuss your alleged will, I have a question for you."

He takes a step closer. "Who in your fucking pack is poisoning my Luna?"

The confusion that dances across Warren’s face would almost be convincing if I hadn’t already learned how skilled he is at lying. But I can’t believe it.

"I have no idea about that..." Warren says, his voice stuttering slightly.

"So, you’re telling me she’s your foster sister," Ronan bites out his tone dripping with disbelief, "and yet you have no idea that she was being poisoned by someone from your pack?"

Warren’s face goes pale, and for a moment, I think he might actually confess. But then his expression hardens into cruel and defensive mode.

"I might be her brother, but I’m not her keeper," he snaps, his voice taking on a bitter edge.

"How about you ask her? I think she might have something to know about that. She’s desperate, and so keen on getting my attention. And in as much as I know, she’s ready to go any length to be a pick me."

Ronan growls, and before he can lunge at Warren again, I step between them and grab his hand.

I don’t even know why I do it. After all, Warren is the same person who made me feel so helpless.

"She once drank wolfsbane," Warren continues, his words coming faster now, like he’s trying to bury me under an avalanche of accusations before Ronan can stop him. "Can you believe that? Just to get my attention. Just to get me to look at her, to care, to notice her existence. She was willing to poison herself if it meant I might give her a second glance."

He steps closer to Ronan, emboldened by his own lies.

"What about some other ploy?" he asks mockingly. "What about the time she cut her own wrists and blamed it on the guards? What about the time she pretended to be sick for weeks, lying in bed, hoping I’d come visit her? She’s been doing this her entire life — trying to manipulate me, trying to make me feel guilty, trying to make me take responsibility for her broken mental state."

The cruelty in his voice is staggering.

"She’s not a victim," Warren spits out. "She’s a manipulator. A desperate, pathetic girl who couldn’t accept that I didn’t want her. Couldn’t accept that she wasn’t good enough."

I can feel the burning rage in Ronan as I hold him tighter

Something inside me shatters at Warren’s words. I can’t believe he’s using one of the darkest moments of my life against me like this. Yes, I had taken Wolfsbane when I was young, broken, and foolish enough to think ending my life was the only way out. I’ve made mistakes—more than I care to admit—but none of that was because of him.

None of it. That wasn’t some grand sacrifice for Warren, no matter how desperately he wants to twist it into one. It wasn’t for his pathetic excuse of an explanation, and it sure as hell wasn’t for him.