Chapter 4 We Need to Talk

As though he sensed my burning stare even from beyond the foyer, Ronan Blackthorn wheeled around and fixed me with a steady, chilling look.

His eyes, hard and guarded, revealed nothing-while Talia Montgomery, standing behind him, scanned the hallway until her gaze landed on me.

Watching them look so perfectly at ease together made my stomach twist; I couldn't bear it. I dropped my eyes to the polished hardwood floor.

The trek up the porch steps felt interminable.

My father ushered me upward and swung open the heavy oak door before me; I stepped inside stiffly.

This was my first time crossing the threshold of the Alpha's residence.

Alpha Donovan was notoriously strict about admitting anyone outside the immediate pack leadership-but Talia was different.

Treated like a daughter by both him and Luna Serena, and Ronan's best friend to boot, she roamed these halls often and freely.

"Walk upstairs, turn right," my father said in a measured voice.

"That leads you to the Alpha's office. Go in-sit. Don't do a thing until he arrives."

My jaw dropped; I wanted to ask about what he meant by "he," by Alpha, by all of it.

But my father offered no explanation. He didn't give me the chance to speak.

With that, he pivoted and walked back downstairs, leaving me tense and bewildered.

My chest tightened. I swallowed and glanced at the staircase.

Each step creaked underfoot as though protesting my presence.

My knees shook, my breath came in ragged bursts. I was terrified-my pulse pounded like a war drum.

Reaching the landing, I gingerly turned right.

The first door stood imposingly before me, its brass plate gleaming with the words "ALPHA DONOVAN", and just beneath it emblazoned with the Duskwind Pack's emblem: a striking black wolf silhouette howling at a crimson moon.

Fingertips trembling, I rapped on the door twice. Silence. Empty silence.

I wasn't expecting an answer-Alpha Donovan was supposedly away on urgent pack business. My heart thundered.

I stood frozen, waiting. After several torturous seconds I grasped the knob-and it clicked open.

Inside was just as I'd imagined: broad and austere.

An expansive mahogany desk dominated the center, with a black leather executive chair nestled behind it.

A low coffee table, encircled by four black club chairs, sat a few feet away.

My stomach fluttered as I tiptoed over to the walls, where photos chronicled a lineage of legacy and pride.

I studied them one by one.

The first frame captured a younger Alpha Donovan and Luna Serena, beaming side by side at a chubby-cheeked infant-Ronan, with chocolate-brown curls and vibrant green eyes, his grin shining like moonlight.

The sight tugged gently at my lips.

Further down, a timeline of Ronan's life lay frozen in glossy prints-first steps, birthdays, school graduations.

My smile faded with each photo until I reached the most recent one.

There was Ronan, arm around Talia's shoulders, their smiles identical, their closeness undeniable.

Alpha Donovan and Luna Serena stood beside them, proud and grateful.

I recognized the setting-it looked like last year's Duskwind Unity Gala, an elite event where Alphas attended with their bonded partners.

Ronan, being the Alpha's heir, could bring someone special. He'd chosen Talia.

I remembered her excitement-her squeals about dresses, her radiant eyes.

At first, I had scoffed inwardly, deeming it platonic.

Maybe he'd needed someone steady by his side. But now I understood how potently wrong I'd been.

The air in the room seemed to constrict as the hinges squeaked. My name came out of nowhere:

"Kaia."

I snapped around. There he was-Ronan-standing in the doorway.

My breath caught as his emerald gaze sliced through me.

He looked tense, jaw clenched, every muscle poised. In that moment I realized I had to stand upright. No crying. No shaking. I straightened my back.

But inside I was more unravelled than ever.

"We need to talk."

The words settled like a decree. I nodded, voice lost to fear, mind racing.

Thoughts blurred. Doubts crashed and rolled. I swallowed hard, my instincts screaming betrayal.

Ronan slipped aside, letting a procession of figures step in: first Talia, pale and burdened, clutching his hand; then my mother, placid; and my father, whose sharp eyes watched us all.

Talia bit her lip, her blush flush with guilt. She wouldn't meet my gaze, head bowed as though ashamed.

Each passing heartbeat pounded louder in the silent room.

I remained still, but inside, the storm raged.