2. Ronan #2
“I can stay on pressure if?—”
“The bleeding is controlled,” Petra says. “Sink.”
Genevieve goes.
Water runs pink as Marcus’s blood leaves her hands.
The wolf hates the tremor she can no longer hide.
It is slight enough that no one else would notice.
I do.
She scrubs beneath her nails, careful and methodical, as though routine can hold the world together.
Perhaps for her, it can.
Dara steps closer while Petra cuts away the remains of my shirt and examines my side.
“We need to talk,” Dara says quietly.
“Not now.”
“Yes. Now.”
Her gaze shifts to Genevieve at the sink.
“She cannot walk out with that recording.”
“She cannot walk out at all.”
Dara’s expression sharpens.
Across the room, Genevieve goes still.
She heard me.
Human hearing should not be good enough at that distance. Perhaps I am simply too aware of her.
She turns off the water.
Slowly.
“I cannot leave?”
I meet her eyes.
“No.”
The word lands hard.
Wrong, but necessary.
Her face closes.
“What does that mean?”
“One attacker escaped. He saw your face and knows you recorded the ambush, my shift, and his partner’s death. By now, he may already be telling whoever sent him.”
“I have an apartment.”
“Which may be watched.”
“You do not know that.”
“No. But they accessed Marcus’s medical information. Finding your address will be easier.”
“I have a hospital badge.”
“Compromised.”
“I have a police department with phones.”
“And a recording of a man turning into a wolf.”
Her mouth tightens.
She understands the danger and hates it.
“I am not your prisoner.”
“No.”
“Then what am I?”
The wolf answers before the man can stop it.
“Under my protection.”
The words come out too low and too possessive.
Dara’s eyes narrow. Petra pauses with the needle in her hand.
Genevieve goes very still.
I force myself to continue as though my pulse is not trying to break my ribs.
“The man who escaped knows you are a witness. Until we know who he is, who sent him, and where they will look for you, you cannot safely return to your apartment.”
“That is not the same as saying I cannot leave.”
“No.”
“Then say what you actually mean.”
I hold her gaze.
“I cannot force you to stay without proving I am exactly what you should fear.”
Something changes in Dara’s expression.
Genevieve waits.
“But if you leave tonight, I will follow you. Dara will follow me. Half the pack will follow Dara, and your apartment building will become the least discreet location in the city.”
Callum makes a small choking sound from the corridor.
Dara looks toward him, and he disappears from view.
Genevieve studies me.
“You are attempting to make remaining here sound like my decision.”
“It is your decision.”
“One made under threat.”
“The threat is real. I did not create it.”
“No. You only turned into a wolf in front of my camera.”
“To prevent a man from cutting your throat.”
Her lips press together.
Neither of us looks away.
“One night,” she says.
My wolf rejects the limit immediately.
I ignore it.
“Until morning.”
“In the morning, you explain everything you know. We review the danger and discuss my options again.”
“You will not return to your apartment until it is secured.”
“That is tomorrow’s argument.”
“It is not an argument.”
“It will be.”
Dara coughs into her hand.
Petra drives the needle through my skin without warning.
Pain cuts across my side.
I do not react.
Genevieve notices anyway.
“One night,” I say.
“Agreed.”
The wolf paces inside me.
One night is neither enough nor safe. It does not understand negotiation; it understands possession, protection, threat, and mate.
I shut the last word down before it can take shape.
Petra stitches my side without gentleness.
I deserve that.
Genevieve crosses her arms.
Blood stains the cuff of her sleeve—Marcus’s and mine.
The sight does something vicious to the wolf.
“I need my laptop,” she says.
I blink.
It is not the response I expected.
“What?”
“My laptop. My charger. Access to the hospital files. Those men knew Marcus was healing slowly. The answer to how they knew is in the data.”
Dara looks at me.
There it is.
The reason whoever ordered the ambush will fear her.
Not because she is helpless, but because she sees patterns hidden from wolves who rely too heavily on scent, instinct, and old rules.
She walked into an ambush intended for someone else and began constructing a framework before the blood dried.
“You are not accessing outside hospital systems from inside my safehouse.”
“Then give me a contained machine and copied files.”
“No.”
“Then you are choosing ignorance.”
The room goes quiet again.
Dara looks down. Petra presses her lips together.
From somewhere in the hall, Callum whispers, “I like her.”
“Callum,” Dara says.
He goes silent.
Genevieve keeps her attention on me.
“I can help you, or I can sit in a room and become increasingly furious. Your choice.”
My side burns.
Marcus breathes shallowly behind me.
A dead attacker lies at Dock 17. A second man is beyond my boundary, carrying news of a human witness.
And Genevieve Ashcroft stands in my infirmary with wet hands, blood on her sleeve, and no inclination to yield.
The wolf goes silent.
Focused.
Certain.
That is the most dangerous part.
“We will discuss access in the morning.”
“That is what people say when they mean no.”
“It is what I say when my Beta is unconscious, my pack is clearing a corpse from a human dock, and I still do not know who ordered the attack.”
She studies me, then nods once.
“Fine. Morning.”
She has not surrendered; she has delayed the argument.
I should not find that attractive.
I do.
Petra finishes the last stitch and tapes a bandage over my side.
“You will heal,” she says. “Slowly, because you were stupid near silver again.”
“I had reasons.”
“You always do.”
She turns back to Marcus.
“I need quiet. Everyone out except Dara.”
“I stay.”
“No,” Petra says. “You deal with the human before the hallway invents stories.”
Too late.
Stories are already forming in every wolf watching Genevieve.
Human. Witness. Threat. Mate.
The last word moves through me like a blade between ribs.
I stand.
Genevieve tracks the movement.
Exhaustion shows now in the shadows beneath her eyes, the way she holds herself too straight, and the careful control of her mouth.
But she does not sag or ask for comfort.
She does not ask what will happen if my pack decides she is too dangerous to keep.
She is smart enough to understand the answer.
They do not get to decide.
Neither do I.
That choice belongs to her.
The wolf disagrees.
I lead her out of the infirmary.
The corridor clears too slowly.
I let my eyes burn gold.
It clears faster.
Callum remains near the kitchen doorway, pretending he has not heard every word.
He is young, curious, and far too easy to read.
“Callum.”
He straightens as though shocked.
“Yes, Alpha.”
“Spare room on three. Clean sheets. Lock the outer hall cameras to internal view only. No one enters without her permission except Petra in a medical emergency.”
Callum glances at me, surprised.
Dara, still inside the infirmary, hears every word.
Good.
Genevieve’s expression reveals nothing.
“Post a guard at each stairwell,” I continue. “They are protecting the floor, not confining her.”
Her eyebrows rise slightly.
Callum glances at her only once, but I see the wonder, concern, and curiosity.
A young wolf looking at a human who did not break.
“Yes, Alpha.”
He runs.
Genevieve watches him go.
“He is afraid of you.”
“He is respectful.”
“He nearly tripped over his own feet.”
“He is young.”
“He is curious.”
“Yes.”
“So am I.”
I look down at her.
Wrong thing to do.
She is too close. The corridor is too narrow.
Her scent reaches me beneath blood, soap, and rain.
Citrus. Warm skin. Human fear banked beneath discipline.
And beneath that, something I have no name for except mine.
I will not say it.
I step back.
Her eyes sharpen.
She noticed.
“You are afraid of something too,” she says.
“No.”
“Lie.”
I say nothing.
She waits.
I have faced rival Alphas with knives at my throat and felt less exposed than I do in this hallway with this human woman looking at me.
“I am afraid of what the man who escaped will do with your face.”
The truth, though not all of it.
Enough.
“And the rest?”
“What rest?”
“The reason you looked at me in that alley as though you recognized me.”
The wolf presses against my skin.
I hold it down.
“I do not know.”
It is the most honest answer I have.
She watches me for another moment, then accepts it.
For now.
Callum returns and leads us to the third floor.
The spare room is small: a bed, a chair, an old dresser, and one narrow window facing the neighboring building’s brick wall.
Safe. Plain. Temporary.
Genevieve steps inside and looks around without comment.
I remain in the doorway.
“You will have guards at both ends of the hall.”
“I heard.”
“They will not enter.”
“I heard that too.”
“Do not leave the building without telling me or Dara.”
“That sounds suspiciously like a new rule.”
“It is a request.”
“A request made by an Alpha with glowing eyes.”
I force the gold back.