Chapter 26 Paradise, After All #3
I pointed at him. “Careful. I am fragile and vengeful.”
“I know.”
“You like that.”
“Yes.”
That warmed me in a place no pain could reach.
Later, Ronan found me alone on the covered terrace. Sava had ordered Ian into a shower because blood was not an accessory, and I had been given exactly eight minutes of unsupervised air after swearing on my future bodily cooperation that I would not climb stairs, argue with elders, or chase anyone.
The lake beyond the terrace was gray under the afternoon sky. The island looked beautiful from a distance. That felt rude after everything it had done.
Ronan stepped out quietly.
I didn’t turn. “If you are here to throw me off the balcony, I am going to be very annoyed. I just got the bandage changed.”
“I am not here to throw you off the balcony.”
“Good. I am very tired.”
He stood beside me at the railing.
For a while, neither of us spoke. Ronan was easier to understand in silence. In speech, he wore Alpha formality like armor. In silence, the edges showed. Exhaustion. Grief. Worry he had not earned the right to put down.
“I thanked Sava,” he said. “I thanked Cormac.”
“I hope Cormac was annoying about it.”
“He was.”
“Good.”
His gaze stayed on the lake. “I have not thanked you.”
That turned my head. Ronan looked at me then. No council room. No ruling. No execution hidden under careful language. Just a man who had almost ordered his brother’s death and would have to live with how close he had come.
“Thank you,” he said. “For saving Ian.”
The words were formal but his voice was not.
My throat tightened. “I mostly yelled at him.”
“Yes. It was effective.”
“He listens very poorly for someone with supernatural hearing.”
The faintest curve touched Ronan’s mouth, then it faded.
“You brought him back from a place I could not reach.”
“He was not yours to reach the same way.”
Ronan absorbed that.
I wondered if it hurt. I hoped it did just enough to matter.
“I stood behind humans today,” he said.
“Barely.”
“Yes,” he said. “Barely.”
At least he was honest.
His eyes met mine. “Do not make me regret it.”
There he was, Alpha again. But softer. Not kind, exactly. Ronan didn’t seem built for easy kindness. This was something more useful. A warning without contempt. A boundary without denying I had earned a place inside the conversation.
“I will do my best to keep Dad from starting a podcast,” I said.
“I do not know what that means.”
“It means I accept the seriousness of your warning.”
Ronan looked skeptical.
Fair.
“I know what’s at stake,” I said. “I’m angry. I’m not stupid.”
“No,” he said. “You are not.”
That felt like praise from Ronan, which was unsettling.
He turned to leave.
“Ronan.”
He paused.
“You saved us too,” I said. “At the end.”
His face went still.
“I know you almost didn’t,” I added, because apparently I had chosen honesty as my new bad habit. “I know you had already decided where the line was. I am not forgiving that today.”
“I would not ask you to.”
“But you stepped over it eventually.”
He looked toward the closed terrace doors. Toward the room where Ian was somewhere inside, alive because Ronan had stopped the pack instead of letting old law finish what Silas started.
“I should have stepped sooner,” he said.
“Yes.”
He nodded once.
Then he went back inside.
That evening, I saw Evelyn. I had been moved to a smaller sitting room off the old library because Sava claimed I needed quiet, which she seemed to define as a place where she could glare at me privately.
Ian sat beside me, one hand on my thigh, his thumb moving slowly back and forth like he had discovered the motion helped both of us breathe.
Through the open door, two wolves escorted Evelyn down the hall.
She was in silver cuffs.
Her hair was still beautiful because some women were punished by the universe less efficiently than others. Her face, however, had lost its bright cruelty. She looked pale, furious, and afraid in a way she didn’t want anyone to notice.
I noticed.
She saw me. Her eyes flicked to Ian’s hand on my leg. Then to the mark hidden beneath my fresh bandage and her mouth tightened.
I smiled.
“Oh, Evelyn,” I said, sweet enough to rot teeth. “I hope you enjoy your trip.”
Sava, behind me, made a sound so close to a cackle she had to turn it into a cough.
Evelyn’s eyes flashed. “You think you won.”
“No,” I said. “I think you lost. I’m still forming an opinion about the rest.”
Ian’s hand tightened on my thigh. Evelyn looked at him. For one second, I saw the thing she had wanted. The weapon. The leash. The status of having a wolf like Ian answer through her hand.
Then Ian looked at her with no rage at all, only dismissal, and that hurt her more.
Good.
The guards moved her on.
Sava stepped into the doorway and watched them disappear. “Northern tribunal,” she said. “Cold cells. Worse food.”
“I hope they have rash cream.”
This time, Sava did cackle.
Ian looked between us.
“You are both terrifying,” he said.
Sava patted his shoulder as she passed. “You’re learning.”
By the next morning, the island had decided to pretend it was functional.
The wedding was officially canceled due to a security incident.
Staff were compensated, threatened, comforted, or all three depending on what they had seen and how loudly they were reacting.
Grant left first, flanked by two wolves in black suits.
He didn’t look at me.
That was wise.
Tessa watched him go from the front window, Henry pressed against her legs and Evan standing at a very respectful distance beside her.
“You okay?” I asked.
She looked at the boat pulling away from the dock.
“No.”
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into me.
“But I think I will be,” she said.
“Good.”
She glanced toward Evan and I tried not to smile.
She saw me trying. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You thought nice wolf again.”
“I did.”
She groaned.
From across the room, Aunt Linda said, “I think nice wolf is charming.”
Cormac, who had somehow ended up in the same room despite being under medical orders to sleep, said, “The phrase is growing on me.”
Sava snapped, “You should be unconscious.”
“Your bedside manner remains inspirational.”
Aunt Linda brought him tea and he accepted it.
The pack was doomed.
By the third day, I was well enough to sit outside under a blanket while Ian and Ronan argued quietly about Thorne succession, council consequences, and whether the island needed more guards.
I understood about half of it. The other half sounded like violent estate planning.
When Ronan said, “You cannot leave until Thorne is stabilized.”
Ian’s hand tightened on mine.
I looked at him. “Leave where?”
Ian’s face shifted.
Ah. Secret conversation.
My new favorite way to become enraged.
Sava, seated nearby with a medical chart and no patience, said, “He intended to take you to your home to gather your things.”
I blinked and Ian looked mildly betrayed. Sava didn’t care.
“My apartment?” I asked.
“And your work. Your accounts. Your human life.” Ian’s voice was careful. “You will need to decide what you want brought here and what you want left behind.”
Brought here.
The words settled between us.
My old place. My old bed. My old chipped mug that said ask me about my terrible choices. My life before the island, before teeth and blood and full moons.
“You assumed I’m moving here?” I asked.
The room went quiet. Ronan looked like he regretted attending this portion of the conversation.
Ian didn’t look away. “No.”
The bond opened. He let me feel the truth before the word could hurt me.
Hope.
Fear.