~ RONAN ~ 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

She’s seated at the edge of the bed when I walk in, her back straight, hands folded in her lap like she’s been coached to sit that way. Nikolai is across the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and the look he gives me when I enter says she’s fine and has been like that.

I cross to her.

"We’re leaving in five," I say softly, my eyes meeting hers. She looks away, and I reach for her hand to help her up.

She winces from my hold, withdraws her hand from mine, and tries to hide it just as fast, but I’ve already caught it.

Kael growls inwardly at me. The smell of fresh blood hits us instantly.

I reach for the edge of the gown’s sleeve, slowly, giving her every chance to pull back, and push it up gently.

I don’t let go of her hand. I turn it over slowly, and I frown instantly at the sight I’m met with. The material of the gown she’s wearing is pressed into her wrist, peeling off an old wound that’s freshly reopened.

"Look," Kael observes quietly. I already am.

Fury burns through me, and damn it, breaking Warren’s bones wasn’t just enough for this. I should have fucking ended him...

"Breathe," Kael says.

I’m trying. I’m fucking trying to... what’s that fucking damn stupid exercise again? Inhale. Exhale... How can someone be this evil? All because she’s mute? So, what?

I look up at her face. She’s staring at me with those soft hazel eyes, completely still, waiting to be told what to do with my reaction. Is this what they’ve turned her into now?

"What happened to you?" I ask, trying as much as I can to keep my voice as calm as I can without letting it growl out.

She holds my gaze for a moment. Then her free hand lifts, fingers moving. She’s signing. Thankfully, as an Alpha, I was made to understand certain languages, including signing.

"I’m not permitted to talk."

I stare at her. Hell fucking yeah, they threatened her.

"I’m sorry?"

She signs it again, slower. Patient with me, even now.

"I’m not permitted to talk. To sign, either. But it’s nothing."

Not permitted. Eighteen years old, in her own pack, her own home, and someone told her she was not permitted to use her own hands to speak.

"I’m going to go back and finish Warren," Kael says.

Get in line. "I know, but we have to be rational about it... We’re in his pack, and ending him would mean war with other packs, but we’re definitely not fucking letting this slide."

"It’s not nothing?" Repeating her answer with a frown on my face, she blinks. "And from this moment, when you’re speaking to me, you talk freely. Sign freely. However you need to communicate to me, Is that fine?"

She stares at me like I’ve said something in a foreign language. Her long lashes beat together, but she nods anyway, her face pulling back into her once sober self. Was I too harsh? Did I...

I move to the box Nikolai had brought in from the car, I never travel without a spare set, old habit, and pull out a loose-fitting top. It’s soft, and nothing that’s going to press against damaged skin.

"Here." I hold it out. "It’ll be more comfortable than..."

Her hands come up immediately, waving it off and then signing politely.

"I’m fine, thank you. I don’t need it."

How much more have they damaged her? There’s going to be a whole lot of healing to do.

I look at the gown. At the place where the seam meets her wrist.

"Are you comfortable?" I ask.

"Yes." Her reply comes almost immediately.

"She’s lying," Kael says plainly, with his usual tone of finality. "I can smell the pain on her."

I know.

I don’t push it, because I’m trying to live in her world, and she’s used to commands, doing things when someone yells at her, and I’m not going to remind her of the monsters she grew up with if I mandate anything on her. I need her to see that she has the right to reject and accept without anyone forcing anything on her.

I fold the top and set it on the bed beside her instead.

Nikolai’s mindlink opens quietly in the back of my head.

"She’s been abused, Ronan. I spoke to one of the maids while you were with Warren. She wouldn’t say much, but she explained some things."

I exhale slowly through my nose.

"Warren’s a dickhead," I answer. "Him and that woman, Nova. I’m certain they’ve both been at her. Probably for a long time."

"Take the box to the car, we’ll come after you," I add, turning to face him. He’s already moving.

"And what of her things?" he asks... and I sigh... The Moon Goddess help me if I leave this pack without killing Warren with my bare hands.

"Warren says she has nothing..."

The shock in Nikolai’s face tells me I wasn’t even exaggerating. "Isn’t that suspicious for someone he claims to be his sister?"

"I know, right? His mate called her a slave... Those are two different stories that don’t add up. We’ll do more findings when we get back."

Nikolai finishes and heads to the door. A pause... and then he connects to the mindlink again.

"I’m concerned, Ronan... when word gets back to the pack that your new bride is mute... you know what they’re going to say. The speculation alone is going to—"

"I don’t give two fucks what they say, Nik."

Silence on his end.

"She’s mute," I continue. "She’s not dead or less human. She has a voice—it just doesn’t come out of her mouth, and even if it never does, that’s nobody’s business but hers. What I give a fuck about is that she’s safe. That’s it. That’s the whole list."

Another pause. Longer this time.

"You’ve never said that about any of the others," he adds ever so casually.

I don’t answer him. This is the wrong time for such a joke he’s aiming at right now... even though he’s right, and I hate to admit it. Six brides, six different women I tried to keep at a distance because distance felt like mercy. If they didn’t get close, maybe losing them would hurt less. Maybe the curse would move faster and cleaner, and I could carry the guilt quietly.

She’s different. Different from the rest... I mean, I was expecting someone witty, sassy, talkative, or someone that’s too... I don’t know what I was expecting, but it’s different from her. And I want to protect her. Every instinct in me screams to protect her, and what’s worse is I do. Her faint scent keeps pulling at something in my chest. I don’t know who she really is, or what Warren was hiding, or how many more scars are under that gown that I haven’t seen yet.

What I know is this.

I’ve never in my life felt the need to put myself between something and another person.

"Let’s go," I say gently, extending my arm to her.

She stands to her feet, smooths the gown with both hands, and then, without being asked, she picks up the folded top from the bed. However, she doesn’t put it on—she just simply holds it.

"Small steps," Kael murmurs.

And I smile, feeling so relieved.