Ramon's POV
The council chamber was empty now, the echoes of arguing elders still lingering in my mind. I had watched the captured rogue dragged away, his words burning in my ears: "She won't be safe where you hide her."
And he was right.
Talia wasn't safe, not in the house, not with guards, not with me trying to convince her she belonged here. I had tried. I had explained, pleaded, even kissed her to show she mattered. But it hadn't been enough. She hated me, or at least, she hated what she thought I had done.
I clenched my fists.
Zara.
Her name cut through every thought. Zara-the rogue member's sister. I thought she loved me,we laughed, joked together, I hadn't even mated with her yet.
And then she had tried to pin her pregnancy on me, and I had done what I had to do. I had tried to explain to her brothers, her family, but they had turned on me.
Her death had marked the beginning of this war.
And now, Talia, my mate, my responsibility, was in the middle of it.
I had to make a choice.
I couldn't just wait for the elders to decide her fate. I couldn't rely on guards, walls, or rules. She had to learn to defend herself, to survive. And if It was going to be done, I had to do it myself.
*****
I found her sitting in her room, staring out the window at the forest as if it could answer all her questions. She didn't even notice me when I stepped inside.
"Talia," I said softly.
She flinched and spun toward me, eyes flashing with suspicion and anger.
"What now?" she demanded. "Are you here to lock me up again?"
"No," I said, holding up my hands. "I'm here to make sure you survive."
Her laugh was bitter, sharp. "Survive? Oh, right. Because that's my life now,learning how to defend myself from the people you made enemies of."
"I didn't make enemies," I said firmly.
"They already existed. But I can't keep you caged while they hunt you. You need to learn."
She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. "And you're going to teach me? Because that's supposed to make me feel safe?"
"It's the only way you'll be safe," I said. "I can't control everything. I can't always be there. But if you know how to defend yourself, they'll have to think twice before touching you."
Her jaw tightened. "I don't want your pity or your training. I want freedom."
"You'll get freedom," I said quietly. "But first, you have to survive. And surviving means learning how to fight."
I saw her hesitation, the part of her that wanted to argue, to refuse. But there was also a spark in her eyes, a stubborn, fierce spark that refused to back down. That spark was what I needed.
"Come with me," I said finally.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Why should I?"
"Because if you don't, you might not make it to see tomorrow," I said, voice low and serious.
Her eyes widened slightly. The weight of my words landed. Slowly, she nodded. Not trusting me, not agreeing, but she followed.
We stepped outside into the fading light of evening. The forest loomed ahead, dark and alive.
"Stay close," I said, keeping my tone calm but firm. "Watch me. Learn from me. And do not stray."
She nodded again, and I noticed the way her hands clenched at her sides, the way her shoulders squared. She wasn't entirely afraid. Not yet.
I led her through the trees to a clearing I often used for training. It was secluded, but open enough to move freely. The ground was uneven, littered with roots and leaves, and the scent of pine and earth filled the air.
"First lesson," I said, "awareness. Everything matters. Sound, smell, movement. You have to sense danger before it reaches you."
She frowned. "Like what? A rogue jumping out at me?"
"Exactly," I said. "But also people hiding in plain sight, animals, even the wind. You have to trust your instincts."
I demonstrated a few movements, showing how to pivot, how to hold balance, how to throw a strike without overcommitting. My movements were slow at first, calculated, making sure she could follow.
"Try it," I said.
She lifted her fists hesitantly, mimicking my stance. Her body was stiff, unpracticed, but there was determination there.
"Relax," I told her. "Move with me. Not against me."
For a while, she stumbled. Her feet twisted awkwardly, her arms swung too wide, her punches missed. I corrected her gently, showing the proper motion, adjusting her grip.
"You're stubborn," I said, smirking slightly.
"I'm not stubborn," she shot back. "I'm cautious."
"Cautious is fine," I said. "But stubbornness will save your life. Trust me."
Gradually, she began to get it. Her punches landed, her stance was firmer, her breathing steadier. I could see the tension in her shoulders ease just a fraction.
"You're learning fast," I said, quietly proud.
She shot me a sideways glare. "Don't patronize me."
"I'm not patronizing," I said. " just observing and complimenting."
We trained like that for hours, the fading light stretching into early night. I could see her growing more confident with every move, every correct strike, every dodge.
Then, as she finally landed a strike perfectly, I heard it;a rustle behind the trees.
I froze immediately.
"Talia," I whispered, stepping in front of her. "Stay here."
Her eyes widened. "What, what is it?"
I didn't answer. I scanned the forest. Shadows moved unnaturally. There was a presence. It wasn't an animal. Something else.
My pulse quickened. Protective instincts flared.
"Talia," I said, voice low but firm, "stay close. Do not move. Do not speak."
The rustling grew louder. Footsteps? Claws? I couldn't tell.
Something was coming.
And it was coming toward us.
I tightened my stance, muscles coiled, every sense alert.
"Talia," I whispered, "whatever happens, trust me."
Her hands gripped mine instinctively. Fear, confusion, and trust collided in her eyes.
I could feel the tension in her body, the tremor in her hands. But I also felt the fire, the spark I needed her to survive.
The shadow moved closer, just beyond the torchlight's reach.
And then I saw it, it was an outline, a figure stepping silently through the trees.
My breath caught.
"Talia," I said again, more urgently. "Ready yourself."
Because whatever was coming...
It wasn't coming to talk.
And this was just the beginning.
