Page 25 of Ronan

Instead, I find myself leaning closer, putting my lips against his ear.

“He’s the one who pointed a gun at me,” I whisper, a wicked satisfaction warming my chest at the snarl and snap of fangs so close to my vulnerable neck.

But he won’t hurt me. Of this, I am sure.

Panic overtakes Bruce’s bloodshot face as Ronan turns to stare at him with a chilling calmness. Bruce must see the finality in Ronan’s eyes, because he rasps a pointless plea as he fights for his pitiful life. Ronan’s fist tightens ever so slowly, one vertebra after another separating and cracking, bone shattering bone. Each sickening crunch echoes in a high-pitched cracking, splinteringlike china. Life fades from his eyes until they’re empty, glassy marbles, and he hangs there, limp as a rag doll in Ronan’s iron grip.

Bruce’s body slumps to the ground in a heap when Ronan releases him, limbs landing at awkward, unnatural angles. Ronan draws in a series of shallow inhales, and his dark eyes refocus as he twists to face me, hands gentle as they cradle my cheeks. Thumbs swipe over my skin as he turns me in all directions, inspecting me for injuries.

“He hurt you,” Ronan whispers, running his gloved fingers over the streaks of my blood.

“And you made him pay for it.” His fingers flex against my cheek as I nuzzle into his touch, his gaze darting around my face. Time seems to catch up to both of us as he snaps back into the moment, the last of the haze in his eyes dissipating as his thumb drags over my lower lip. He stopsjust short of the painful split, a quiet whine forming in his throat that I feel more than hear.

The roaring ring in my ears subsides, and the chaos hits me in a rush of sensations—the blaring of the alarms, the voices yelling and weapons discharging, and the roar of vehicles firing up outside.

“We have to go,” he says suddenly, seizing my wrist and charging forward at a pace so rapid I can barely stay on my feet. He leads me through the long, dreary hallway and bursts out into the evening sun, where I blink away the brightness after so many days in the dark cell.

“Forgive me for what I’m about to do,” he murmurs in my ear, right as he grabs both of my hands and wrestles them behind my back. He forces my body to pitch forward as he takes control of it, and I call out at the unexpected pain in my shoulders and elbows as they twist into extreme angles. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he mutters, and I try to relax and let him lead the way.

People are everywhere—monsters and humans alike, all moving in a turbulent sea of motion. Some run while others chase, a few bodies lie permanently silenced on the ground, and I understand Ronan’s need to make me look like his prisoner.

It’s anarchy, and sudden panic has me struggling to breathe all over again.

He marches me towards a different building, and a guard nods at him as we walk past. “Good catch. That one put up a fight, huh?” Ronan only grunts as the other monster gestures towards the brick structure ahead. “The rebels are getting thrown into the southern cells until we figure out what happened.” With another nod, the other guard jogs away, sword drawn. We’re approaching the newprison when Ronan darts into a narrow alley between buildings.

“Ronan—”

“Quiet!” he hisses, shoving me forward then dragging me sideways into another alleyway. It’s a maze of turns until we emerge in a separate courtyard, the silence a stark contrast to the chaos.

“Did you do that? Did you set them—”

“I said,quiet, Cameron!” He gives an aggravated shake to my arms. “Can’t keep that fucking mouth shut to save your life, can you?”

“No,” I admit, and he snorts an angry laugh.

We approach a passenger van, and his head swivels, studying our surroundings before yanking open the back hatch and releasing my wrists. “Get in and stay silent.”

“What about—”

“Silent!”

“No!” I hiss, and the anger in his eyes could cut through stone. “What about Boomerang?”

“Gods damn it, you’re going to get us both killed! Now hush!” He stares at me for a moment, nostrils flaring when I refuse to move. With a frustrated growl, he lunges forward and grabs my arms, wrestling me into the van as I thrash.

“Ronan, you fucking promised!” My feet find purchase on his chest and shove him back, but somehow, he holds on and half-drags me until the edge of the bumper presses into my spine.

“Fuck!” he bellows as he releases me, dragging his fingernails through his hair as he takes a deep breath, shoving a finger in my face. “Get in there and stay quiet. If I die because of your fucking dog, I’m going to…”

“Well, you won’t do much because you’ll be dead,” I interrupt, and he glares at me, breath coming in labored pants.

A noise from behind us stirs him into action, and he scoops me up and unceremoniously tosses me inside the trunk, slamming the hatch. There isn’t even time for outrage before he disappears, and I’m alone.

Without his presence, the fear I’ve been suppressing hits me in a flood. My adrenaline fades and leaves me a shaking mess as my limbs tremble, and it’s so quiet I’m aware of every breath and thud of my heart. The van is parked away from the action, so there are no voices or footsteps. Even the blaring alarm is muffled into a dull buzz.

I’m alone.

Again.

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