The Ring That Chose Me.
I tried using water first then soap next. Worked it around the band until my skin went raw. Nothing changed.
Went for the knife after that. Tip of the blade under the metal, careful, angling for leverage. Ryker’s hand closed around my wrist before I could push it further.
“Stop,” he said.
“Get off me.”
“You’ll cut yourself before you cut that ring.”
I yanked my hand back anyway breathing hard. I stared at the thin red line already forming where the blade slipped. He was right. Hated that he was right.
“Why can’t I get it off,” I said.
He said nothing.
“Ryker.”
“You’ll only make it worse,” he said.
“Worse than what?”
Silence. Same maddening silence he wrapped around everything that actually mattered.
Ivy caught up before I could push harder. Took one look at Ryker’s shoulder and went pale under all that usual sharpness.
“Infirmary both of you. Now.”
He didn’t argue this time. Told me more than anything he’d said all night about how bad that wound really was. I followed him uninvited. I wasn’t done with him yet.
Ivy cut the ceremonial leather away from his shoulder, quick, like an expert. The wound underneath turned my stomach. Deep. Torn wider than a clean shot should’ve left it, blood still welling dark around the edges.
He barely reacted, his jaw tight. Breathing steady. Like the pain belonged to somebody else’s body.
“Could’ve said something,” Ivy snapped, cleaning the wound rougher than it needed. “Instead you walk around bleeding through your shirt for an hour like it’s nothing.”
“Wasn’t urgent.”
“Still not urgent to you. Even now.” Threaded a needle without looking up. “One of these days that’s going to get you killed and I’m not going to feel bad saying I told you so.”
He didn’t answer. Just let her work. Old familiarity between them, the kind that only comes from years of this exact argument playing out the same way.
I stood off to the side and watched. Never seen anyone talk to an Alpha like that. Never seen an Alpha let them.
Ivy stepped out to mix something. I closed the distance the second the door shut.
“Why can’t the ring come off.”
Nothing.
“Why was I chosen. Not Selene, not some other woman. Me.”
Nothing.
“Who attacked us tonight. What was that symbol on his arm. Why did every one of them come for me instead of you.”
He looked at the wall. Not at me.
“Why did you protect me,” I said. Quieter this time.
That one got an answer. “Because letting you die wasn’t an option.”
“Why not?”
He looked away.
“Not today,” he said.
Got up and walked out before I could get another word past my teeth. I just stood there staring at the tray. The needle was still threaded, and somehow I’d accomplished exactly nothing.
I walked back through the compound, still furious. Same thing happening everywhere I went. Conversations dying the second I got close. Nobody hostile about it. Nobody warm either. Just quiet, watchful, like I’d walked into something everyone understood except me.
Caught pieces of the conversations before they cut off.
“it’s on her hand…”
“it accepted her…”
“after all these years…”
Turned toward the last group fast enough to catch their faces before they went blank. Two older women, both looking at anything but me the second I got within earshot.
Kept walking. Nobody offering anything else.
Found Marcus on a balcony near the far side, leaning against the railing, looking out over the valley like he’d been waiting there on purpose.
He didn’t acknowledge me at first just let me stand there a minute.
“Do you trust your father?”
That caught me off guard enough I answered too fast, no thought behind it. “Yes.”
Something in my chest hesitated. Heard myself not finish the sentence the way I meant to.
Marcus noticed. Of course he noticed.
“Good,” he said.
“Good?”
“Means you’re finally asking the right questions.”
He pushed off the railing and walked away before I could ask what that meant. Left me alone on that balcony with the valley spread out dark below and my own certainty about my father feeling a lot less solid than it had that morning.
Locked the door once I got back. Checked both windows. Searched the room again out of habit more than expectation. Found nothing new.
I wrapped a strip of cloth around the ring, tight, refused to look at it any longer than I had to. I told myself I wasn’t going to sleep. Well I told myself a lot of things.
Exhaustion won anyway.
Snow in the dream deep, untouched, stretching out under a moon bigger than any I’d seen hang in a real sky. Wolves howling somewhere far off, more than one voice tangled together.
Footsteps behind me. Turned and there was nothing there.
A voice instead. Calm. Familiar in a way I couldn’t place, like I’d heard it somewhere long before any of this started.
“You are late.”
Followed it through the trees without meaning to. Snow silent under feet that didn’t feel entirely my own. Came out at a gate built from stone taller than anything I’d ever seen, carvings pressed into the surface, shapes that meant nothing and everything at once.
Reached out toward it.
A hand closed over mine.
Same current shot up my arm. Hot and cold together. Violent enough to steal the air out of my lungs.
The gate began to open
Woke breathing hard, chest tight, sheets tangled around my legs.
Room dead silent. No wolves. No snow. No gate.
Then I saw the mud.
Fresh, wet, tracked in a clear path across the wooden floor. Starting at the balcony doors and ending at the edge of my bed.
No prints leading back the other way.
Something had stood there while I slept. Right beside me.
Looked toward the balcony fast, heart slamming. Doors still shut. Still locked from the inside, latch exactly where I’d left it.
Then I saw the paper.
Folded once, resting on the pillow beside my head. Close enough I could’ve touched it in my sleep without ever waking.
I picked it up. My hands wouldn’t stay steady.
One line, nothing else.
Stop looking for answers… or the next body will belong to someone you love.
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