Chapter 11 CHAPTER 11

Chapter 11 CHAPTER 11
Ryan’s POV
We're walking through the castle hallways, and I can feel Ophelia looking at me.
She keeps doing that. Glancing over. Like she wants to say something but isn't sure how.
I stare straight ahead. The stone walls. The torches. Anything but her.
"So," she finally says. "What really happened back there?"
I don't answer.
"Ryan?"
I keep walking.
"Come on. I know Tom's an asshole, but you totally dumped water on him, didn't you?"
My jaw tightens.
She moves in front of me, forcing me to stop. "Did you?"
I look at her. Then nod once.
"Ha!" She grins. "I knew it. Good. He deserved it."
Wait. What?
I stare at her. That's not—she's supposed to be mad. Supposed to tell me I was wrong. That I can't go around dumping water on people.
That's what everyone else would say.
But she's smiling. Actually smiling.
"Look," she says, crossing her arms. "If someone's being a jerk to you, you've gotta stand up for yourself. Can't just let people push you around, you know?"
My throat feels tight.
"I mean, sure, maybe don't start fights all the time," she continues. "But Tom? Yeah, he totally had it coming. I've been wanting to do something about him for weeks."
She means it. I can tell by her face. She's not lying or trying to make me feel better.
She actually thinks what I did was okay.
"Just—" She tilts her head. "Try not to get caught next time? Makes my life easier."
"It was bad water," I say quietly.
"Huh?"
"The water. It was sitting for days. Probably rotten by now."
Her eyes go wide. Then she starts laughing. Like, really laughing. "Oh my god. So Tom's gonna smell like garbage for days?"
I nod.
"That's amazing!" She's grinning so hard. "Absolutely perfect. He deserves way worse, honestly."
Something weird happens in my chest. Like it's loosening. Just a little.
"Hey." She steps closer. "Look, I don't care what you did to Tom. He's been bullying people since forever. Someone needed to teach him a lesson."
"You're not mad?"
"Mad? Why would I be mad?" She shakes her head. "Ryan, listen. As long as you're not hurting innocent people or doing genuinely horrible stuff, you're fine. Got it?"
I stare at her.
"I believe you're a good person, Ryan."
She says it slowly. Clearly. Looking right at me.
Like she means every word.
You didn't do anything wrong.
That's what she's saying. That's what she means.
I can't breathe.
When was the last time someone said that to me?
My mind goes blank. Then—
Blood. So much blood.
Mom's on the ground. Her chest isn't moving anymore.
I'm seven years old and I can't stop shaking.
Father stands over her body. His claws are still out. Still dripping.
"She was a traitor," he says. Cold. Flat.
But I saw what happened. I saw him attack Dustvalley Pack. Saw him kill them all.
Saw him kill Mom's parents.
And when Mom tried to stop him—
She reaches for me. Her hand shaking.
"Ryan—"
But I can't move. Warriors are holding me back.
"You have his eyes," she whispers. Blood on her lips.
I don't understand. What does that mean?
"You're his son."
"Mom, please—"
"How can I not see him when I look at you?"
Her hand drops.
And she's gone.
After that, everything changed.
Father looked at me different. Like I reminded him of something he wanted to forget.
The pack followed his lead. They always did.
Suddenly I was the problem. The mistake. The thing that shouldn't exist. Missing meals. Extra training. Letting the other kids push me around.
Then Quinn came.
Father's new mate. She smiled at me once, all teeth and no warmth.
"You look just like her," she said.
I didn't know if she meant it as an insult or a threat.
Turned out it was both.
The pack got worse. Nobody defended me anymore. When kids picked fights, the adults looked away.
When I came back bloody and bruised, Father just sent me to my room.
"You need to be stronger," he said once. "Weakness gets you killed."
But I wasn't weak. I was just—
Alone.
Every time someone hit me, I thought about Mom's face. Her last words.
"How can I not see him when I look at you?"
She blamed me. I know she did.
Looking at me reminded her of Father. Of what he'd done.
And that pain—that was my fault.
If I didn't exist, she wouldn't have suffered.
If I wasn't his son—
"Hey, Ryan? You okay?"
I blink.
Ophelia's staring at me. Her face is worried.
"You zoned out for a second there," she says.
I'm back in the hallway. The stone walls. The torches.
Not in that memory. Not in that blood.
"I'm fine," I manage.
She doesn't look convinced. "You sure? You looked—"
"I'm fine."
She watches me for another second. Then nods. "Okay. Well, we should probably get you to work, yeah? Dad's rules. Gotta earn your keep and all that."
Her voice is light. Easy. Like nothing's wrong.





Ophelia’s POV
I pulled Ryan toward the dining hall. He didn't resist. Just followed along quietly.
The dining hall was mostly empty now, the breakfast rush over. I sat Ryan down at a table and went to grab food.
When I came back with two plates piled high with bread, eggs, and bacon, he was staring at the table like he'd never seen one before.
"Eat," I commanded, pushing a plate toward him.
He picked up a piece of bread slowly, like he was waiting for someone to snatch it away.
"Nobody's gonna take it from you," I said softly. "It's yours."
He took a bite. Then another. Then he was eating like he hadn't seen food in weeks.
Which, knowing his situation, he probably hadn't.
I ate my own breakfast and watched him. He was so skinny. All sharp angles and hollow cheeks. How long had he been surviving on scraps?
"Slow down," I said gently. "You're gonna make yourself sick."
He ignored me and kept eating.
Five minutes later, his plate was empty and he was eyeing mine.
"Here." I pushed my plate toward him. "I'm not that hungry anyway."
He hesitated.
"Take it," I insisted. "Seriously."
He pulled the plate closer and started eating again, slower this time.
I propped my chin on my hand and just watched him. In the morning light streaming through the windows, I could see more details. The dirt still under his fingernails. The way his hair stuck up in places. The small scar on his jaw.
"What?" he said suddenly, catching me staring.
"Nothing. Just thinking."
"About what?"
"About how you're gonna put on some actual weight if I have anything to say about it." I grinned. "Consider it my new mission. Operation Feed Ryan."
His ears turned red. "That's a stupid mission name."
"You got a better one?"
"No."
"Then Operation Feed Ryan it is!"
He shook his head but I saw that almost-smile again.
When he finished eating, I stood up. "Okay, now let's go find you a proper job."
"I was thinking patrol work. You'd be good at that."
We headed across the courtyard toward the training yard. I could see Jovie in the distance, overseeing some warriors doing drills.
"So here's the deal," I said as we walked. "You'll be working as a patrol scout assistant. That means you'll be learning the territory, practicing tracking, identifying threats before they become problems."
"Sounds complicated."
"It's not, really. You'll be with experienced warriors. They'll teach you everything." I glanced at him. "And honestly? I think you'll be good at it. You survived on your own for who knows how long. That takes serious skills."
He didn't respond, but his shoulders relaxed a little.
"Jovie!" I called out as we got closer to the training yard.
She turned, saw me with Ryan, and her expression immediately shifted to cautious. She jogged over, wiping sweat from her forehead.
"Miss Ophelia," she said, then looked at Ryan. "Ryan."
"Hey!" I said brightly. "So I need your help with something."
Jovie crossed her arms. "Okay..."
"I want Ryan to work as a patrol scout assistant. Can you set that up?"
She blinked. "You want him to do patrol work?"
"Yeah. He'd be perfect for it."
"Miss Ophelia, he just got here. And after what happened this morning—"
"Which wasn't his fault," I interrupted. "Tom was bullying him. Ryan just defended himself."
Jovie's jaw tightened. "That's one way to look at it."
"It's the right way to look at it." I stepped closer to her. "Look, I know you're worried. But I really think this will work. Patrol scouts need good instincts and sharp senses. Ryan has both."
"He's got something, alright," Jovie muttered.
"Please?" I gave her my best pleading look. "For me?"
She sighed heavily and looked at Ryan. He stared back at her, his face completely blank.
The silence stretched for a long moment.
"Fine," Jovie said finally. "I'll talk to Nolan. He leads the patrol teams. See if he's willing to take on an assistant."
"Thank you!" I grabbed her hands. "You're the best!"
"Yeah, yeah." She pulled her hands free. "But I'm keeping an eye on him. One wrong move—"
"There won't be any wrong moves. Right, Ryan?"
Ryan nodded once. "Right."
Jovie didn't look convinced, but she didn't argue. "I'll find Nolan and let you know what he says. Shouldn't take long."
"Awesome!" I beamed at her.
She walked off, throwing one last suspicious look at Ryan over her shoulder.
"She doesn't trust me," Ryan said quietly once she was gone.
"She doesn't trust anyone," I corrected. "It's literally her job to be paranoid. Don't take it personally."
"Hard not to."
"Well, don't." I bumped his shoulder with mine. "You're gonna prove everyone wrong. I know it."
He looked at me with those green eyes, and I saw something flicker in them.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked.