Chapter 24
ELARA’S POV
(Day Of The Hunting Game)
The air buzzed with expectation, a tense mix of thrill and nerves. It was finally time for the Mountain Dew Pack’s yearly hunting games. My first time seeing one, and my excitement was electric.
Ronan, who as Alpha should’ve been on his throne overseeing everything, chose to participate for the first time ever. It was unprecedented, and the shock rippled through everyone. Marcelline stepped in, presiding from his seat. Today, she held it together—poised and steady, unlike her recent moods over the past weeks.
Honestly, that was on Ronan and me. We were the cause.
The vibe crackled with intensity; you could almost feel the scrape of claws honing and the thud of feet pounding the earth.
I perched on a rough wooden bench, my heart doing an odd flutter against my chest. Ronan’s wolf drew my gaze, and my stomach flipped at the mere connection. The butterflies weren’t just fluttering—they were hosting a full-blown party.
Oh gods—my face burned when his wolf winked, human-like and playful.
“You two aren’t even trying to hide it anymore, huh?” Clara’s playful voice yanked me back. She elbowed me lightly, and I turned to see her smirking knowingly.
My blush deepened. “Um,” I cleared my throat, “no clue what you mean.”
She huffed. “Sure. Whatever.” With an eye roll.
After our chat a few weeks back, I’d been putting in more effort—real effort—to show Ronan how I felt. That I truly cared, even if my emotions were a tangled mess I still wrestled with. But I knew I liked him, and I was done burying it. It scared me senseless. Kael’s betrayal loomed large, that dread of being manipulated and tossed aside like garbage lingered stubbornly.
But deep inside, I knew Ronan wasn’t like that. He’d stopped hiding his affection; even the smallest gestures shone through, wrapping around me like a warm blanket. By now, the whole pack probably sensed it. Marcelline wasn’t masking her resentment anymore either.
Yet, the unsaid stuff weighed between us. He hadn’t made it official, hadn’t asked me out. That gnawed at my joy. The doubt—was he ready for something real? It pressed on my thoughts. I wanted to bring it up, but I worried about seeming pushy… or scaring him off.
“Elara?” Martha’s shout snapped me to the present. She was flat in the mud, arms outstretched. “A hand here?”
“Oh, crap,” I muttered, feeling awkward. I jumped up and hurried over, grabbing her hand to haul her gently to her feet. “Looks like you took a spa day in the dirt.”
“Hilarious,” she laughed, glancing down at her ruined outfit with a sigh. “And this was fresh.” Her mouth turned down. “Heading back to the palace for a change.”
“Okay.” She nodded and headed off while I returned to my spot. Clara was already whooping… mostly for Silas, her crush. I wasn’t a fan of the guy, but she was beaming, so I backed her up. Plus, he seemed into her too, regardless of his grudge against me or whatever.
The games blurred into a frenzy of speed and strength. The crowd’s cheers were thunderous, invigorating. Massive, deadly werewolves charged across the terrain, a storm of fur and teeth. It was raw, stunning—a wild ritual of hunter and hunted.
I wondered which group would rack up the most kills… Ronan’s, no doubt.
My eyes fixed on his wolf—mighty, elegant, breathtaking. My own wolf did a joyful twirl every time our gazes met.
Yeah, he was unbeatable. They’d take it for sure.
“Round two complete!” the announcer bellowed. Ronan’s team had crushed it again, as expected.
“Break time! Third round in twenty minutes!”
As soon as the action halted, I ducked away to Ronan’s private tent. His guards stepped aside, letting me through. He’d shifted back to human, clad only in jeans. His toned muscles gleamed under tanned skin. My stare lingered too long.
Elara! my inner voice barked, reeling me in. Focus, not ogle.
“Hey,” I said, stepping closer.
“Finished looking?” he asked, his back still to me.
I rolled my eyes, playing it cool, but my body heat gave me away. Dying of shame here.
A faint smile curved his mouth as he tended a minor gash on his arm.
“Can I?” I offered.
“Please,” he said, dropping onto a wooden stool. I knelt by him, softly taking the cloth. I wiped the wound, then began bandaging it. “You’ve got to be more careful, Alpha,” I chided softly, but firmly, worry threading my words.
“It’s minor,” he shrugged, though a quiet grimace slipped out as I tugged the wrap snug.
“Oh really?” I raised a brow. “Seems pretty bad to me.”
“You’re overreacting—you pinched on purpose,” he grumbled.
I shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m still right.” I carefully released his arm once done. As I shifted to grab something, his free arm snaked out, drawing me back. He encircled my waist, tugging me near.
“Hm?” I hummed as he leaned his head against my chest. My fingers wove through his hair, and his tension melted at the touch. He lifted his gaze, those enigmatic eyes locking on mine.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Next round’s starting soon.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Good luck.”
He quirked a brow. “Just luck?” he asked.
“Ugh… you’ll crush it?” I snickered as his frown deepened. “Fine, fine!” I sighed, then leaned down, brushing a soft kiss on his nose. “Good luck—better?”
He grinned, tilting his head up, our eyes meeting. “Maybe.”
“Guys are insatiable,” I teased, pulling back. Over his shoulder, my gaze hit Marcelline at the tent’s entrance. Her face was pure wrath—you could almost see steam rising. Following my stare, Ronan’s expression soured when he spotted her.
“Elara,” she said, her voice trembling with a storm of hate, fury, sorrow… “Leave. Please.”