Ronan

Chapter Nineteen

They were making fast and rapid progress on the raid on Rosa's mind. It'd been months since she'd been taken from the heavens. She'd fallen back into a routine in Triumph too easily, but that didn't stop the dread from piling up.

Rosa couldn't remember exactly what part in her life she'd come by the knowledge of the prophecy, but she knew they were getting closer. At this rate, she knew it wouldn't be long till he found it.

What did that mean for the allies?

Rosa didn't care for most of them. But she cared for Meg. She'd do anything she could to keep her sister out of harm's way. With this in mind, she visited the dungeons as often as she could.

The more she learnt, the more she worried.

Ronan was picking specific immortals and planning specific attacks.

She'd decided Fenrir had to be a spanner in the works for the werewolves, probably aiming to take his revenge on their wives. Raya was doubtlessly there to throw Annaliese off her A game, though she still wouldn't reveal the terms of her deal with Ronan.

Her other discoveries had been just as worrying.

In one cell, she'd met the despairing King Viktor who cried for his deceased wife. Rosa hadn't been able to find her in the cells, which meant his wife hadn't been brought back to life with him. His name hadn't rung any bells for Rosa but Raya seemed to know who he was. He was a vampire King who'd taken a witch for his wife. Rosa had put two and two together for herself from there—that must've been Nazreen's Dad. In another cell was a God who hadn't been eager to talk, but based on the discomfort of the dead Amazons, she figured he must've been there to fuck with them somehow. Empty cells were appearing amongst the taken ones, though the number of prisoners never depleted. In other words, Ronan was preparing for more inmates.

Guessing who they could be kept her awake at night.

And then there was that door.

The door with the unimaginable heat coming from the other side.

She'd promised Ronan she wouldn't open it—but that didn't stop it from playing on her mind.

In her memories, they'd made it out of their time in the forest and through her introduction to the Common World. They'd reached the loneliest days of Rosa's life. The days she wanted to see Ronan's reaction to the most.

She'd been overly analytical to his reactions when she'd first found the truth. When she learnt his name wasn't Warner at all. That he was Ronan—the cloaked man from the heavens who'd known more than he let on. Rosa in the past didn't push him away like she should've. She had no one else. She knew no one else. And so she'd clung to him instead.

His face hadn't revealed much as they relived her memory of Morio. The kind, friendly demon who'd welcomed her into the pub and offered her a job only for Ronan to kill him. Ruthlessly, might she add. They'd been sharing cream tea when the warlock arrived, splattering her scones in demon blood.

His explanation?

You can do better.

And so she'd remained friendless and lonely for much of her life. All of which he'd now seen with his own private screening.

In her seat with the chains fixed across her and the wires feeding into her body, she mused aloud. "Sometimes I wish that I'd never met you."

For the briefest of moments, the warlock's posture stiffened. "Thanks Rosie."

"I'm not saying that to hurt you. I just thought... well, maybe if I made a show of being emotionally honest with you, it'd be easier when you do it with me." He still struggled with that—but he'd been getting better. He was trying to be open with her. Honest. "I know that's wishful thinking. Sometimes I sit and think about what my life would've been like if you had never been in it. I think I'd be dead now."