Ronan’s POV
Poisoned?
Ronan let out a short, disbelieving laugh as he walked down the corridor with Ash, his beta, beside him, a stack of papers crinkling in his grip.
His jaw clenched as he scanned the list of new arrivals, hunting for the name of the tribute who’d had the nerve to tell him he was poisoned.
Either she was fearless, or she had no idea who she was talking to.
He blew out a breath.
“I can’t believe they still do this.
Sending tributes in a box like cargo.
What exactly do they think I am?”
Ash didn’t answer, but Ronan could feel the tension coming off him.
They both hated this tradition, everyone did, but it wasn’t something he could just cancel.
Tributes were supposed to be treated as honored guests.
Instead, packs twisted the old laws to fit their own schemes.
Girls shackled.
Drugged.
Boxed up like cargo.
Delivered to Blackthorn like they were nothing but livestock.
Earlier that day, walking this same hallway, something outside the window had caught his attention.
He’d stopped at the balcony and looked down into the courtyard just as a wagon rolled to a stop below.
A large wooden crate sat on the back, tied down with thick rope.
He knew right away that whoever was trapped inside wasn’t a noble.
No noble family would ever send their precious daughter in a box like that.
Which meant some poor girl had been swapped in secretly, tossed aside by her own pack without her even knowing.
His hands curled into fists just remembering it.
He hated this.
Every single year, it was the same story.
Packs shipped tributes to him the exact same way his own mother had once been carried off and exiled.
Humiliated.
Terrified.
Treated like garbage.
He’d sworn once to end the whole tradition completely.
He never did.
Not after learning the truth about the noble houses, how they were the ones who truly deserved to suffer, not the girls hiding behind them, not the branded wolves sacrificed to protect precious bloodlines.
Still, the memory sat heavy in his chest.
He’d gone down himself to help whoever was trapped in that box, even though he had no reason to, and instead some omega girl had looked him dead in the eye and told him he was poisoned.
He glanced down at his hands.
Poisoned.
Ridiculous.
Impossible.
Nobody would dare poison him.
Nobody was reckless enough to try.
Every meal, every drink, every single ingredient got tested by the kitchen staff first.
Every herb was logged.
Every source verified.
Assassination attempts happened, sure, but never from inside his own walls.
He kept staring at his fingers.
The faint discoloration under his skin had been bugging him for days now, and he’d brushed it off as exhaustion.
He hadn’t slept much lately.
His body had been running purely on instinct and raw dominance.
But something about that omega’s voice had rattled him.
She hadn’t hesitated for a second.
She hadn’t guessed.
She’d known, instantly, tracking every detail on his fingers with a voice shaking from certainty.
He turned to Ash, who was still talking.
“Send for the pack doctor.”
Ash stopped mid-sentence and stared at him.
“Are you sick?
Do you feel something’s wrong?”
“No.
I’m fine.” Ronan shoved the papers back into Ash’s hands.
“I just need to confirm something.”
Ash didn’t push back.
He nodded once and hurried off down the hall.
Ronan headed for his study, pacing across the polished floor while he waited.
The windows overlooked the training grounds, the woods, the wide stretch of Blackthorn land beyond.
Usually that view calmed him down.
Today it just felt far away.
He flexed his fingers again, checking for anything that might prove poison.
If he really was poisoned, shouldn’t he be dying already?
Wasn’t that how it worked?
The door swung open.
The pack physician walked in, an older wolf with silver hair and steady hands.
“Alpha Ronan, Ash said to hurry.
What’s wrong?
Are you in pain?”
“I’m poisoned,” Ronan said flatly.
Both the physician and Ash, who’d returned to stand near the doorway, froze in place.
The physician blinked hard.
“You have to be joking.
There’s no way you’re poisoned.
Everything you eat gets inspected.
Every drink gets checked.
Every single kitchen worker is watched constantly.”
Ronan already knew all of that.
It didn’t make the feeling go away.
“Check,” he said, holding out his hand.
Ash let out a frustrated breath.
“Is this because of what that tribute said?
You’re not actually letting that get to you, are you?” He rolled his eyes.
Ronan ignored him completely, one eyebrow raised at the doctor.
The physician stepped closer, slower now.
“Alpha, I promise you, if you were poisoned, you’d already be showing symptoms.
Someone would have noticed by now.”
“Check,” Ronan repeated, his voice completely flat.
The physician sighed and gave in.
He took Ronan’s hand, turned it over, and examined the skin beneath the nails and across his palm.
His frown deepened as he leaned in closer.
Ash stepped forward, worry written across his face.
“Do you see something?” Ash asked.
The physician didn’t answer right away.
His eyes narrowed.
After a long moment, he extended one of his own claws with a quiet crack and sliced a thin cut along the side of Ronan’s index finger.
A small bead of blood rose to the surface.
He lifted the finger to his nose and sniffed.
His whole body went rigid.
He inhaled again, sharper this time, then jerked backward, his face going pale with shock.
“Alpha,” he whispered.
“You have traces of ashvine poison in your blood.”
Ash sucked in a sharp breath.
“What?
How?
Who would even dare?”
Ronan stayed still.
Calm.
Almost unnervingly calm.
“Not meant to kill me, then.
Not if I’m still standing.”
The physician swallowed hard.
“Ashvine.
It’s an old poison, used centuries ago against alphas.
It doesn’t kill fast.
Small doses aren’t lethal on their own, but repeated exposure, even in tiny amounts, weakens the wolf underneath.
It suppresses your immunity, dulls your senses, and slowly wears you down.
Enough of it built up, and an alpha could completely lose control of his shift.”
Ash stepped in front of Ronan, panic creeping into his voice.
“We’ll find the source right now.
The kitchens, the staff, the water, all of it.
We’ll question everyone involved.
I’ll have the guards tear apart the entire pack if I have to.”
Ronan lifted a hand, and Ash went quiet instantly.
The silence stretched out, heavy and tight.
Finally the physician asked, “How did you even find out?”
Ronan looked down at his hand again.
At the faint discoloration.
At the memory of a trembling omega girl gripping his fingers, whispering the word poison like she’d already known for certain.
“The tribute,” he muttered.
The doctor’s frown deepened.
“A tribute diagnosed you?”
Ash’s worry sharpened into suspicion fast.
“You believe her?
What if this is some trick, some plan from her pack?”
Ronan turned away and walked toward the door.
“She didn’t guess.
She knew immediately.
And if this was some plan from her pack, she just blew it wide open by warning me.”
Ash exhaled hard.
“Tributes are dangerous right now, Alpha.
Scared, emotional, unpredictable.
Her information could be completely wrong.
Or worse, someone sent her specifically as a distraction.”
“No,” Ronan said quietly.
“She noticed something none of you did.”
That shut both Ash and the physician up.
Ronan grabbed his cloak off the hook by the door and threw it over his shoulders.
Ash hurried after him.
“Ronan, going to see the tributes right now isn’t smart.
The women are already terrified.
The guards can barely keep them calm.
Showing up will only cause a scene.”
“I’m not asking for permission.”
Ash tried once more.
“If you want her brought to you, I can send someone to get her.
You don’t have to go there yourself.”
Ronan turned his head slowly, eyes sharp and final.
“I want to see her myself.
Where are they being held?”
His tone left absolutely no room for arguing.
Ash hesitated a second longer, then let out a breath.
“South hall.
They’re lined up for inspection.”
Ronan nodded once and walked out, his footsteps echoing hard against the stone corridors.
Warriors snapped to attention as he passed.
Servants flattened themselves against the walls.
Every wolf in his path lowered their eyes.
Dominance rolled off him in waves, fueled by irritation, suspicion, and something else he didn’t quite want to name.
Someone had actually dared to poison him.
Cold night air hit him as he stepped outside, heading straight for the south hall with one single thought driving him forward.
He could hear the tributes before he even reached the door.
Quiet crying.
Uneven breathing.
Feet shifting nervously against stone.
The two guards at the entrance stepped aside the moment they spotted him, and Ronan walked into the hall.
The room went dead silent instantly.
Every woman dropped to her knees or lowered her gaze.
His presence alone filled the entire space.
He scanned the room once.
Then he found her.
She was on the ground, held down by two gammas, tears welling in her eyes.
It was obvious she’d already been marked for death.
Whoever had sent an omega as a tribute clearly meant for her to die.
Her eyes lifted and locked onto his.
Something unfamiliar rolled through his entire body, something he didn’t have a word for.
But his decision was already made.
She had saved his life without even knowing it.
Now he intended to find out why.