CHAPTER 19: YOU’RE TOO SOFT, KIERAN

"That was what I complained about," Leia retorted. She placed her pointer finger on the center of his chest while not blinking. "You force me do things against my wishes. I want to work with Kieran, else I don’t want to," she stated.

"You wish to stay locked her than working with me," Lucien arched his brow, frustration rising in his tone.

"Yes. Then, if I get sick, you will bear the responsibility of it," Leia said, glaring at him.

Lucien lowered his head to look at her finger which she withdrew and turned to open the door. This time, she was pressed against the door, causing her breath to hitch, feeling his body heat.

"I told you not to play games with me. You think I don’t understand what you’ve in mind. If you get sick or feel low, then, it will be your responsibility. I gave you the opportunity to go out, but you are the one who declined it," he whispered right into her ear.

Lucien then took a step back and waited for her to leave.

Leia opened the door and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

He took a few steps back moving to the bed. He lay down there while keeping his hand over his forehead. The exhaustion took over him, and he finally fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Leia locked the door from inside and slid inside the blanket. "He will bully me if I work for him," she murmured. "I did right by declining his offer."

’But now, he will keep us locked here,’ Zei, her wolf, spoke. ’None of his brothers are going to stand for you. They are scared of him.’

’I seriously thought Kieran would stand against him. Well, I’ve yet to see Ronan’s side. He is a powerful warrior and leads mostly the battles. Since Lucien and he has small age gap, I believe Ronan can help me,’ she told her wolf.

’Hopefully, it happens,’ Zei replied before turning silent.

~~~~

Ronan took a long sip of the energy drink, hoping to restore his wolf’s strength. After finishing, he turned slightly and set the empty can on the bedside table.

"You’re not allowed to move," Kieran’s firm voice rang out as he entered the room, an envelope in hand.

"Don’t treat me like a child," Ronan replied with a dry chuckle.

"You act like all mighty all the time. The injury you got was grave. That’s why I’m concerned," Kieran said, keeping the envelope on the table. "The doctor has prescribed some medicines for the faster recovery," he asserted.

"Hmm. When will I be discharged?" Ronan questioned.

"The doctor hasn’t told about it yet," Kieran answered.

"Leia... Is she fine?" Ronan asked her out of the blue.

"Hmm. She’s resting at home. She saved your life. I hope you turn humble toward her," Kieran said.

"She didn’t ask anything in return," Ronan inquired.

"No. She didn’t ask for her freedom. It was a good chance for her to ask Lucien to set her free in exchange of the blood, but she didn’t do it," Kieran explained, silently admiring the kindness Leia carried.

"That’s... unexpected," Ronan murmured. "I thought she’d rather let me die."

Kieran frowned. "She’s not like us. While we keep her here for our own reasons, she doesn’t carry the kind of bitterness that would make her wish death on anyone."

Ronan let out a breath and stared at the ceiling. "I want to talk to her."

"Now?" Kieran asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm."

"I’ll ask the butler if she’s awake—"

"Never mind," Ronan interrupted. "I’ll wait until I’m discharged."

Kieran glanced at him before speaking quietly, "I just hope you don’t see her as someone to sire heirs. Leia is not a breeding machine."

"You’re speaking as if I was going to demand she give me a dozen children," Ronan muttered, placing a hand over his forehead. "Let’s not talk about that, Kieran."

Kieran exhaled slowly, then shifted topics. "Why did you go to the hill? And how did you end up getting attacked?"

Ronan’s gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, his jaw tightening. "I don’t want to talk about it," he said firmly. "You’re wasting your breath. I won’t say a word."

Kieran studied him for a moment, then leaned back in the chair, realizing Ronan had sealed that part of the conversation.

"I don’t like that the three of us have drifted so far apart," Kieran murmured with regret.

"And whose fault is that?" Ronan snapped. "Blame our parents, especially Dad." His voice tightened as old memories clawed their way to the surface of his head. He took a long breath, trying to keep his temper in check.

Kieran felt guilty to hear that statement. Ronan’s resentment wasn’t new, but hearing it aloud stung more than he expected. He knew deep down that his brother’s anger rooted by years of neglect and pain inflicted on him.

Their father had always looked at Ronan with disdain, never missing a chance to remind him that his birth had nearly cost their mother her life. Every hardship that befell the pack somehow circled back to Ronan. While Kieran was praised, Ronan bore the weight of suspicion and blame.

"I wish I could’ve switched places with you," Kieran said. He kept his gaze on his trembling fingers. "I didn’t choose this life. But I’ve always looked up to you, respected you... loved you as my older brother."

Ronan stared at him for a long moment. Then, his expression darkened with something like pity.

"You’re too soft, Kieran," he muttered. "You would’ve broken under the weight I had to carry. Not everyone survives being hated by the people who should’ve protected them."

He turned his face away, wanting to drop this conversation.

Kieran clasped his hands together, hoping for a better change. "You should sleep for some time," he said and walked out of the wardroom to take some fresh air.

Stopping at the open space at the walkway’s end, Kieran stopped and clenched his fists tightly.