Chapter 135: Chapter 135: Nightmare and Eye for an Eye
SONIA’S POV
I couldn’t tell him about the dream.
That his heart was missing. It would usually signify death.
The memory still clung to me like smoke after a fire, choking, impossible to ignore. In that unconscious haze, I had seen Ramon’s chest torn open, a gaping void where his heart should have been.
Blood pooled dark and glistening on the ground beneath him, and the full moon hung overhead like a silent witness to death. In the old stories my mother used to whisper, a missing heart in a dream almost always meant the end. Death. Loss. The kind that left nothing behind but echoes.
How could I tell him I had dreamt of him dying without sounding like I was somehow involved? Like I was wishing it, or worse, planning it? He already distrusted me.
Every fragile moment between us had been built on the shaky foundation of the mate bond, not choice. To think otherwise was to become delusional, to let my foolish heart believe there could be something real in the ashes of his hatred.
"I’m not hiding anything from you," I lied, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.
I had never been a good liar. The day Seth was caught sneaking me out of my room back home, it was my fumbling, stuttering attempt at deception that gave us away. My father had seen right through me, just as Ramon seemed to now.
"You’re lying to me." His voice was low, dangerous, each word measured like a blade. "Don’t take me for a fool, Sonia. It would be a very big mistake on your part."
I couldn’t stop the small smile that curved my lips, soft and bittersweet. When he shot me a curious, almost wary gaze, my smile only widened, a fragile shield against the storm building between us.
"How can I take you for a fool?" I asked gently. "I think it’s safe to say that so far, I’ve learnt a thing or two."
"Sonia, why do you have to make things so difficult?" He sighed heavily, and for the first time I truly saw the exhaustion etched into his features, the faint shadows under his eyes, the tightness in his jaw, the way his broad shoulders seemed to carry the weight of an entire pack.
"When was the last time you had a genuine sleep?" I asked, shifting closer on the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under my movement, and the faint scent of him.
He eyed me casually, but I caught the flicker of surprise in those dark eyes. "Why do you ask?"
"You look tired." The words slipped out soft, almost tender. I reached out before I could think better of it, my fingers grazing the delicate skin beneath his eyes.
They were warm, slightly shadowed, carrying the toll of sleepless nights and endless burdens. "They say the eyes are the windows to one’s soul. I don’t believe that saying applies to you."
He chuckled, the sound low and rough, vibrating through the small space between us. "Why’s that?"
"You’re not an open book. I think you take pride in not being one." My fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, tracing the faint lines of fatigue before I pulled back, my skin tingling from the brief contact.
I studied his eyes a little closer, and genuine concern tightened in my chest. He was going to get terribly sick if he didn’t rest. The strong alpha who commanded fear and respect was running on fumes, pushing himself beyond what even his powerful body could sustain.
"Take out some time to rest," I urged quietly. "I know you’re doing everything right as a pack leader, but sometimes, you need to take care of your health too."
"Does your father take care of his?" He retorted sharply, and I went tongue-tied, the words dying in my throat.
There was no right way to answer that question. Not without reopening old wounds or sounding like I was defending the man who had caused so much pain here.
"Answer me, Sonia," he pressed, his voice carrying that familiar edge of command.
"I already gave you a preamble of my relationship with my father," I said carefully, choosing each word like stepping on thin ice. "He loves me deeply, but we don’t share that much of a bond."
"I don’t believe you," he said flatly, and moved away from me on the bed.
"That’s alright," I replied softly, already missing the warmth of his body heat. The space between us felt colder, emptier.
I wondered how long we could continue to dance around the heat, the invisible wave pulling us together like the tide to the moon. If I were to place a bet, I would say Ramon would rather lose his head than give in to the force of the full moon.
Maybe because the second he did, we would be bonded in truth, and for life. The thought sent a shiver through me, equal parts terror and forbidden longing.
"Alright?" He raised a brow, studying me with those piercing eyes.
"You don’t have to believe me about anything related to my father. But I know you believe me—no, you have to believe me about your health. Even the strongest of men requires rest."
He didn’t respond, so I used the heavy silence to scan his room with my eyes. I wanted to know what he was truly like, and the best way was to look at the things he surrounded himself with.
His bed was always neatly dressed, the sheets pulled taut with military precision. His table held everything properly arranged, papers stacked, ink pots aligned, not a single thing out of place.
The closet remained closed until there was something specific to retrieve. Even the walls and floors held no stains, no clutter, no trace of chaos.
He was a pristine, cautious man. Orderly to his core, and he liked his world to reflect that control.
I felt his eyes on me again and lifted my head to return his gaze. Our eyes locked for a few long seconds, heavy with unspoken questions. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me—an enemy’s daughter? A burden? Or something dangerously closer to a mate?
"Your father made a choice," he suddenly spoke, breaking the silence.
"You heard from my father?!" My eyes bulged with shock, heart slamming against my ribs.
It was beginning to make sense now, his earlier reaction, the tension coiling in his muscles. Whatever message my father had sent, he must think I had something to do with it.
"I did," he confirmed, his voice darkening. "He sent a man into my pack. I still don’t know how he managed it. Of course, before I could pry that information from him, he bit his own tongue and died in front of me."
I went still with apprehension, the horror of it settling cold in my stomach. That sounded exactly like an instruction my father would give, ruthless, calculated, leaving no loose ends. I wasn’t blind to what he was capable of. Quite the contrary. I had grown up hearing how he did terrible things for the "greater good," for the protection of those he held dearest.
But how could allowing a man to kill himself after delivering a message be for anything other than a selfish, vengeful reason?
"You have nothing to say to that?" Ramon pressed, watching me like a predator.
"I said a prayer for the poor man in my heart," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "No one should have to die in place of anyone."
He laughed, a short, bitter sound filled with resentment that made my skin prickle. "You would make a fine politician. Always know the right thing to say. Never stepping out of character. You know, I used to think you were just such a good actress. But I’m wondering... perhaps you have multiple personalities? But wouldn’t that also be a form of acting?"
He shook his head, and I felt a pang of pity for him, not because he was pitiable, but because I could tell he was struggling, torn between the man the mate bond was awakening and the alpha forged in vengeance.
"What message did my father send?" I asked, bracing myself.
His eyes reddened with barely contained fury as he stared piercingly at me. "An eye for an eye," he replied.
"What does that mean?" This time, I was the confused one, my stomach twisting.
"It means someone dear to me is going to be in trouble. I took his daughter... he takes something dear to me."
"Ivy?" I blurted out. The name escaped before I could stop it, the first and only one that popped into my head.
And by the brief, telling flicker in his eyes, there and gone in a split second—I knew I was right.
