Chapter 2

"Try asking nicely."

The nearest recruits went silent.

Ronin glanced at the red strip of cloth tied around my neck. It covered the bite from last night's masked brute. It did nothing for the heat burning underneath.

"You think this is a negotiation?"

"No. I think you like hearing yourself threaten people."

A few inmates snorted. One of them, Sella, covered her mouth too late.

Ronin's gaze moved to her. "You. Five laps."

Her smile vanished. "Commander, I didn't—"

"Ten."

Sella took off.

I watched her run past the iron gates, then looked back at him. "That was mature. Punish everyone when one person talks."

"You volunteered an opinion."

"You volunteered the performance."

His jaw tightened. Good. I needed something that belonged to me.

The yard was packed with Frostwatch inmates and low-ranking cadets. They had all heard what happened in the underground pit. They had all seen the masked fighter drag me into the dirt, bite my neck, and shove me away like I was poison.

Rejected. Claimed. Rejected again.

The word had followed me through the gates before breakfast.

Ronin lifted his chin. "Strip off the scarf."

My fingers closed around the cloth. "No."

"That wasn't a request."

"Then write me up for disobeying a commander."

His mouth barely moved. "Gladly."

He stepped closer.

The crowd leaned in with him.

His boots stopped between mine. His body blocked the weak sun, and the heat coming off his coat touched my face. Cedar, steel, and something sharper beneath it. My wolf knew that scent. It had known it before his face was revealed.

Mine.

The bond twisted under my skin.

I swallowed the reaction and stared at the scar over his brow. "You're enjoying this."

"I enjoy finding weaknesses before they get people killed."

"Then look somewhere else."

"Move the scarf."

"Make me."

The words had barely left my mouth when his hand closed around the back of my neck.

His palm was cold through my collar. Not gentle. Not crushing either. Just enough pressure to remind me how easily he could put me on my knees in front of everyone.

The mark pulsed beneath the cloth.

Ronin felt it.

His eyes dropped to my throat. "Still pretending there isn't a fresh mate wound under there?"

A murmur rolled through the yard.

I caught his wrist. The muscle under my fingers was solid as iron. "Still pretending you didn't put it there?"

That landed harder.

His stare snapped back to mine.

"Careful," he said.

"Why? You'll reject me in front of your little audience?"

A cadet laughed near the weapons rack.

Ronin didn't look away from me. "You think rejection is a joke?"

"No. I think you made it one."

His thumb slid up the side of my neck. It stopped over the raw edge of the bite, hidden beneath the scarf.

Pain flashed white behind my eyes.

I bit down on it.

Ronin's thumb pressed harder.

My knees almost buckled.

The yard blurred around his shoulder. The bond pulled through my ribs, hot and vicious, begging me to lean into him. My wolf scraped at my skin, desperate for the hand that had hurt us.

No. Absolutely not.

"Stand straight," he murmured.

"Get your hand off me."

"You want the crowd to know how weak you are?"

"The crowd already knows you're a coward."

His thumb dug into the wound.

A sharp sound escaped me before I could stop it.

Someone whispered, "She's going down."

I drove my heel into Ronin's boot.

He didn't flinch, but his grip shifted. I used the opening to twist his wrist and slam my elbow toward his ribs.

He caught my arm before it landed.

"Better," he said.

"Go to hell."

"Already spent time there."

He turned my arm behind my back. The move forced my chest forward and pressed my shoulder blade against him. His body lined up with mine, close enough that his breath touched the shell of my ear.

The bond surged.

My fingers curled into fists.

"Let go," I said.

"Break the hold."

"You know I can't with half the yard watching."

"Then you've learned the first field rule."

"Which is?"

"Never let your enemy choose the place you fight."

His mouth was close to my ear. Too close. His voice slipped under my skin, rough and low, and the mark answered with another hot pulse.

I turned my head as far as his grip allowed. "Funny. You dragged me here, picked the audience, and put your hands on me first. Sounds like you're the enemy choosing everything."

"I'm your commander."

"That's not better."

He released my arm.

I spun and threw a punch.

Ronin ducked. My fist cut past his jaw. Before I could recover, he hooked my ankle and swept my legs out.

I hit the dirt hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.

The yard erupted.

"Again," he ordered.

I rolled before his boot could pin my shoulder. "You want a rematch?"

"I want you standing."

"Then stop throwing me down."

"Stop making it easy."

I pushed up, dirt grinding into my palms. The collar around my neck buzzed.

Not the normal warning buzz.

This was hotter. Deeper. The metal tightened against my throat as the mate mark flared underneath it.

I clamped one hand over the collar.

Ronin saw.

His eyes narrowed. "Do not touch the restraint."

"It burns."

"Good."

"You call that good?"

"Pain keeps inmates from testing the limits."

"No. Your sad little torture toy keeps inmates from breathing."

"You were sentenced for treason, not comfort."

The word hit the yard like a thrown stone.

Treason.

No one asked what I had done. They had already chosen the answer. Rebel blood. Storm blood. Guilty before trial.

I wiped dirt from my mouth. "Say it louder. Maybe your superiors will hear you accuse me without evidence."

His expression went flat. "You signed the intake record."

"I signed because your guards had a blade under my jaw."

"You could have refused."

"And died with a clean conscience? How noble."

Ronin's gaze flicked over my face. For half a second, something in him went still—not soft. Alert.

I caught it.

"What?" I asked. "Did I hit a nerve?"

"You talk too much."

"You listen too closely."

The collar buzzed again.

My knees dipped.

Ronin caught my elbow before I fell. His fingers closed around the bare skin above my glove. Heat from his hand traveled straight into the mark.

I sucked in a breath.

His grip tightened.

"Breathe," he said.

"Don't order me around."

"Breathe, Vira."

The use of my name made the pull worse.

I hated that he noticed. I hated more that his thumb rubbed once over my pulse before he let go.

"Why is the collar reacting?" I demanded.

"You know why."

"I know your blade cut me last night."

"My blade didn't bite your neck."

The crowd shifted.

Ronin turned away from me and pointed to the rack of training weapons. "Take a blade."

I walked toward it, refusing to show the tremor in my legs.

Sella had returned from her laps. Sweat darkened her shirt, and she looked furious enough to bite through iron. She leaned toward the inmate beside her and whispered something.

Ronin's head turned. "You have a comment, Damon?"

Sella froze. "No, Commander."

"You were looking at Vira's throat."

"Everyone is."

A few heads dropped.

Sella's eyes flashed. "She brought the mark here. Don't blame us for seeing it."

The collar buzzed again.

My vision tilted.

Ronin's hand landed on my shoulder before I hit the weapon rack. His fingers dug into the muscle, holding me upright while the mark throbbed against the metal.

"Sella," he said, "come here."

She didn't move.

"Now."

She approached with careful steps.

Ronin kept his hand on me. The contact was humiliating. It was also the only thing keeping my knees locked.

Sella stopped in front of us. "Commander?"

"Tell the yard what you saw in the pit."

Her mouth tightened. "Why?"

"Because you wanted everyone to hear it."

Sella looked at me. "The masked fighter claimed her."

The collar burned.

"Keep going," Ronin said.

"He bit her. She fought him. Then he rejected her in the dirt."

A few recruits laughed.

My hand closed around the nearest blade.

Ronin's grip shifted from my shoulder to my upper arm. "You will not draw that."

"Then stop inviting them to talk."

Sella's smile sharpened. "She thought he wanted her. Then he shoved her away. Must've hurt."

"You done?" I asked.

"Not even close."

"Try me."

Sella took one step nearer. "What does it feel like? Having your mate reject you before he even knows your name?"

My wolf pushed forward.

The mark flared so hard my fingers went numb around the blade.

Ronin felt me tense. His arm locked around mine, pulling me back against his chest.

His mouth came beside my ear again.

"Do not shift."

"Then remove your hand."

"You lose control, the collar tightens."

"You put the collar on me."

"You earned it."

"Did I earn your bite too?"

His breath stopped.

There it was.

The first crack.

I turned my face toward him, close enough to see the small white line at the corner of his mouth. "You keep acting like you're above the pit. But you know exactly how that fighter moved. You know exactly where he touched me."

Ronin's eyes dropped to my lips, then returned to mine.

"Careful," he said again, but the warning had changed. Less command. More restraint.

I smiled without warmth. "That all you've got?"

His hand slid from my arm to the back of my neck.

He pulled the scarf loose.

The yard saw the wound.

Two dark punctures marked the side of my throat, surrounded by bruised skin. The edges were red and wet, as if the bite had happened minutes ago instead of hours.

The laughter stopped.

Sella stared. "That's not a normal mate mark."

"No," Ronin said. "It isn't."

I grabbed the scarf from his hand. "Put it back."

"Why hide it?"

"Because I'm not a display animal."

"You are an inmate on inspection."

"I'm a person."

His gaze held mine. "Prove it."

I hated the command. I hated the way my body answered him before my pride could stop it.

I raised the blade.

Ronin drew his own.

His weapon was narrow and black, its edge bright under the yard lamps. He didn't point it at my chest. He set the flat of the blade beneath my chin and lifted my face.

The cold metal touched my skin.

The entire yard watched.

"Field rule two," he said. "Never hide an injury from the person responsible for keeping you alive."

"You aren't keeping me alive. You're waiting for an excuse to put me down."

"If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing."

"Maybe you missed."

The blade slid lower, under the edge of my collar.

The metal scraped the wound.

My breath broke.

Ronin's free hand caught my jaw. His thumb pressed directly into the raw bite while the blade pushed the collar aside.

Pain shot through my neck.

My knees buckled.

He held me upright against him.

"There," he murmured. "Now the yard can see what you keep pretending isn't there."

"Get your thumb off me."

"Say please."

I laughed, though it came out thin. "I'd rather bleed."

"You might."

"Then why are you holding me?"

His thumb stopped moving.

The bond snapped tight between us. I felt his pulse under my palm where I had grabbed his wrist. Fast. Not calm. Not untouched.

I stared at him. "You're feeling it too."

His eyes went cold. "Feeling what?"

"The mark. The pull. Whatever lie you're calling it."

"There is no pull."

"Then let go."

He didn't.

I leaned into the blade until its edge kissed my skin. "Let go, Commander. If there is no pull, you won't be afraid of what happens when you do."

The crowd held its breath.

Ronin's jaw worked once.

Then he shoved me away.

I stumbled back three steps. The collar gave a vicious buzz, and I dropped to one knee.

Laughter burst from the far line.

Ronin turned on them. "Anyone who laughs takes her place."

The yard died again.

I pushed myself upright, one hand pressed to my throat. "How noble. Saving me from embarrassment after causing it."

"You're still talking."

"You're still listening."

He sheathed his blade. "Choose your weapon."

I picked a short training knife.

Ronin pointed to the center ring. "With me."

"In front of everyone?"

"You wanted a public answer."

"I wanted you to stop touching me."

"You don't get what you want here."

He walked into the ring.

I followed.

The recruits formed a circle around us, boots scraping over packed dirt. Sella took a place in the front row. She looked pleased now, like my humiliation had become her entertainment.

Ronin raised both hands. "Rules are simple. No shifting. No strikes to the throat. No leaving the ring."

"And if I break them?"

"The collar decides."

"You mean you decide."

"Try me."

He moved first.

His fist came fast. I ducked and cut for his ribs. He blocked with his forearm, caught my wrist, and twisted.

I drove my knee toward his thigh.

He turned, taking the blow along the outside of his leg. His grip tightened, and he pulled me against him.

My back hit his chest.

His arm locked around my waist.

The mate mark burned through the collar.

"Release me," I said.

"Break free."

"You're enjoying the excuse to hold me."

His mouth brushed near my temple when he spoke. "You keep giving me excuses."

I slammed my head backward.

He shifted just in time. My skull caught his cheek instead of his nose.

His hold loosened.

I twisted out, drove my elbow into his stomach, and swept his leg.

This time he hit the dirt.

The yard exploded with shouts.

I stood over him, breathing hard. "Still think I'm easy?"

Ronin looked up at me.

For the first time, his control slipped enough for me to see the heat in his eyes.

"No," he said. "I think you're reckless."

"That sounds like fear."

"It sounds like a warning."

"You should make better ones."

He caught my ankle.

I went down hard. Before I could roll, he was over me, one knee planted beside my hip, both wrists trapped above my head.

His weight pinned me without crushing me. That almost made it worse.

His face hovered inches from mine. His breath warmed my mouth. Dirt clung to his cheek from where I had put him down.

"Get off," I said.

"Admit the hold."

"Go choke."

"Admit it."

"You need me to say you won?"

"I need you to understand that strength won't save you from every consequence."

"And you think pressing me into the dirt teaches that?"

"You're paying attention."

His thumb rubbed over the inside of my wrist.

The bond pulled again.

His gaze dropped to my mouth.

Mine followed the tiny movement before I could stop it.

The yard disappeared for one sharp second. There was only his weight, his breath, and the rough fabric of his sleeve brushing my skin.

Then I remembered his voice in the pit.

Not mine.

Never mine.

I jerked my knee up.

Ronin caught it between his legs and leaned closer. "Don't."

"You scared?"

"No."

"Liar."

His nose almost touched mine. "Keep testing me and you'll find out how little mercy I have left."

"You had mercy?"

"For everyone except you."

The words came out too fast.

His eyes changed.

So did mine.

I used the pause to wrench one hand free and drag my knife from my belt. The blade stopped beneath his jaw.

The crowd gasped.

Ronin went still over me.

"Move," I whispered, "and I open your throat."

His gaze dropped to the knife, then returned to my face. "You won't."

"Want to bet?"

"Your hand is shaking."

"Your pulse is racing."

That made him pause.

I pressed the knife closer. "Maybe the collar isn't the only thing reacting."

His eyes turned vicious.

He knocked the knife from my hand with one brutal strike and caught both my wrists again. The blade flew across the dirt.

"Enough," he said.

"Scared of the truth?"

"I'm done entertaining you."

He hauled me upright and shoved me toward the weapons rack.

I caught myself against the wood. "You mean you can't control the little show anymore."

Ronin stepped in until my back touched the rack. He placed one hand beside my head and leaned close.

"You think this is a game because you survived one night in a pit."

"I think you hate that I survived it."

"You don't know what I hate."

"I know you keep touching the bite and pretending it means nothing."

His face hardened.

I lowered my voice. "I know you felt the mark before you ever dropped that mask."

The yard was too loud for anyone else to hear. Ronin heard every word.

His fingers closed around my collar.

"One more word about the pit," he said, "and you spend the next week in restraints."

"One more touch and I tell the whole yard you were the masked fighter."

His grip stopped.

There.

I had him.

Not much. Just one secret. But it belonged to him, and he guarded it like a wound.

"You don't know that," he said.

"Your blade does. Same black steel. Same grip. Same scar on your wrist."

His eyes flicked to my hand.

I had seen it last night when the mask slipped. A thin pale line under his glove.

"You saw nothing," he said.

"Then why are you worried?"

His fingers tightened against my collar. The metal buzzed under his palm.

The mark answered.

Heat ran up my throat and into my jaw.

Ronin's nostrils flared. "Stop fighting the collar."

"Stop making it burn."

"I am not controlling it."

"You control everything else."

"Not this."

The answer came too raw.

His gaze locked on mine.

For one breath, commander and inmate disappeared. There was only the man who had bitten me, rejected me, and now stood close enough for me to feel his heartbeat through his uniform.

Then a bell rang from the tower.

Ronin released my collar.

The heat dropped just enough for me to breathe.

He turned toward the yard. "Inspection is over."

Nobody moved.

He pointed at the recruits. "Break ranks."

The inmates scattered, but not far. They wanted to watch what happened next.

I reached for my scarf.

Ronin caught it first.

"Give it back."

"No."

"You already exposed the wound. What else do you want?"

"A clear look at it."

"You got one."

"Medical inspection says the mark is unstable."

I went still.

"How do you know what medical inspection says?" I asked.

"Your file."

"My file says nothing about a mate mark."

"Your file says enough."

"Then tell me why the collar reacts when you touch me."

"You don't give orders here."

"You don't get to hide behind rank when you already know something about my body."

A shadow crossed his face.

I stepped closer. "What did Kyle tell you?"

The name hit him harder than the knife had.

Ronin's hand closed around my wrist.

"Don't say the medical officer's name like you know him."

"He examined me when I arrived."

"He examined your blood."

"You read that too?"

"I read every report from this academy."

"Why mine?"

His thumb rested over my pulse. "Because you are dangerous."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

"No, it isn't. You're scared Kyle will find out the commander who rejects his own mate is standing here with her blood on his hand."

His stare went flat and deadly.

I knew I had gone too far.

I did it anyway.

"Say it," I whispered. "Tell them what happened in the pit. Tell them you claimed me, then ran from the bond like a coward."

Ronin yanked me toward him.

My chest struck his.

The scarf fell between our boots.

His mouth came close to mine, but he stopped before touching me. His breath moved over my lips. His hand held the back of my neck, fingers spread beneath my hair.

"You want the yard to hear?" he asked.

"I want you to stop lying."

"You think a mate bond gives you power over me?"

"I think it gives me one thing you can't order away."

His thumb pressed below my ear.

The mark flared.

I gasped.

He heard it. His eyes dropped to my mouth again.

"What does it give you?" he asked.

"A reason to make your life miserable."

"That's already your favorite hobby."

"You noticed."

His mouth almost curved.

Not a smile. Something more dangerous. Something he killed before it reached his eyes.

I saw it anyway.

"There you are," I said. "The man under the mask."

His expression vanished.

He released my neck and grabbed my hands.

"Turn around."

"Why?"

"Now."

"You run out of arguments?"

He twisted my wrists behind my back.

A guard approached with a pair of heavy iron cuffs. The links were thick enough to bruise bone.

My stomach dropped.

"No," I said.

Ronin took the cuffs. "You are assigned to night patrol."

"I'm not cleared for the dead zone."

"You are now."

"That isn't a patrol route. It's a graveyard."

"Then stay alive."

I pulled against his hold. "You can't send me there alone."

"I can."

"The north perimeter is closed after dusk."

"Not for you."

"This is punishment because I embarrassed you."

"This is punishment because you threatened a commander, attacked during inspection, and tried to expose classified information."

"Classified? Your mate mark?"

His grip tightened.

"Keep talking," he said. "I can add another week."

"You can't make me disappear just because I know who bit me."

"I can make sure no one hears you before the cold does."

He snapped one cuff around my wrist.

The iron was freezing. The collar buzzed in answer, and pain raced from my neck down my arm.

I sucked in air.

Ronin watched my face. "Does it hurt?"

"No. I'm laughing inside."

"Liar."

"You like calling me that."

He fitted the second cuff. The chain pulled my arms close behind me.

I tested the iron. It didn't move.

The yard had gone quiet again.

Everyone was watching the commander bind the inmate he had exposed, fought, and touched too many times.

Sella stepped forward. "Commander, the dead zone patrol requires two guards."

Ronin didn't look at her. "You volunteering?"

Her face drained. "No."

"Then step back."

She did.

I leaned toward him as far as the chain allowed. "You see? They obey because they fear you. Not because they respect you."

"Respect is optional. Orders aren't."

"And what happens if I refuse?"

Ronin took hold of the chain between my wrists and pulled me backward until my spine met his chest.

His mouth touched the space beside my ear—not a kiss. Not quite. The contact lasted one hot second before he moved away.

"Then I escort you myself," he said.

The promise hit harder than the cuffs.

I twisted to look at him. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"The dead zone is three miles of frozen ravines."

"I know."

"There are feral shifters outside the wall."

"I know."

"And you still send me alone?"

"You won't be alone."

My pulse jumped. "Who else?"

Ronin looked toward the north gate. "Whatever finds you first."

I stared at him. "That's not a patrol. That's execution."

"Then survive the night and prove me wrong."

He turned me toward the gate.

The chain between my wrists pulled tight. My boots scraped across the dirt as he walked me past the recruits.

Every eye followed.

My face burned. The mark burned hotter.

At the gate, I stopped. "You want me dead because the bond chose wrong."

Ronin stopped too.

For the first time all morning, he didn't answer right away.

I looked over my shoulder. "Did I get it right?"

His hand came up and closed around the back of my neck again.

He pulled me close enough that the collar pressed against his chest.

"You want to know why I rejected you?" he asked.

My breath caught.

The guards behind us went silent.

Ronin's thumb rested against the fresh wound.

"Ask me after you come back from the dead zone."

"You mean if I come back."

"No," he said, eyes locked on mine. "I mean when you come back, you and I are going to discuss exactly what happened in that pit."

The words should have felt like a promise. They sounded like a threat.

Maybe both.

He shoved the gate lever down.

The iron doors began to lift.

Beyond them waited the restricted trail, the dead zone, and whatever Frostwatch had decided would finish the job the pit started.

Ronin tugged the chain once, forcing my cuffed hands higher behind me.

"Nightfall," he said. "North perimeter. Alone."

I pulled against the iron and turned back toward him. "And if I refuse?"

His eyes dropped to the bite under my collar. His thumb pressed into the raw mark as he leaned close and whispered, "Then I put you in the same cage as—"