Ronan lifted him effortlessly, slamming him against the stone wall. Dust and debris fell from the ceiling, and Raphael hissed in pain.
"You better pray he comes back safe." Ronan growled.
He wanted Riven back, he truly did, but he was too angry to admit that he was worried for his safety. He knew how unsafe the world was for a half-wolf.
Ronan left the prison with slow, measured steps, his hands curled into fists at his sides. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and iron, and yet it did nothing to clear the turmoil in his mind. His thoughts were plagued by a single name, a single face—Riven.
He could still feel the ghost of his anger, the phantom of his beast snarling in frustration. Raphael's smug expression lingered in his mind, a bitter reminder of his defiance. Ronan had wanted to rip him apart.
He could not. Riven would hate him... And he already hated him enough.
