Chapter 30: Nightmare vision

RONAN

There was no sleeping tonight.

The events of the night swirled in my mind, a dark, relentless tide I couldn't seem to swim against.

I wasn't planning for any of it to happen.

Of course I knew she was having a movie night – it was quite obvious actually. And I knew she needed that to unwind – especially after the past few days full of social interaction and public showings. That was too much, even for me – and I am the one used to that.

It was a spontaneous decision to join her. I knew she would not like that at first – but however selfish that was I kind of grew to like spending time with her. She is not afraid to tell me what she really thinks. And our conversations – even though sarcastic most of the time – were becoming something I really enjoyed. She started to feel more like my partner rather than a girl thrown in a position she didn't belong.

Watching movies with her was fun – the most fun I had in a long time to be honest. For that few hours I wasn't thinking about the pack, the politics, anything really. And then the kiss happened – that unexpected kiss that I could still feel with all my being.

And then it all went downhill.

I understand where Liam's anger came from, I really do. He is my brother after all and what I did was shitty. I knew that. Especially with the informations I had at the time. And seeing him brought me back to reality and for the first time that night I thought of her.

Isabelle.

For the first time in weeks, just for a few hours I have not been thinking about her. And that realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

I've sent my best men looking for her. And for all this time they found nothing. Not a single clue to what happened to her, to where she might have been. And now this. Was it possible she left on her own will? Why would she do this to me, to us?

The memory of her haunted me like a ghost, lingering at the edges of my thoughts. We've been together for so long and yet, here I was, disloyal to her and everything we have been through.

She was calm and beautiful. Always beside me, in my shadow following my every step. She was always a little bit withdrawn though – focused more on her spells and scrolls rather than anything else. But truth be told, it never bothered me.

We had our separate goals and were working towards them supporting each other.

While I tried to maintain a peace between factions and build trust between the human and supernatural world, she was searching for ways to gain more power. 

She wasn't the strongest of witches – everybody knew that. But she definitely was the most determined one. At the beginning it felt like she was doing it for the sole purpose of gaining some kind of acceptance from the Coven. But with time it changed, it became more like she wanted to prove them that they were wrong about her.

I asked her about this many times – why she is so fixated on that. The one time she hasn't dismissed me she just said "I just have to do this". So I helped her as much as I could. As much as she allowed me.

We cared for each other, supported one another – but was it really love? Just affection? Bound grown out of being used to each other? Or is it the ritual now poisoning my mind and pushing me towards someone else? 

All I knew is that I wanted her to come back. I didn't know what was going to happen with us after she was back but all I wanted for her right now was to be unharmed, home and safe. 

It was unsettling, this duality inside me — the feelings I had for Isabelle, and the pull toward Maeve, each steering me in opposite directions.

Because for some reason I couldn't bring myself to regret the kiss – remorse yes, but not regret. That's why I let Liam rant for so long – even though he pushed all my buttons. I deserved that. I was so close to wolfing out and ripping him apart after what he said about Isabelle. 

If it weren't for Maeve I probably would have.

Because Maeve… She was different. Wild, unpredictable, and maddening. She challenged me, faced everything with a tenacity that made her hard to look away from, as if she dared the world to break her and then stood there, unyielding.

She took control and was so strong at that moment - I am grateful for that. I even admire that. But I can't deny that my remorse eased after she said she broke up with him. It kind of made me feel glad – however messed up that is.

A scream broke me out of my thoughts followed by a strangled whimper, raw and vulnerable. I strained to hear, and then it came again, almost a gasp, like someone fighting for breath.

Maeve.

Before I realized I had moved, I was already halfway down the hallway, my body responding before my mind caught up.

Her door was slightly ajar, and I could see her tangled in her blankets, her face twisted in fear. She clutched at the sheets, her breaths shallow and panicked, as if trapped in some nightmare she couldn't escape.

"Maeve," I whispered, stepping into the room. She didn't hear me, too far lost in whatever dark vision held her. I reached out, touching her shoulder lightly, grounding her. "Maeve, wake up. It's just a dream."

Her eyes flew open, unfocused and wild, and she sucked in a sharp breath. She looked at me, her gaze struggling to settle, like she was seeing right through me, still half-trapped in the grip of her nightmare. I felt an ache watching her like this. I'd never seen her so vulnerable, and it unsettled me in a way I didn't expect.

"You're safe," I murmured, my voice as steady as I could make it, though my pulse had quickened at the raw terror in her expression. "You're here. Just breathe with me, okay?"

She blinked, her eyes clearing just a little as they locked onto mine. The panic hadn't left her entirely, but she was beginning to focus, her breaths still short and uneven. I took her hand gently, guiding it to rest on my chest, so she could feel the rhythm of my heart beneath her palm. 

She needed something solid to hold on to, something to ground her in the present.

Her breaths were shaky, still too shallow, and I kept my hand over hers, inhaling deeply, slowly. "Just follow me," I said softly. "In… and out. Nice and slow."

She tried, and though each inhale still seemed to catch, she started to sync with my rhythm, her breaths evening out. I stayed quiet, not moving, letting her find her footing, letting her anchor herself in the steadiness of my breathing. There was a vulnerability in her that caught me off guard, a rawness that tugged at something deep inside.

"There you go," I murmured as her breath finally settled, her pulse no longer racing beneath my hand. "It's okay, Maeve. You're safe."

She shuddered, her gaze dropping as if she was just realizing how exposed she was. I shifted back a little, loosening my hold to give her space, but I didn't let go entirely. She looked down, biting her lip, and then finally whispered, "I had a vision."

The words hung in the air, heavy with a meaning neither of us fully understood. Her visions had been haunting her for weeks, fragments that showed up unbidden, casting shadows over her mind.

"What kind of vision?" I asked, keeping my tone gentle. I could see the way she hugged herself, trying to find some semblance of composure, and it only deepened the urge to protect her from whatever darkness had gripped her.

Her face twisted, as though the memory itself hurt. "It was dark," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "There were shadows everywhere. Blood. And someone… someone like this person Liam told us today." She drew a sharp breath, pressing her hand to her chest as if she could stop the ache there. "It was like I was trapped, and I couldn't get away. Couldn't breathe."

I clenched my jaw, feeling something dark flicker within me. This wasn't just some ordinary nightmare. I'd felt the raw fear radiating off her, and I knew there was something deeper going on.

"Do your visions usually feel this intense?" I asked, even as I dreaded her answer. The rituals had left her with these visions, glimpses into some unseen world, but I hadn't realized they'd become this consuming.

She shook her head, her voice bitter. "No. They've always been… distant, like watching a memory through fog. But this…" She trailed off, hugging herself tighter. "It felt real. I could feel their, the shadows, pain, but I was powerless to do anything."

The helplessness in her tone hit me harder than I expected. I knew what it was like to feel trapped, to feel like there was something just out of reach, something you couldn't control. "Maeve," I said quietly, "I don't know what these visions are, but if they're this intense… Maybe there's a reason. Maybe they're trying to tell you something important."

A hollow laugh slipped from her, bitter and strained. "You make it sound like they're my choice, like I can just figure them out and move on." Her gaze dropped, and I could see the exhaustion etched into her face, the toll these visions were taking. "I didn't ask to be dragged into this world of shadows and blood."

I could relate more than I cared to admit. "That's not what I meant. But believe me," I murmured, my voice softening, "I know what it's like to deal with things you didn't ask for."

She looked at me, surprised, a flicker of recognition in her gaze. We stayed like that for a moment, a quiet understanding passing between us. I hadn't expected her to get it, but somehow, she did.

"You make it sound easy," she said softly, her voice barely audible. There was a vulnerability there, a softness I hadn't seen in her before.

"It's not easy," I replied, surprised by the gentleness in my own voice. "But you're stronger than you realize, Maeve. You showed it tonight, with Liam. You were like an alpha that I should be. You already helped me so many times, but you can't forget that sometimes you also need it. And you have me."

The vulnerability in her gaze deepened, and I felt a strange ache at the way she looked at me, as though I were offering her something she didn't quite know how to accept. She hesitated, then whispered, "Thank you." Her voice was barely a breath.

I held her gaze, feeling a strange warmth settle in my chest. I hadn't expected any of this, hadn't expected to feel this pull toward her. And yet, here I was, in her room in the dead of night, unable to walk away.

"Try to rest," I murmured, rising from the bed. But as I turned to go, she reached out, her hand brushing my arm, a fleeting touch that made me pause.

"Ronan?" Her voice was soft, tentative, and I turned back to find her watching me, her face softened by the dim light.

"Yeah?" My voice was just as quiet, the tension of the moment lingering between us.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping, and for a moment, I thought she might let it go. But then she whispered, "Could you... Stay? Just for tonight. I... I don't want to be alone now…"