Third Person POV


    Kieran withdrew from the campaign quietly.


    There was no stage. No bannered hall. No questions shouted from reporters eager to capture the moment his ambition finally fractured under pressure. There was only


    a written statement, released through official channels just before dawn, concise and immactely phrased.


    He cited instability across the kingdom. Heightened security threats. A belief that leadership during crisis required focus, notpetition. He expressed confidence in the council''s ability to guide the realm forward and reiterated hismitment to Pine Ridge above all else.


    It was dignified.


    It was bloodless.


    And it was a devastating end to his campaign.


    By midmorning, the news had rippled across the kingdom, faster than even Nn''s withdrawal had. Kieran had been thest viable counterweight in the race, the one candidate many had clung to as a stabilizing alternative amid growing fear. His polling numbers had already been slipping-quietly, inexorably-ever since the debate attack.


    This decision merely confirmed what many had already begun to suspect.


    The crown was no longer the point.


    Fear was.


    Within council chambers, reactions were mixed. Some elders praised Kieran''s restraint, framing it as a rare act of political maturity. Others used him of capittion, of abandoning the field when the kingdom needed reassurance the


    most.


    Kieran did not respond to either camp.


    He stayed in Pine Ridge, closed doors, and redirected his resources inward- toward border security, food stores, and refugee routes from packs nearest the roguends. His advisors urged him to rify his position, to reassure supporters that this was


    not weakness.


    He refused.


    "History doesn''t reward speeches," he told them tly. "It rewards oues."


    Privately, he knew the truth was harsher than anything his statement had conveyed.


    The kingdom was no longer in a political moment.


    It was bracing for war.


    Kieran knew that just as well as Nn and Cassian did. With is proximity to the roguends, it was important that he was prepared. He sent coded correspondences to Cassian in Moonstone. It wasn''t an alliance, just good business. Just sensible.


    They wanted to avoid unnecessary bloodshed as much as he did and it only made sense that their chances were better together.


    So Kieran worked with them. Quietly, in the shadows. His own borders and pack were his top priority, but he saw no problem in sharing intel and information. In return, he was kept apprised of whatever new information Silver Fang and Moonstone gathered.


    Unbeknownst to the packs, the most powerful territories in the kingdom were bracing for invasion. For a storm the likes of which they''d never seen.


    And on the far side of thating storm, Felicity was unraveling.


    The rogue zone was nothing like the stories told in council halls.


    There were no grand encampments, no unified ns bound by shared purpose. Just fractured territories stitched together by desperation, violence, and the unspoken agreement that no one here was innocent-and no one expected mercy. Felicity hadsted three days before the reality of it sank in.


    For the first couple of days she had convinced herself that this was nothing, that she could endure anything if it meant winning Nn back. That notion didn''t hold up long.


    The cold bit first. Not the clean chill of winter estates or warded keeps, but a damp, bone-deep cold that clung to her skin and refused to let go.


    The ground was uneven, churned into mud by countless boots, blood, and rot. Smoke hung low in the air, acrid and constant, carrying the stench of unwashed bodies and old fires.


    She was outside of one of the rogue settlements, deep in the forest where the outcast warriors and killers for hire made their homes.


    This was where Ellie came from. This is where she ended up after the orphanage. Here, in the mud and blood and desperation of the rogue zone.


    That thought burned hotter than the cold could counter.


    Felicity paced the edge of the encampment, boots caked in filth, cloak pulled tight around her shoulders as if she could shut the world out by sheer will. The rogues she had hired watched her from a distance-some sharpening des, others muttering among themselves in low voices.


    They had seen anger before. Their own and others. This was not a ce that people ended up unless they had burned with a rage too hot to contain and been spurned because of it.


    That''s not what they saw in Felicity. She was erratic, obsessed, manic. This wasn''t just anger the way they had known it.


    This was something else.


    "I don''t understand it," Felicity snapped, turning sharply toward one of them. "How could he choose her?"


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    Cede is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a ir for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cede''s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.