Page 107 of Knot Heirs: Serenity's Reign

"I'll burn the world down before I let them touch you," he whispered to her sleeping form, the vow settling in his chest like a stone.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges. The business Marcus left behind was teetering on the brink of war, and Serenity'semergence as his heir had accelerated the timeline. But tonight, in the quiet darkness of his bedroom, with her heartbeat steady against his, Ronan allowed himself a moment of peace.

A moment to pretend that the path forward wasn't stained with inevitable blood.

The first pale threads of dawn filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets. Ronan watched Serenity stir, those unique golden eyes with their flecks of red blinking open to meet his. For a moment, neither spoke, the weight of yesterday's events hanging between them.

"You haven't slept," she said, voice husky from rest as she traced a finger along the shadows under his eyes.

"Had things to think about." Ronan shifted, his body still faintly aching from the fight. "Things you should know."

Serenity pushed herself up on one elbow, suddenly alert. "About my father?"

"About everything." Ronan exhaled slowly, the confession he'd been holding back for weeks now inevitable. "About me."

He rose from the bed, muscles rippling as he crossed to the window. Pulling back the curtain, he stared at the city waking below them, the same streets he'd once fought to survive on.

"I wasn't always Drake," he began, his voice rougher than usual. "I was born Roman Alexander Drake III, heir to one of the oldest fortunes in this city."

Serenity's sharp intake of breath told him she recognized the name. The Drakes had been rivals of the Vales for generations.

"My father disowned me when I was twenty. Said I lacked the necessary... restraint... for an Alpha of our standing." A bitter laugh escaped him. "He wasn't wrong."

Ronan turned to face her, leaning against the windowsill. "I fought my way up from nothing after that. Street enforcer, then mercenary, then my own operation. Your father was the only one who saw potential in me when everyone else saw trash."

Serenity sat upright, golden eyes flashing with the red highlights that always appeared when she was processing something significant. "My father? Marcus helped you?"

"Not directly." Ronan ran a hand through his copper hair. "He blocked three separate attempts on my life when I was establishing myself. Sent anonymous tips about raids. Made sure certain doors stayed open when others tried to close them."

He moved back to the bed, sitting on its edge. The morning light cast harsh shadows across the scars on his torso.

"I never understood why. We never even met face to face." Ronan's green eyes darkened with memory. "Then one day, I received a message. Just an address and a time. When I went, there was a sealed envelope waiting. Inside was documentation on my own family's attempt to have me eliminated, along with proof they were trying to frame your father's organization for it."

Serenity reached for his hand, her fingers intertwining with his. "Why would he help you?"

"Balance of power, maybe. Or..." Ronan paused, choosing his words carefully. "He once wrote that he recognized something in me that reminded him of himself. Said the city needed Alphas who understood the streets, not just boardrooms."

Serenity processed this, connecting threads in her mind. "And after he died?"

"Chaos. His lieutenants started carving up territory. The Beaumont brothers saw opportunity. They've been systematically dismantling what's left of Vale's empire." Ronan's jaw tightened. "And now they know about you."

Serenity stood, pacing the room in one of his shirts that hung to her mid-thigh. Her mind worked rapidly, the business strategist in her assessing angles.

"My father left me assets I don't even fully understand yet," she said. "Shipping companies, real estate holdings, offshore accounts..."

"And liabilities," Ronan added grimly. "Promises made to dangerous people. Territory agreements that are being violated daily. A network of informants who don't know who to trust."

She stopped pacing suddenly. "What would happen if we consolidated? Your security operations, my father's legitimate businesses?"

"It would paint a target on both our backs," Ronan said, but she could see he was considering it.

"I already have a target on my back. I'm a Vale, and an Omega." Determination hardened her voice. "I refuse to be hunted like prey."

Ronan stood, moving to her with the fluid grace that belied his size. "What are you suggesting exactly?"

"A partnership. I need your muscle and street knowledge. You need my father's connections and my business expertise." She looked up at him unflinchingly. "What can I do to help protect what's ours?"

The word 'ours' hung between them, charged with meaning neither was ready to fully acknowledge.

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