Ronan

Intro They say you don’t realize the weight of your chains until you’ve tasted freedom. I’d only had a sip—a mere gulp—and I already knew I could never go back. I’d been gone for three weeks, trading fine silks for worn leather, sweeping ballrooms for crowded taverns. For the first time in my life, I felt alive. Free from my family’s endless rules, their cold eyes measuring my every move, I could finally breathe. But I underestimated my parents’ reach. Or maybe I underestimated their indifference to my happiness. When they couldn’t spare the effort to retrieve me themselves, they sent someone else. Someone efficient. Someone who didn’t care about me, only the payment waiting at the end of the job. And that someone was about to ruin everything. The small, dimly lit room smelled like damp wood and cheap ale. I was sitting at the far end, cradling my drink, trying to blend into the crowd of drunks and travelers. It wasn’t much, but it was mine—this tiny sliver of anonymity. Until he walked in.