Riven hesitated as the question hung in the air like a weight pressing down on his chest. His gaze flickered between the two men—Soren, standing behind him with his usual confident smirk, and Ronan, kneeling beside his chair with an expression so vulnerable it almost hurt to look at.
What could he say? There wasn't an easy answer to give, and every word felt like it would slice through the fragile tension in the room. He took a slow breath, trying to collect his thoughts, but the truth remained elusive. It wasn't that he didn't know what he wanted—he knew perfectly well. But saying it out loud was another thing entirely.
Riven swallowed, his lips parting to speak, but the words refused to come. Soren's gaze never wavered, intense and possessive, while Ronan's face remained etched with a desperation that made Riven's heart ache.
