The wagon hit another rut and Elena's head cracked against the iron side.
Pain flared white-hot behind her eyes.
She bit down on her tongue so she wouldn't groan. The chains had cut deeper into her wrists overnight; blood seeped warm under the metal. She could smell it mixing with the piss and wet hay on the floorboards.
Marek rode closer, his gelding's breath puffing clouds. "You're quiet this morning, killer. Yesterday you had plenty to say."
She didn't look at him. The sleet had turned to fat snowflakes that stuck to her lashes and melted down her neck. Every jolt sent fresh agony up her arms. She focused on the trees instead, black trunks sliding past like sentries that didn't give a damn.
Inside her head the feast replayed anyway. She couldn't stop it.
"Two nights ago the longhouse had been loud with drums and roasted boar. Lanterns swung from the rafters, throwing gold across the tables.
Lila wore the new dress their father had bought her, deep green wool that made her look older than seventeen. She'd spun in it once for Elena, laughing, the hem flaring. "Bet the alpha's son notices me tonight."
Elena had smiled despite the knot in her gut. She always smiled for Lila. She poured the wine herself, the good southern red the pack saved for full moons. Handed the cup over. Watched her sister drink it down in three thirsty gulps.
Then Lila coughed. Once. Twice. The cup slipped. Red wine spilled across the dirt floor like fresh blood. Lila grabbed her throat, eyes bulging. The music died. People stood. Someone screamed.
Elena dropped to her knees beside her sister, hands pressing uselessly against Lila's chest. "Breathe, Lila. Just breathe!"
Her father shoved her aside so hard she tasted dirt. "What did you do?!" he snarled.
"I gave her wine. That's all."
But the pack had already decided. Fingers pointed. Whispers rippled. Human-tainted. Always jealous of her sister. Last one seen with the cup.
The trial came the next morning, fast and ugly. No real evidence, just their word against hers. The alpha council sat on the raised dais, furs on their shoulders, faces carved from old grudges. Her father stood beside them like he belonged there.
"You poisoned your own blood," the alpha said. He didn't even look surprised.
Elena kept her chin up even though her knees shook. "I did not. Someone else switched the cup. Or the wine itself was tainted. Ask the servants. Ask anyone."
Her father stepped forward. "She's always resented Lila. Human blood makes her weak. Makes her spiteful. We all saw it."
They didn't bother with witnesses. One of the betas backhanded her across the mouth when she tried to speak again.
The taste of blood filled her mouth for the second time in twenty-four hours.
They stripped the gamma's daughter pin from her cloak, the little silver wolf she'd worn since she was twelve.
Then they beat her. Not enough to kill. Just enough to make the journey north hurt worse. Boots in her ribs. A fist to the temple. She curled on the floor and took it because fighting back would only make them enjoy it more.
By the time they dragged her to the cell she was already half-broken."
* * * * * * * * *
The memory cut off when Marek's horse bumped the wagon. He leaned down, breath sour with last night's ale. "You still think you're innocent?"
"I am." she rasped weakly.
He laughed. "Doesn't matter. Blackthorns won't care. They'll fuck you raw and leave you for the crows."
The other two guards riding behind chuckled. One of them, a thick-necked man named Tor, spat a wad of tobacco into the snow. "Might as well get a taste before those freaks ruin her for good."
Elena's stomach tightened. She'd heard the tone before. She kept her eyes on the horizon where the pines thinned into rocky ridges. The bond she still didn't understand pulled harder now, a low thrum under her ribs like a second heartbeat that wasn't hers.
Night fell early. They made camp in a shallow hollow where the wind couldn't reach. The guards built a fire and passed a skin of cheap whiskey.
Elena stayed chained in the wagon, blanket thrown over her like an afterthought. Her wrists had gone numb hours ago. Hunger gnawed at her, but she refused to ask for food.
Marek approached first. He climbed into the wagon bed, boots heavy on the planks. "Cold night," he said. "Figured you could use some warming up."
She scooted back until her spine hit the bars. "Touch me and I'll scream loud enough for the Blackthorns to hear."
He grinned, teeth yellow in the firelight. "They're still miles off. And you won't be screaming for long."
Tor and the third guard hauled themselves up behind him. The wagon creaked under their weight. Marek grabbed her ankle and yanked. Elena kicked hard. Her heel caught him square in the mouth. He cursed and backhanded her so hard her vision tunneled.
"Hold her," he snarled.
They pinned her arms above her head. The chains clattered. Tor's knee drove into her stomach, knocking the air out of her. Marek fumbled with his belt. The cold air hit her thighs as he shoved her dress up. She felt the rough scrape of his callused hand and something inside her snapped clean in two.
Not fear. Rage. Pure, bright, and older than she was.
She twisted, got one hand free enough to grab Marek's ear. She bit down hard until her teeth met. Cartilage crunched. Hot blood flooded her mouth. Marek howled. He punched her in the side of the head but she didn't let go. She worried the ear like a dog with a rat until it tore free in her teeth.
Tor swore and slammed his fist into her ribs again. She spat the ear at him. It landed wet on his boot.
"You crazy bitch!" Marek clutched the side of his head, blood pouring between his fingers.
The third guard drew a knife. "I'll gut her right here."
A howl cut the night open. Close this time. Three voices, braided tight, the same ones she'd heard yesterday.
The sound rolled down the ridge like thunder. The horses screamed and tried to bolt.
The guards froze.
Marek scrambled backward, hand still clamped to his ruined ear. "Leave her. We're too close to their territory."
They jumped out of the wagon fast. Elena lay there panting, dress torn, blood on her chin that wasn't hers.
The howl came again, lower, almost pleased. The bond in her chest flared hot.
For one stupid second she wanted to howl back.
The rest of the night passed in silence.
The guards kept their distance.
Marek wrapped his head in a bloody rag and shot her murderous looks across the fire.
Elena curled on her side, chains rattling every time she breathed. The ear she'd bitten off lay somewhere in the snow. She hoped wolves found it.
By morning the ridges had grown steeper. Snow lay thicker on the ground. The wagon wheels crunched through it.
Elena's body ached in places she didn't know could hurt.
Her lip was split.
Two ribs felt cracked. But the pull inside her chest had grown stronger, almost comforting now. Like something up ahead recognized the mess she'd made of Marek and approved.
Tor muttered to the others, "We tell the Blackthorns she attacked us first. They'll believe it."
Marek only grunted.
The trees opened up around midday. A massive stone wall rose ahead, black rock veined with ice.
Frostfang gates. Two guards in heavy furs stood watch, spears taller than they were. They didn't speak. Just swung the gates wide when the wagon approached.
Elena sat up as best she could.
The great hall crouched at the end of a long cleared path, smoke curling from three chimneys.
It looked like it had been carved from the mountain itself.
Wolves carved into the doors watched her with blank stone eyes.
The wagon stopped.
The brothers were already waiting.