We stepped out of the cell block and the night air hit me like a slap. It was cold as fuck. My bare feet sank into the mud, robe torn and clinging to my legs. The whole pack still crowded the edges of the clearing, torches flickering, faces twisted in shock or glee.
Sveinn stood at the front, rubbing his throat where Gunnar had grabbed him, eyes burning with pure hate.
"You can't just take her!" he snarled, voice cracking like the coward he was. "She's Shadowpine blood. Mine to punish."
Gunnar didn't even slow down. His hand stayed locked around my wrist, not tight enough to bruise but solid enough that I knew running wasn't an option. "She's mine now. The moon said so. Try stopping me and your whole pack burns before dawn."
I kept my mouth shut and my chin up. Sunna caught my eye from the side, her mouth open like she wanted to scream but knew better. My father, Jakob, just stood there with the elders, arms crossed, not saying shit. Typical. Mom had already disappeared into the crowd. *Thanks for the support, assholes.*
Two massive black horses waited at the tree line, reins held by a scarred warrior with a thick beard and eyes like flint. He went by the name Matthías Bjarnason. I'd heard the name whispered in pack rumors. He was Gunnar's second, the one who crushed rebellions for fun. He gave me one look, snorted, and tossed the reins to Gunnar without a word.
"Mount up," Gunnar told me. No explanation. Just that low growl of a voice that made my stomach twist in ways I hated.
I grabbed the saddle horn and swung up behind him before he could haul me like baggage. My arms went around his waist on instinct. He was solid muscle under the leather jacket, warm even through the chill. His scent hit me next, it was pine, smoke, and something sharp like steel. It made that weird spark in my chest flare again, hotter this time. *What the hell is that feeling? Not my wolf. It can't be.*
We took off before the pack could organize. Hooves pounded the dirt path out of the clearing and into the pines. Branches whipped past. I pressed my face against Gunnar's back to keep from getting smacked. Behind us, shouts rose up —Sveinn yelling orders, a few warriors shifting and howling. They'd chase. Of course they would. I was their embarrassment, not their loss.
The forest blurred. My heart hammered so hard I felt it in my head. *This is real. Sveinn rejected me like trash in front of everyone. My own father let it happen. And now I'm riding off with the Lycan King like some war prize.* I wanted to scream. Instead I dug my fingers into Gunnar's sides and held on.
After a mile the path narrowed. Gunnar slowed the horse to a trot and glanced back at me over his shoulder. Silver eyes caught the moonlight filtering through the trees. "You gonna hold onto me or talk?"
"Talk about what?" I snapped. "How you just bought me like a fucking horse? Or how my mate tossed me in a cell two hours ago?"
He faced forward again. "Not your mate. Never was. The bond I felt when I walked in... that's real. Moon doesn't fuck around."
I laughed, short and bitter. "Yeah? Well the moon can choke on it. I don't even know you. You're the guy who raids borders and leaves bodies. And now I'm what, your Luna? Bullshit."
Matthías rode up beside us on his own horse, matching pace easy. "King Gunnar, we got company. Three scouts, shifting fast. Shadowpine colors."
Gunnar's body tensed under my hands. "Handle it quiet. No full fight yet. I want her clear before blood really starts."
Matthías peeled off into the trees without another word. Gunnar kicked the horse faster. We broke out of the thick pines onto an old logging road that hugged the border river. Water rushed loud below the bank. My robe flapped in the wind, thighs freezing against the saddle.
That's when the first howl cut the night. It felt close. Too close I twisted to look and saw three wolves burst from the underbrush —Sveinn's best trackers, fur bristling, eyes glowing. One leaped straight for us. Gunnar yanked the horse sideways. The wolf missed but slammed into the ground and rolled up snarling.
"Stay on," Gunnar barked at me. He drew a long knife from his boot, silver blade catching the moon. No shift. He didn't need to. The horse reared and I gripped tighter, my legs burning.
The second wolf went for the horse's flank. Gunnar leaned and drove the knife down behind its ear. A wet crunch. It dropped mid-leap. The third one: bigger, with a scar across its muzzle circled and lunged at me instead. His claws raked my arm. Pain exploded in me. I yelped, more pissed than scared.
Something inside me snapped awake. Like a rush like fire under my skin. My vision sharpened. I smelled the wolf's breath, the blood on its fur. Without thinking I kicked hard with my heel, catching it in the jaw. It stumbled then Gunnar twisted, grabbed its throat mid-air, and slammed it into the ground hard.
"Enough," he growled. The wolf whined once and went still.
Matthías rode back up, wiping blood off his own blade. "Two more turned tail. Word'll spread fast."
Gunnar wiped his knife on the dead wolf's fur and sheathed it. He looked at my arm. Blood trickled down, soaking the white robe. His jaw tightened. "You hurt?"
"What a dumb question. You can clearly see I'm hurt. And it's not like you even care," I muttered. But the spark in my chest flared again at his tone. Warm. Protective. *Shut up, body. He's the enemy.*
He reached back anyway, tore a strip from the bottom of his own shirt, and wrapped it tightly around the wound. His fingers brushed my skin. The touch sent that fire higher, straight to my gut. I sucked in a breath.
"Don't get ideas," he said, voice rough. "You're useful. That's it. Weak wolf or not, the bond makes you mine. Shadowpine just handed me leverage on a silver platter."
"Useful," I repeated. The word tasted like ash. "Great. So I'm a bargaining chip now."
He turned the horse toward the river ford. "Better than a cell. Or dead. Your old Alpha would've let you rot till the next full moon then killed you quiet to save face."
I didn't answer because he was right. Sveinn's face flashed in my head, the way he'd smiled at me an hour ago, then spat rejection like it was nothing. My father's blank stare. Sunna's helpless yell. Fuck them all.
We crossed the river, and on the other side, a small camp fire glowed ahead, maybe a dozen tents circled tight. They were his men. Lycans. Bigger, meaner looking than anything in Shadowpine.
Matthías caught up again. "Camp's secure. But the girl's bleeding. Smells like prey. Some of the boys might test her."
"Let them try," Gunnar said. "It'll be their last."
We rode straight into the circle of firelight. Heads turned. A couple warriors stood up, eyes narrowing at me. One muttered something about "Shadowpine bitch." Gunnar ignored it, swung down, then reached up and lifted me off the horse. My arm throbbed but the bleeding had slowed.
He steered me toward the biggest tent, inside it smelled of smoke and leather. A low bedroll, a table with maps, a lantern hanging. No luxury. Just war.
"Sit," he said, pointing at a stool. I sat. He grabbed a flask from the table, poured something clear on a fresh rag, and pressed it to my arm. It burned like hell. I hissed but didn't pull away.
"Why were you even at the ceremony?" I asked. "Alliance talk? Or did you come hunting weak wolves to claim?"
"Both. Your Alpha owed me debts I came to collect. But I saw you instead and the bond hit like lightning. Moon's got jokes."
I stared at him. Up close he looked younger than the stories, maybe thirty but the scars and the cold eyes said he'd earned every one. "And if I say no and run back?"
"You won't make it ten steps." He tied the rag off. "And deep down you know it. That spark in your chest? It's the same one I feel. Hate me all you want. The bond doesn't care."
My throat tightened. He was right again. The pull sat there under my ribs, warm and insistent, like it wanted me to lean in. *Traitor body. After everything tonight.*
Outside, voices rose. Someone shouted. Matthías stuck his head in. "Scout just rode up. Shadowpine's mobilizing. Sveinn Ragnarsson's calling it an abduction. Says he'll take her back or burn the border."
Gunnar stood up slow. His eyes met mine. "Looks like your old life isn't done bleeding into the new one."
I swallowed hard. The fire in my arm, the ache in my chest, the way Gunnar looked at me like I was already his problem to solve... it all crashed together. Part of me wanted to hide, the rest wanted to run straight back into the fight.
But I stayed put.
Because for the first time since the drums started, I didn't feel like the pack's broken toy.
I felt like something dangerous was waking up.
And whatever came next whether war, bond, or blood... I wasn't going down quiet.