The wind carried the bitter taste of winter as it howled across the thick woodland. Snow hung from the trees like ghosts, and the heavens above was a limitless swath of frigid, silvery clouds.
Though the cold had already crept deep in my bones, I tightened my frayed shawl about my shoulders. Perhaps it was more than simply the cold. Perhaps it was the way Kieran strolled next to me, silent and unreadable, his demeanor as frigid as the ground below.
We had been on hours-long northward journey, headed toward the one person Kieran claimed could be of use.
An Alpha hated even among the toughest of wolves.
a man just referred to as Damian Blackwood.
We arrived at our destination just in evening.
Rising stone walls covered in frost, the fortification resembled a monolith facing the cliffs. Along the battlements, torches blazed with barely flickering flames in the harsh breeze.
About this place, everything screamed power.
Harm.
The kind of risk that caused even rogues pause.
But Kieran hesitated none at all.
He smashed his fist against the iron doors and straight headed for the gates.
Nothing happened for a protracted moment.
A deep, rumbling voice then emanated from inside.
"Turn around." You are not welcome in this place.
I regimented. He was not blustering, whatever he was.
Kieran laughed. "Is that any approach to treat an old friend?"
Silent.
The gates creaked open gradually then.
One man moved forward, his presence like a force of nature.
blackwood, Damian.
The Alpha Cold.
Damian was taller than I had anticipated, his broad bulk covered in a thick black coat, his silver eyes cooler than the ice underfoot.
But his atmosphere chilled my spine more than simply his appearance did.
Authority. One pure, relentless force.
My instincts yelled at me to comply and to lower my head. I tightened my jaw, though, not cowering.
Damian turned to look at me, incomprehensible. Then once more back to Kieran.
"You have some nerve showing up here," he replied.
Kieran waved. You always believed I lacked awareness of self-preservation.
Damian's lips drew in a narrow line. "And who's this?"
I started to say, but Kieran beat me to it.
"Zaia." My new spouse.
Something sharp, evaluating flashed in Damian's eyes.
He then let off a breath. "Leave.
Kieran shot a smile. Not without first having a chat.
Damian's face stayed the same, but I sensed a change in the air.
"Step inside," he remarked sharply. "If you can negotiate the cold."
The fortress's inside was no warmer than its outside.
Torches around the stone walls created fluttering shadows. Except for a large oak table and one chair at the middle, the hall was almost empty.
Damian settled in and fingers tapped against the tabletop.
"Speak," he demanded.
Kieran leaned much too comfortably against the wall. "We require your assistance."
Damian laughed sarcastically. "You have no need of assistance. You ought to have an army.
"Semantics," Kieran grudgingly remarked.
I groaned. "You would know why we came if you knew what we are up against."
Damian's eyes turned back to me once more, and for a little instant I felt as though he could see straight through me.
"Sebastian," he said in a whisper.
At the name, my stomach contracted.
Damian sank back. "And what do I gain from meddling in a war not of mine?"
Kieran Gracelyn. I was hoping you would ask.
Something like entertainment fluttered in Damian's eyes for the first time.
"Make your case," he said.
Kieran pushed off the wall, his face becoming austere. "You formerly belonged to an Alpha. Excellent one. Still, you gave it all up.
Damian said nothing while his jaw tightened.
Kieran kept going. "Your pack was dead. You vanished into the mountains, turned away from everybody, and let the world believe you dead."
I sighed. That was not known by me.
Damian said softly, yet his voice sliced through the air like a razor. "Be rather careful with your next words, Kieran."
Kieran turned to smile. "I'm only stating—you may continue to pretend the past is irrelevant. Alternatively, you might assist us ensure that history does not repeat again."
Quiet silence.
Damian then leaned forward and released an exhaled.
"You are asking me to defend you. To adopt a pack not of mine."
"Not for me," Kieran remarked. "For Her."
My breath halted.
Damian fixed his eyes on me, incomprehensible once more.
He then stood, gently.
I felt for a second he would object. That he would turn us away, let each of us fight our wars alone.
Then he said.
I do not fight for free.
The room's air got thick.
Kieran opened his arms in folding fashion. " Name your price."
Damian had shimmering silver eyes.
" I want my pack back."
My lips parted. "Your packet is—"
"Not all of them are dead," Damian said. Some survived. Dispersed; fractured. His vision clouded. "Locate them." Get them here. And I will fight next to you.
There was a quiet between us.
That was not a simple chore.
Finding missing wolves—wolves with every incentive to remain hidden—was perilous.
But of course, what option we had?
Kieran fixed a quick gaze at me. "Wonderful?"
I let out a gasp.
"We will do it."
Damian nodded one once. " Then we have a deal."
Now, although at great cost, Damian Blackwood is an ally of Zaia and Kieran. Their explicit goal is to locate his vanished pack.
Time is running short, though.
Sebastian is still out chasing them.
Moreover, the Cold Alpha is not a man to let down.
The game now has different rules.
And the conflict is still to start.