Fiona’s POV
“Fiona!” Magnus’s voice thundered through the hallway, sharp and commanding. Even from behind the closed door, it made me shiver. His tone wasn’t a request; it was an order like always. My stomach twisted, the knot of anger I kept buried tightening. I took a breath, letting the icy air of my room fill my lungs. Whatever he wanted, I would face it the way I always had: head held high, no matter how much it cost me.
I pushed open the door and made my way toward the grand hall, my shoes making sounds against the wooden floor. The sound echoed in the empty corridor, each step a reminder of the silence that ruled this house unless Magnus chose to break it. The shadowy lights overhead flickered as I passed, casting faint shadows that seemed to shrink under his rule, just like everyone else.
When I entered the hall, I found him pacing in front of the massive fireplace. His presence filled the room, heavy and suffocating. He turned as I approached, his dark eyes locking onto me and I felt the weight of his gaze settle on me.
“You called for me?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing any fear in me.
Magnus stopped pacing and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you know why you’re here?”
“No,” I replied, moving my head slightly. “But I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
His jaw tightened at my tone, but I didn’t care. Let him be angry.
“You’re to be mated to Logan Blackridge,” he said, his voice as blunt as a hammer.
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, I just looked at him, my mind struggling to process what he’d said. Logan Blackridge. The name alone was enough to send a shiver down my spine. The infamous Alpha of the Blackridge pack, known for his ruthlessness, his unyielding power, and his cold, calculating nature. And now, according to Magnus, I was supposed to be bound to him.
“You’re joking,” I said finally, my voice low but sharp.
“This isn’t a joke, Fiona,” Magnus shouted. “The alliance with the Blackridge pack is necessary. Their resources and warriors are the only thing keeping Thornwood safe from rogue attacks. This is about survival.”
“Survival?” I spat, my voice rising. “No, this is about you. About your pride, your ambition. You’re not doing this for the pack—you’re doing it for yourself. And you’re using me to do it.”
Magnus’s expression darkened, and before I knew it, he was in front of me. His hand shot out, gripping my arm tightly. “Watch your tone,” he growled. “You may not like it, but this isn’t up for discussion. You will do what’s required of you, Fiona. That’s final.”
I yanked my arm free, my chest filled with rage. “You can force me to stand next to him, but you’ll never make me submit,” I said, my voice trembling with anger. “You’ll regret this, Magnus.”
Before he could respond, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the hall. My shoes struck the floor hard with every step, the sound echoing like the pounding of my heart. The air outside hit me like a slap when I stepped out, cold and sharp. I didn’t stop walking until I reached the edge of the forest, where the snow was a blanket of white beneath the tall, silent trees.
I leaned against one of the trees, I closed my eyes and let the rough bark press into my back. The cold air stung my cheeks, and my breath came out in short, visible puffs. I tried to calm the storm raging inside me, but the anger refused to settle. Tears pricked my eyes, hot and unwelcome, but I blinked them away. Crying wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t undo Magnus’s decree or the way he had stripped me of my choice.
“Fiona?” A soft voice broke through the quiet.
I opened my eyes to see Lila, my younger sister, making her way toward me. Her dark hair framed her pale face, her eyes filled with worry. She wrapped her cloak tightly around her as she stepped carefully through the snow.
“I heard what happened,” she said when she reached me. Her voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of her concern. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head, unable to find the words. Lila stepped closer and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a warm, firm hug. Her embrace was steady, calming me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.
I stood by the window covered with frost, tracing my fingers over its glass. The cold pierced through to my skin but I didn’t pull away. Outside, the trees moved in unison , their branches reaching toward the grey sky. They stood tall, unmoved by the chaos that swirled inside these walls. I envied them, their stillness, the quietness they maintained. I wished I could feel the same.
“You’re stronger than this,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “Magnus thinks he can control you because that’s all he knows how to do. But he doesn’t understand you, Fiona. Don’t let him break you.”
Her words lit a spark inside me, small but bright. I pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes. “I won’t let him win,” I said, my voice steadier now. “If Magnus thinks I’ll just go along with this, he’s wrong. And if Logan Blackridge thinks I’m some weak little pawn, he’s in for a surprise.”
Lila smiled faintly and squeezed my shoulders. “Good. That’s the Fiona I know, remember you’re not alone in this no matter what happens, I’ve got your back.”
She gave me one last hug before turning to head back to the house. I stayed where I was, staring into the forest. Magnus might think he held all the power, but he was wrong. I wasn’t going to let him or anyone else decide my fate.
Logan's povThe next dawn found Whiteclaw uneasy. Every wolf in the stronghold moved like someone listening for a sound only they could hear.Logan walked the inner wall alone. From up here the pack looked smaller, corners empty, sentries keeping their eyes on one another instead of the trees. He could smell fear everywhere tangled together.Below, Fiona was training a fresh patrol. Her voice carried through the chill air, calm but edged. Serena moved among the recruits, her movements precise, her expression unreadable. Watching them side by side unsettled him in a way he couldn’t name.He was still watching when footsteps approached behind him.Amaiya.She had no right to be in his territory, and yet she walked straight toward him, cloak snapping in the wind, eyes cold. “You didn’t finish the job,” she said. “Your pack still looks broken.”“I should throw you off this wall,” Logan answered.“You could,” she said lightly, “but you won’t. You still want to know who opened the gates for
Fiona's povWakanda watched the fire rise from the ridge. The clash below had already died down , screams fading, steel buried in silence. His soldiers waited behind him, restless, the scent of blood hanging in the air.“They slipped through,” one muttered.Wakanda didn’t answer. His eyes burned through the haze, searching for movement among the ruins. He could still feel her power, his daughter’s , a wild, pulsing thing that should have died under his command but hadn’t.He closed his hands behind his back. The iron rings on his fingers cut into his skin. “Pull the men back,” he said.The soldier hesitated. “But, my king....”“I said back,” Wakanda snapped. His voice carried the kind of weight that crushed obedience from air.The men retreated, boots cracking over ash and stone.When the ridge cleared, Wakanda sank to one knee, the mountain wind pulling at his cloak. The soil was warm where Fiona’s flames had touched it. He pressed his palm against the earth and felt the echo of he
Logan's pov“Keep your head low,” I said, voice rough from the long run.Fiona didn’t reply, her steps cutting through the dirt road, cloak trailing behind her like a shadow. The old border stones of Whiteclaw rose ahead, cracked and half-buried under frost.“This isn’t home,” she murmured.“It was,” I answered.The air smelled wrong, smoke and fear and something sharp beneath it. From beyond the gates came voices, hushed and broken, the kind of murmuring that dies when you turn your head. Faces peered out from half-open doors, vanishing as fast as they appeared.Fiona slowed, jaw tight. “They’re afraid of you.”“They should be,” I said, and kept walking.The gates loomed taller than I remembered, patched with iron, our old crest slashed through and replaced by another, Rowan’s mark, sharp and proud.Fiona’s tone sharpened. “He really took everything.”I stared at the new sigil until my hands ached to tear it down. “Not everything.”A cluster of guards stepped from the shadows, armor
Fiona's pov“Don’t come closer.” My voice yelled against the stone.Logan didn’t stop. His boots ground over gravel, silver eyes catching the faint light of my fire.“You think I’ll let you push me off again?” he said. His tone wasn’t mocking. It was a promise.“You think this bond means you get to cage me like the others?” I spat.He tilted his head, jaw tight. “No cage holds you. Not even me. But you keep pretending you don’t want this.”I threw my flames higher, the cavern walls flashing red. Shadows clawed across his face. “I want answers. Not your touch.”He snorted, wolf bleeding through his laugh. “Liar.”“Logan....”“Don’t.” He closed the last step and seized my wrist. The heat of him met my fire, skin against flame. He didn’t flinch. He squeezed harder, forcing me to feel the roughness of his palm, the tremor in his grip. “I don’t care how much you burn me. I won’t let go.”“You should.”“Then tell me you don’t feel it.” His eyes locked on mine. Not pleading. Demanding. “Tell
Fiona's pov“You feel that?” I asked, voice low, thumb pressed hard against Logan’s hand.“He’s near,” he said. His teeth showed in a half-snarl. The tunnel hummed with it, Wakanda’s flare rolling like distant thunder. The walls vibrated. “Then move,” I said. My fire lifted at my palms without asking, a bright ache that made my skin itch. Logan dragged me forward. His grip wasn’t gentle. We came out into the old council hollow faster than I expected, breath knocking against my ribs. The place smelled of old smoke and wolf fur and history. Paintings ran along the stone: worn faces, a throne, a wolf with a crown. My fingers left glittering trails of light on the murals. The power in this room answered to bloodlines. It hummed. It waited.“Rowan’s voice,” I said. “He’s trying to rally the pack, split them.”Logan’s jaw worked. “He plays politics like he plays with knives, slick and ugly.”We crouched in the shadow of a collapsed pillar. The name Amaiya traveled like cheap wine, sweet,
Fiona's pov“Do you feel that?” I whispered, clutching Logan’s hand tighter.His eyes flicked skyward, silver burning. “He’s here.”The night shuddered. Wakanda’s power rolling over the valley like thunder made flesh. Wolves dropped to their knees, some howling in devotion, others whimpering in fear. My fire flared instinctively, sparks leaping from my skin.Logan growled, his body shielding mine. “Stand tall. Don’t bow. Not to him.”The ground trembled. A crack split through the stone of the council yard as Wakanda stepped from the shadows. Cloak dragging, eyes black as void, he raised one hand and silence smothered the crowd.“My blood,” he intoned, voice carrying like steel. “You stand against me? Against your father?”Logan snarled back, “I stand against your chains. This pack is mine.”Gasps rippled through the wolves. Some shouted his name. Others hissed traitor. The divide widened like a wound.Wakanda’s gaze shifted—to me. His lips curled. “Daughter. Do you come home to kneel?