Chapter 3: Shadowpine B¡tch!

King Gunnar yanked the horse sideways. The wolf missed but slammed into the ground and rolled back 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. He 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.

Gunnar's words hung there like smoke. My old life bleeding in. Yeah, no shit. The tent flap snapped open again and Matthías barged in, breathing hard. "They're not just talking. Fifty wolves crossed the river ten minutes ago. Sveinn's leading them himself. They want the girl back or they burn the camp."

Gunnar's face didn't change. He just rolled his shoulders once like he was loosening up for a fistfight. "Numbers?"

"Even. But they're pissed and stupid. We hold."

I stood up fast, arm still throbbing under the rag. "This is because of me. Let me talk to him. Maybe I can — "

"No." Gunnar cut me off without looking. "You're not bargaining chip anymore. You're mine. They come for what's mine, they die trying."

My stomach flipped. Part of me wanted to argue. The rest of me felt that spark flare hotter, like it agreed with him.

*Traitor.* I bit my tongue instead and watched him grab a sword from the corner rack. The blade was plain steel but it looked like it had seen hell and back.

Matthías jerked his thumb at me. "What about her? She stays put?"

Gunnar glanced at me then. Silver eyes locked on mine for a beat longer than needed. "She comes with me. On my horse. If they want her that bad they'll have to go through me first."

He didn't wait for my approval. He just grabbed my good arm and pulled me outside. The camp had turned into controlled chaos. Men were saddling horses, checking knives, a few already half-shifted with claws out and eyes glowing. The fire crackled loud. Somewhere in the trees a wolf howled. I knew it was Shadowpine. It was close enough that my skin crawled with goosebumps.

Gunnar swung up first then hauled me behind him again. My thighs pressed against his back. That pine-and-smoke smell hit me and the spark twisted low in my belly. I hated how good it felt. Hated how my body already knew him better than my brain did.