LOGINKeon’s POV:
The hallway was quieter than usual, almost unsettling. I had been pacing before anyone dared disturb me. Even the torches seemed dim tonight, their flames flickering like hesitant watchers. My hands flexed, curling into fists, then relaxing again. Nothing I did seemed to ease the tension in my chest. I had spent the better part of the last day running every scenario through my head. And yet, I couldn’t shake the voice of Derrick in my mind. “Your efforts are in vain brother.” Well the method he proposed puts her in danger. I scowl. I refused to let him be right. Absolutely refused. Winter wasn’t a pawn. She wasn’t bait. She was barely alive because of our people, because of me, but she would remain safe if I had anything to say about it. The report sat on the table before me, neatly organized. Guards’ positions during the attack. Their exact movements. The timings. Every piece of data meticulously gathered by the spies I had sent. I had delayed asking about Winter’s past life until after I sorted out whatever this was. I needed context, history, to anticipate threats, and I had put it on hold. Now was not the time. Not until I knew she was safe. But something nagged at me. The small inconsistency I had initially glossed over, one of those things that seemed insignificant at first. I should have ignored it. I always ignored minor details when life was in danger. Yet tonight, my instincts refused. Something didn’t sit right, like a shadow I could not ignore. I stared at the page again, reading the patrol logs for the third time. It was all there. Times, locations, reports filed by the men themselves. Richard with Carter, then later on the same day, another shift with Logan, which ended just an hour before the attack. I resist the urge to slam my fist onto the table. How is this even possible? I knew every guard by name, and I am the one who created the rooster for their work in the first place. Call me an overthinker, but an inconsistent report that doesn't match previous records the day Winter is hurt is a big red flag. My mindlink buzzes almost immediately, Derrick’s calm, unbending voice cuts through my thoughts. “You know this won’t change anything.” I closed my eyes, resisting the pull of his presence. Don’t you dare tell me my plans are wrong, Derrick. “I'm sorry but they are. You should-’’ His voice is sharp but composed. “No Derrick, every method you propose only sets her up as bait. You know it.” I grit my teeth. I refuse to let her be bait. “Then what? he asked, his tone smooth but piercing. What is your alternative, Alpha? Do you plan to stand in the middle of the forest with your wolves while someone tries to kill her again?” I shake my head, like he could feel the motion. No. But I will not manipulate her life into some trap to catch an attacker. She is not a tool. And yet, Derrick’s presence pressed against my thoughts like weight “You send spies into her past, you map every guard’s movements, you try to anticipate threats. That is exactly what you are doing. You just hide it behind good intentions.” I slammed my hand against the table again. Good intentions keep her alive! “Yeah, and how far have those intentions brought you brother? Good intentions do not prevent death,” he replied coolly. “You think controlling everything, knowing everything, stops the world from being unpredictable? It doesn’t. You will never see everything, Keon. As powerful as you are, you are not omnipotent, or omnipresent.” His words made my chest tighten. They always did. But I refused to yield. I would not. I couldn’t. I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. I could feel the tension of my wolves still lingering inside me, their energy restless, like mine. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to push back the unease creeping into my mind. Winter. She was supposed to be unconscious, safe, protected. I should be there beside her. But instead, I was here, pacing, battling someone over methods and control while she rested. With my brother. My chest ached with guilt and frustration at the same time. I exhaled, refusing to let Derrick feel the truth about my thoughts and emotions. If he did he’d know this was less about pride and something deeper. So much deeper. I channel my inner mind so it looks like it’s a leader trying to keep all his people safe. Not a man trying to protect his soulmate. Do you understand now? I said mentally, focusing on the clarity of my intent. She cannot be a pawn. She cannot be bait. Not now, not ever. I do, he says after a pause. But your methods will not work. Your emotions cloud your judgment. You’re letting your pride affect your efficiency. Put a stop to it. I clench my jaw. So what would you do? Huh? Would you just let her lie there, vulnerable, and wait for someone to finish what they started? “Absolutely not. No. I’d make sure she is safe, Not by trying to control every angle. Not by trying to anticipate impossible outcomes. By focusing on her here, her now. By preventing harm in the immediate, not chasing shadows.” I growl softly. And you think that’s enough? “It’s the only thing that matters, he says firmly. Everything else is a distraction.” My pulse hammers in my chest, anger, fear, and guilt warping together. I wanted to argue. I wanted to insist that my way would save her, that Derrick’s way was too passive. But he was right, and that fact burned. I ran my hand across my face, exhaling slowly. My mindlink stayed open, and we circled each other silently, exchanging thoughts in a battle as tense and sharp as any physical confrontation. I felt his patience as a weight against my urgency. I felt his reasoning as a force that grounded me even as it frustrated me. And yet, I could not give up control entirely. Not now. Not while Winter lay vulnerable, so close yet still needing protection. I am Alpha for a reason. Finally, I draw a slow breath. I will not set her as bait. That is final. But I will not stand aside either. “Then what will you do?” he asks. I will watch, train, and be ready. But she is not a tool for anyone’s plans, not mine, not yours. His silence is heavy. For a long moment, I felt the tension of the mindlink thrum like a living thing between us, an invisible web of thought, desire, and conflict. Then a flicker of approval, faint but unmistakable. “Very well brother.” I exhaled, letting the tension flow out of me in a slow stream. But I could feel tension lurking beneath the surface, a warning that nothing was resolved. The hallway creaks. The quiet moment is broken as I shift my stance, my eyes snapping toward the open doorway. Ariana. She’s on her feet headed for the hallway near where I was. Winter is still inside, with Derrick at her side, still leaning with that quiet confidence. The room is calm, too calm, a fragile peace that could shatter in an instant. I felt Derrick’s mindlink presence push gently against mine, as if probing, teasing, testing. His calmness was infuriating. I turned sharply, my gaze snapping back to him. Do not push me now. “I am not,” he replied, deceptively casual. “I am watching. Just as you are.” I grit my teeth. This silent war of thoughts, and will was exhausting, but I could not yield. I could not let him think he understood, because he did not. Not at all. Not even a little bit. I exhale, forcing myself to take a step back, letting the invisible threads of our mindlink ease slightly. My attention shifted toward the room. Ariana was going to enter. I felt the weight of responsibility settle heavily onto me. I put away all my worries for at least a while. If I listened well enough, I could hear her breaths. She's tired, but she doesn't feel so scared anymore. That fragile moment of peace she has, I wanted it for her forever. And I could not let it shatter. I think about Derrick, our discussion, meeting his unwavering presence through the mindlink, and then turning fully toward the door as Ariana knocks the door. I calm my nerves, channeling my energy toward what mattered most. Keeping her safe. I would not fail her again. Not now. Not ever. I allow Ariana to enter the room. She pushes the door fully open and steps inside.Keon's POV: The chamber had become so quiet that the steady, low hiss of the burning torches seemed to echo off the vaulted ceiling. Not a single chair scraped against the stone floor. Not a single person shifted their weight. Even the oldest, most battle-hardened wolves in the room knew better than to interrupt Derrick once he reached this point. He stood over the old Delta without crowding him. He didn’t need to. The sheer difference in height and presence alone was enough to pin the man in place. "...Let's start again," Derrick’s voice remained cool, almost conversational, cutting through the heavy air. "Where were you yesterday?" The old Delta swallowed hard, his eyes darting briefly toward the ancient black granite table before locking back onto the prince. "I... I already submitted my official report, Prince Derrick—" "You did," Derrick agreed with a slow nod, his expression entirely unreadable. "And it was false." A sharp muscle jumped beneath the old wolf's jaw, th
Keon's POV: The torch fell back into place with a heavy, metallic thud as the massive oak doors slammed shut behind us. This room, its history ran deep into the very bedrock of our territory. It was a space built on ancient foundations, a chamber designed for a past that our ancestors had tried to bury. Four Clans. One table. Some clans had stood the test of time, adapting and surviving the turning of the ages, while others had vanished completely into ash and memory. Yet, through the rise and fall of regimes, one thing had remained completely constant. The table remained. Carved from a single, gargantuan slab of black granite, its polished surface formed an enormous, intricate compass. North. East. West. South. Time and centuries of heavy use had weathered the edges smooth, but not even the turning of the world had managed to shift its direction. Legend claimed that before the Great Wolf-Witch War, the stone compass had turned freely, spinning on a mystical axis to refl
Keon's POV:Sleep had become a courtesy I occasionally extended to my body. Nothing more.The dawn hadn't yet broken, but the palace was already beginning to stir beneath my window. Guards changed shifts below in practiced, rhythmic silence, their armor clinking softly in the heavy air. Life continued. It always did, entirely indifferent to the wreckage left in its wake.I rested both hands against the cold stone railing of the balcony, leaning my weight forward and letting the rain-soaked wind strike my face. The icy droplets bit into my skin, but it still wasn't enough to drown out her scent.Gods. Even after washing. Even after changing clothes twice. Even after forcing myself to stay on the absolute opposite side of the palace, away from her wing of the castle, she lingered. Not on my skin, where the physical trace could be scrubbed away, but somewhere deep beneath it. The bond pulsed quietly beneath my ribs, simply existing.I closed my eyes, a heavy sigh escaping into the dark
Winter's POV: Neither of us spoke for several minutes. The fire had burned lower in the hearth, leaving the room bathed in soft amber and silver where the moonlight slipped through the curtains. Somewhere outside, rain tapped gently against the stone balcony, a rhythmic, soothing backdrop to the storm that had just settled between us. Sabrina broke the silence first. "...Can I see it?" I looked up, momentarily taken aback by the request. "The mark," she clarified, speaking carefully this time, as if handling something incredibly fragile. "The soulmate mark." For a heartbeat, I simply stared at her. The secret had been hidden under layers of fabric and concealment charms for so long that revealing it felt like exposing a raw nerve. Then, without a word, I nodded. I stood from the chair, suddenly very aware of my own body again. Derrick's oversized shirt hung loosely around my frame, the soft fabric brushing against my thighs as I turned around, turning my back to her. "It isn'
Winter's POV I lowered my eyes, watching the moonlight ripple faintly across the surface of the nearly finished tea in Sabrina’s cup. The pale liquid caught the silver light, trembling slightly with every heavy breath I took. I had never narrated this to anyone other than Mother, and now that it was finally out in the open, the space between us felt entirely rearranged. "I don't think I told you everything," I murmured, my voice barely carrying over the crackle of the hearth. Sabrina had just taken another bite of the berry dessert. She paused mid-chew, her sharp gaze locking onto mine as she slowly swallowed. She set her spoon down with deliberate care, the soft clink against the ceramic sounding remarkably loud in the quiet room. "Considering we've spent the last hour discussing what might become the greatest diplomatic headache of the century," she said, her dry tone laced with a sudden, underlying tension, "that's a rather concerning sentence. What didn't you tell me?" I dr
Winter's POV I pause as a sudden realization chills me. "Did he—" She nods, her expression turning somber. "Keon told me about your second attack. He knew I needed to understand the full scope of the danger we're dealing with if I'm going to help get it out." She takes another bite from the dish tray, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. "As I was saying. The first thing Derrick asked when we arrived was about you. Not the treaty, not the perimeter security, not the casualty report. You. Wonder why?" I tilt my head in confusion, my brows furrowing. I think about what she'd just said earlier, trying to piece the puzzle together, but the logic feels just out of reach. "I don't get it. Why would a scent marker make him drop his guard?" She sighs. "Sometimes I forget you're not a werewolf. In our world Winter, you don't live in a world governed by instincts you can't see, smell or feel. Wolves rule, live by, and establish dominance by their senses, one of which is the sense of
Winter’s POV When the guard leaves, Keon exhales loudly. He doesn't have to say anything for me to feel all of his emotions. The way his emotions fight against each other like waves at sea. His back faces me, while he stares down the window, deep in thought. So am I. Mother never, and
Keon’s POV: The room goes completely still after the guard speaks. “She says she’s here for her daughter.” For one brief second, nobody moves. Not the guard. Not Winter. Not even me. The words settle heavily into the air, pressing against the walls of the room until it feels difficult
Winter’s POV The room smells faintly like herbs. Not the soft floral kind Sabrina usually uses when treating small injuries. This scent is sharper. Cleaner. Something medicinal that lingers heavily in the air and settles at the back of my throat every time I breathe too deeply. I sit against t
Winter’s POV At first, I think I am awake. Everything feels too real not to be. The cold beneath my feet. The sound of water moving somewhere nearby. The sharp wind brushing against my skin hard enough to make my arms ache. But when I look around, nothing makes sense. The world is dark.







