Chapter 7: Blood on the Snow

The biting arctic wind howled through the narrow mountain pass, whipping ice crystals across Julian’s face like tiny glass needles. His lungs burned with every ragged breath, but he kept moving forward, his heavy boots crunching into the knee-deep drifts of the High Ridge.

He was running out of time.

Without Audrey's secret financial safety net, the Vance Pack was bleeding out. His warriors were abandoning their posts, his trade lines were frozen, and his political standing was nonexistent. But worst of all, the ghost of her memory haunted every corner of his mind.

She carries my child.

The thought drove him through the storm like a fever. He didn't care about the rogue packs surrounding these cliffs. He didn't care that he was stepping directly into the lawless territory of the Shadow Wolves—a ruthless syndicate of banished rogues who recognized no Alpha law. He had to find a way back into the Citadel. He had to make her listen.

A low, guttural growl echoed from the pine trees ahead.

Julian stopped in his tracks, his hand instinctively dropping to the hilt of his hunting blade.

Four massive, pitch-black wolves stepped into the clearing, their glowing crimson eyes cutting through the white haze of the blizzard. Saliva dripped from their bared fangs, steaming as it hit the snow.

Slowly, the largest wolf shifted into human form. A tall, scar-faced man stepped forward, a cruel smirk stretching across his weather-beaten face.

"Well, well," Malakor, the infamous leader of the Shadow Wolves, chuckled darkly. "Look what the blizzard dragged in. The great Alpha Julian of Vance Pack, wandering our borders like a lost puppy."

Julian straightened his spine, forcing his Alpha aura to flare, though it felt hollow and strained. "Out of my way, Malakor. My business is with the Royal Citadel."

Malakor burst into a harsh, mocking laugh. "Your business? Word travels fast in these mountains, Julian. We heard all about the grand court today. You got thrown out on your rear by the Royal Queen herself."

Malakor took two steps closer, his gaze scanning Julian’s disheveled coat and bloodshot eyes. "You lost your mate, your fortune, and your pride in a single morning. You’re not an Alpha anymore, Julian. You’re just target practice."

Before Julian could draw his blade, two black wolves lunged from the shadows.

Julian reacted on instinct, sidestepping the first wolf and driving his blade into its shoulder. But exhaustion and emotional ruin had slowed his reflexes. The second wolf slammed heavy paws against his chest, driving Julian hard onto the frozen stone. The breath exploded from his lungs in a red mist as his blade skittered across the ice, far out of reach.

Malakor stepped over him, pressing a heavy, steel-toed boot firmly onto Julian's throat.

"The Vance Pack territory is wide open now," Malakor sneered, leaning down until his foul breath coated Julian’s cheek. "Once we bleed you dry out here, my wolves will march down the mountain and take what’s left of your home."

Julian struggled against the crushing weight on his windpipe, his vision blurring around the edges as darkness threatened to pull him under. Is this where it ends? he thought bitterly. Dying in the snow while she sits on her throne?

Suddenly, a blinding flash of silver light pierced through the storm.

A heavy iron spear whirled out of the blizzard, impaling the snow an inch from Malakor's foot with a sharp, resonant CLANG.

The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the ground, throwing the rogue wolves off balance.

"Touch him again," a cold, booming voice commanded, "and your head rolls off your shoulders before you take another breath."

Commander Eric emerged from the dense snowstorm, flanked by thirty heavily armored Royal Imperial Guards. Their silver armor gleamed beneath the grey sky, and their drawn broadswords radiated pure, lethal magic.

Malakor stumbled back, his eyes wide with instant terror as he recognized the imperial crest. "The Royal Guard... What business does the Queen have with this trash?!"

Eric didn't answer the rogue. He gestured with his hand, and within seconds, the Royal Guards swarmed the clearing with terrifying speed, forcing the rogue wolves onto their knees at blade-point.

Eric walked over to where Julian lay choking in the snow. He looked down at the bruised, defeated Alpha with cold contempt.

Julian pushed himself up on trembling elbows, gasping for air as he wiped blood from his lip. "Did... did she send you to save me?" he rasped, a desperate glimmer of hope flickering in his chest.

Eric’s expression remained carved from ice.

"Her Imperial Majesty did not send us to save you, Julian," Eric said softly, pulling heavy silver-alloy manacles from his belt. "She sent us to arrest you. You are entering royal custody for trespassing on imperial lands."

Before Julian could protest, Eric snapped the cold metal cuffs around his wrists. The silver instantly suppressed Julian's Alpha power, sending a dull ache through his veins.

"She doesn't want you dying out here in the storm," Eric added, hauling Julian to his feet by his collar. "The Queen has far greater plans for your judgment."