Chapter 3

Reya

Being stuck in a carriage for three days is agonizing. I’ve never experienced such dull torture and meanwhile, it hangs over my head how horrible my life could be at the Blackwood Pack. It makes me wish the journey was longer.

Or that maybe I could’ve escaped this fate all together.

I really thought I found my happily ever after, but even my mate betrayed me. I look towards the ceiling of the wooden carriage and murmur to the moon goddess, “You picked a real good one for me, huh?”

The carriage grinds to a halt and my whole body lurches from it. I look out the window, the warm green fields from the south are gone, now there’s nothing but dark pine trees and a freezing mountain rainstorm that looks horrid.

The driver doesn’t open my door, he just shouts from his high seat, “We do not move closer, Lady Reya. The Blackwood border guards told us to drop you right here at the outer iron gates. We must leave immediately, good luck.”

I grab the handle of my small suitcase and I push the door open on my own. The second my cheap shoes touch the ground, they sink into freezing black mud. The icy rain drenchs my coat immediately and my whole body shivers from the cold. The driver rushes to turn around, speeding down the mountain pass without looking back. I’ve been left in a snow storm like a piece of garbage.

I wipe the freezing rain from my eyes and look forward, instantly halting my steps. On the other side of the massive stone and iron gates is a man who looks terrifying. 

He has to be at least six-foot-three and has a massive, muscular frame that makes him look like a solid wall. He wears a heavy, dark fur cloak that is soaked from the storm. His short, pitch black hair is messy, and his sharp jawline is covered in dark stubble.

But his eyes make my breath catch in my throat. They are a piercing, glowing ice blue and they loow ruthless. Dark tribal warrior tattoos snake up his thick neck and disappear under that sharp jaw.

The monster of the North. Alpha Killian Blackwood.

He stands there, unmoving in the pouring ice and rain, staring down at me through the iron bars as if I’m a bad delivery.

He knows what happened. He knows that he has been swindled by my greedy, shitty parents. He does not open the gate for me, he just watches as I stand there in the freezing rain.

His voice is deep and gravelly and hostile, “You are not the white wolf.”

I grip the handle of my suitcase tighter, trying with all my might not to shake from the cold. I stare back into his icy eyes as I retort, “Astute observation, Alpha. I see the rumors of northern intelligence is vastly exaggerated. Should I have worn a nametag?”

As his eyes narrow into slits, I realize I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut. He’s an Alpha and even though I’ve had a horrendous few days, he has the power to make my life so much worse. 

A dangerous quiet tension fills the air and suddenly, a heavy suffocating pressure explodes from his body. This is his Alpha aura and it slams into my body like a physical punch. This dominant energy is designed to force any normal omega to beg on their knees for mercy.

But, I’m not some random weak omega. The second his power touches me, my ancient shadow magic wakes up. It coils around my core, absorbing the pressure and neutralizing it. I don’t bow my head. I do not drop to my knees.

I stand there, perfectly straight in the mud, staring back at him with a blank expression. 

Genuine surprise crosses Killian’s face, but he hides it. His massive, scarred hand reaches out and unlocks the heavy gate and he pushes it open with a loud screech.

“Your family thinks they can play games with the Blackwood Pack.” He growls out, stepping into my personal space. He looms over me, smelling like rain, steel, and wild mint. He continues, “They kept the pure white wolf south and sent me a discarded, plain omega instead. They broke the treaty.”

I cross my arms over my chest, grateful for the minor warmth my hands feel as I retort, “If you have a problem with the contract, take it up with Alpha Thomas. I was forced into the carriage. I didn’t choose to come to this frozen wasteland for fun.”

His voice drops to a dangerous whisper, “Watch your mouth, girl. You are not a guest in my territory. You are a political prisoner. Your father sent me a fraud and I have no intention of treating you like a true Luna.”

"Good, because I have zero intention of acting like your wife," I shot back instantly. "So we are completely on the same page. Now, are you going to keep me standing in the mud all night, or does this stone fortress actually have a roof?" 

Killian stares at me for a long, quiet moment. His ice-blue eyes are full of intensity as he scans my face, searching for any sign of fear or weakness. I use my defensive sarcasm like a shield, and I will not cower from him.

He snatches my suitcase from my hand, turning and walking to the dark stone fortress that looms behind the thick mist.

Killian commands without looking at me, “Follow me. And stay out of my sight. The North has no room for soft, whiny southern princesses. If you break under the weight of our winter then I will not waste my time in an attempt to save you.”

I follow him through the heavy wooden doors of the fortress. I expected a grand ballroom or a warm parlor like the ones we had in the south, but this place is built for one thing - war.

The stone walls are bare, torches flicker in the hallways, the air smells like smoke and wet fur.

Killian doesn’t lead me to the main living areas, instead he takes me into the deep cold stone corridors of the isolated guard wing, far away from anyone else. 

He stops in front of a small wooden door, pushing it open, and he throws my suitcase inside.

I look around, a dull ache inside my chest. This space is barren and has nothing but a hard small bed, a thin blanket, a tiny wooden chair, and a washbasin in the corner.

There is no fire to keep the winter chill away and the walls are cold to the touch.

Killian’s voice is colder than this weather ever could be, “This is your room. You do not enter the main pack house without my permission. My warriors do not trust outsiders and they like southern traitors even less.”

I walk over to the bed and sit down on the hard mattress, looking up at him with a sarcastic smile. "Wow. Thank you for the five-star hospitality, Alpha Killian. The view of the blank stone wall is truly stunning."

He doesn’t appreciate my joke, his expression remains stoic as he jaw clenches tightly as he stares down at me. He shakes his head, “Save your smart mouth for someone who cares, Reya. You are a useless pawn in a game your father already lost. You are completely alone up here."

"I have been alone my entire life," I respond, my voice dropping its sarcastic edge for a brief second, turning flat and honest. "A cold room isn't going to make me cry."

Killian steps back into the corridor, his heavy hand gripping the edge of the wooden door. His ice-blue eyes flash with brutal, unyielding light as he delivers his final warning. "We will see how tough you are when the real winter storms hit us next week. Remember your place here, girl. You are a mere political prisoner under my thumb, and if you break under the harsh winter, I will gladly send your frozen corpse back to your family in a casket."