Chapter 1

Author's Note: Several characters in this book are native Russian speakers. To avoid repetitive clarifications throughout the text, assume the following:

If a conversation takes place between characters who are native Russian speakers, they are speaking in Russian unless otherwise stated.

If a conversation includes one or more native English speakers, it is in English unless otherwise indicated.

This approach allows for a more seamless reading experience while maintaining linguistic authenticity.

***

THERESA

Half-full. Between the two options, that’s the perspective I preferred. It’s not that bad things never happened—I was only mortal after all. But attitude was everything. And a good attitude was particularly important at that very moment as the crushing weight of a sandbag dug into my shoulders, snow crunched under my winter hiking boots, and wind cut at the exposed sliver of skin between my gaiter and hat. I climbed, each step more precarious than the last on the icy slope.

"Faster!" my father’s voice telepathically barked through mindlink, snapping me out of my thoughts. His tone was as uncompromising as the Alaskan cold we were battling. “College made you weak.” Retirement hadn’t softened him one bit. Although my brother Tyce had succeeded him, the notorious former Alpha Lance wasn’t one to let his legacy fade quietly.

I gritted my teeth and redistributed some of the weight on my shoulders. The heavy as duck sandbag I was carrying had to be at least 100 pounds. None of this was safe. If I slipped, I’d tumble down the mountain like an avalanche in freefall. I could already imagine my father’s dismissive reaction. “You’ll heal,” is all he’d say.

He wasn't wrong. But it's not like it didn't hurt like all heck.

I am tough. I am strong. I am alpha female! The silent mantra carried me forward, while outwardly I panted like a dog.

Above me, my father’s wolf form moved effortlessly over the rocks, his huge, lethal claws cutting through the snow and getting a good grasp on the frozen earth. He stared me down with his sharp, unforgiving amber eyes. While some people remarked I had the same eyes, they’d often follow the comment stating that mine were somehow gentler, friendlier. His gaze was anything but. If there was a time when my father had been warmer, I’d never known it.

My shoulders and upper arms burned.

"Pick it up!" he snapped again, and I let out a low growl, forcing my legs to move.

By the time we reached the summit of the small mountain, I could barely feel my limbs from both the intense climb and the merciless winter biting at them. While most of Alaska was known for having hard winters, up north, where we were, was particularly unrelenting.

My father motioned for me to drop the sandbag. I heaved it off my shoulders and I let it fall with a thud before collapsing into the snow. I readjusted my gaiter, thankful he wouldn't question why I was so covered up at this time of year. I didn't know how long I'd be able to hold my family off from finding out what I’d done.

I glanced down. Unfortunately, even with my night vision, I couldn't see much. I hadn't seen the sun since I got home for winter break, and it would be almost another month until it rose again. My gaze wandered to the sky. In the perpetual night of winter, the stars shone brilliantly, a sharp contrast to the cold, dark earth below.

My peaceful moment was cut short as I was back on my feet, hoisting the sandbag onto my shoulders, with Dad mushing me back down the slope. The trek down was no less grueling. The icy ground threatened to betray my footing at every step.

When we finally made it back to the snowmobile, I promptly turned away before my dad could shift back into his human form without warning. Being so used to being among pack warriors who thought nothing of constant shifting, he'd often forget how uncomfortable it was for me to see him naked. I'd, very regrettably, caught him unclothed far too many times.

The bzzt of his snowsuit zipper informed me that it was safe to look again. I turned around and strapped the sandbag to the back of the snowmobile. My muscles throbbed, each movement sending an aching protest through my limbs, begging for relief after the hours of relentless strain.

"Not bad today, Terri." His grudging approval was rare and, nevertheless, came with a barb. "But you're not as strong as you were before you left. I'm disappointed. You'd promised to keep up with your training."

"I have been." I tried not to sound defensive. "It's just hard sometimes. I have classes, homework, exams—"

"And friends and drinking," he cut in, throwing me a sharp look. "I'm not stupid. I know what goes on at college campuses. Figure it out next semester. I don't want to have this discussion again in the spring."

I nodded and readjusted my gaiter to hide the flush of irritation rising in my cheeks. He climbed onto the snowmobile, and I followed, the engine’s growl drowning out any lingering argument as we sped away. The cold wind cut across my face as I looked up at the dark, starry sky while we drove back toward the pack.

Just as the large gates came into view, my phone vibrated in my coat pocket, signaling that we were back in range of the cell tower on our pack land.

My dad hopped off the snowmobile as soon as we parked, grabbing the sandbag to bring inside on his way in. At least he wasn't going to make me do that too. Just before disappearing into the packhouse, in a rare act of fatherly affection, he called over his shoulder, “Hurry inside. It’s freezing.”

I stayed behind for a moment and pulled out my phone.

The screen lit up with three new messages from an unknown number.

              Unknown: I know you’re back

              Unknown: The past can't be changed

              Unknown: You’re not perfect either

My chest tightened, my lungs contracted, and a chill crept down my spine. My fingers trembled as I stared at the screen. My breath quickened, fogging the frigid air. I impulsively glanced around, the eerie feeling of being watched taking hold of me. My thumb hovered over the block button, but I hesitated. Blocking the number wouldn’t stop him. He always found a way.

He doesn’t have power over me. I won’t let him. He’s already taken enough.

After a steady breath in and out, I hit ‘block’ and shoved the phone back into my pocket.

The warmth that greeted me in the packhouse was a welcome relief. I peeled off most of my heavy layers but left my gaiter on. The smell of food guided me to the dining room, where my mother sat at the long table, picking at her plate.

"Dinner’s almost ready, Terri," Tasha, our cook, called from the kitchen. I slid into a seat across from my mom, and Tasha appeared moments later.

The water with lemon was brought out first, shortly followed by a salad with some chicken strips on top. I sniffed the dressing. Honestly, I didn't have to do that. I already knew it would be low-fat. Altogether, the meal she placed in front of me couldn’t be more than 800 calories. Mostly devoid of carbs and flavor. I’d definitely be raiding the pantry later for a couple of my brother’s protein bars—when no one was watching.

“I let Tasha know what you’d like,” my mom stated, as if it were me that chose this meal.

“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile.

"Alpha Nikola’s due back soon from his land search," my mom remarked. "Just in time for the big hunt." She said it with as little emotion as the food had flavor. Considering what had happened to my mom's former pack months earlier, forcing them to move here from halfway across the world, I'd expected more grieving.

I nodded in response.

"He’s staying with us,” she added, with an odd glint in her eye.

My fork hovered over my plate. “You mentioned.”

“He’s an alpha,” she continued. “It’s only right to show him proper respect. We found families to host everyone else, but I made sure the alpha stayed in the packhouse where he belongs.”

"Of course,” I said cautiously, “I'd never consider being disrespectful to an alpha.”

Her astute and assessing eyes lingered on me. “He’s single, you know.”

I set my fork down, biting back an annoyed groan. Normally, this was the part where she warned me to keep my distance from unmated men. "Okay I'll—"

"I know your father insists you wait for your fated mate," she interrupted, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial murmur. "But if someone of higher rank takes an interest…" She trailed off, her lips curving into a small smile. "Well, how would he know the difference?"

I blinked.

Before I could respond, she rose abruptly, leaving her empty plate behind as she disappeared down the hall.

I sat there, stunned, her words ringing in my ears.

Had my mother just suggested what I thought she’d suggested?