All Chapters of The Alpha’s Frozen Heart: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Caroline’s POV The snow hammered against the windshield as if some pissed-off giant were hurling fistfuls of ice straight at me. I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles ached, certain my hands would go numb any second—but if I loosened my hold even for a moment, the car would absolutely slide off the road. The storm swallowed my headlights almost instantly, as though the mountains themselves refused to let anyone pass. “Brilliant idea, Caroline,” I muttered under my breath. “Which part of your brain decided this was smart? Driving into the mountains. In a snowstorm. Right before Christmas. Alone.” Driving in the city had never been a problem. At worst, I had to dodge a bit of slush. But here I was at the end of the world, where there was more snow than oxygen and more pine trees than people. My parents’ house couldn’t have been far now. Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself, right up until my foot started shaking on the pedal and a tight, unpleasant knot twi

Rowan’s POV My mother was already yelling before I even stepped fully into the house with the girl in my arms. The whole damn back of the pack probably heard her. She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t need more than two words for everyone to know: trouble is here. And right now, trouble was screaming at me. I set the girl down on the wooden table before my mother could launch into another tirade. Her head lolled to the side with the movement, and that’s when I finally noticed just how soaked in blood her hairline was. Dark streaks ran down her neck. Her clothes were drenched with melted snow. Her chest barely lifted with each breath. Fuck. “Myra!” I snapped. “Now!” Our healer rushed in immediately, cloak tossed back. My mother stood beside her, arms crossed, staring at me like I was personally responsible for summoning the entire snowstorm. “Tilt her head,” Myra instructed as she leaned over the girl. “There’s a contusion on her nape. Deep.” “No surprise,” I muttered.

Rowan’s POV The mountain is never quiet at night. People think snow swallows sound—but that’s complete bullshit. Snow reflects it. Every soft crunch, every distant growl, the groaning trees in the icy wind… and of course, my own thoughts, which were snarling far too loudly in my skull. I stood on watch outside the cabin, arms crossed, staring into the dark forest. The wolf under my skin paced restlessly, clawing, growling, refusing to settle. I was angry. At myself. At the girl. At fate. At everything. What the fuck did you do, Rowan? You brought home a stranger. A girl you can’t seem to pull yourself away from. Snow drifted quietly, sparkling in the moonlight. The air was sharp, colder than during the day. It didn’t bother me. Cold was home. Warmth was the problem. Specifically, the warmth she brought into the house. Caroline. My whole damn body tightened just thinking her name. Her sarcastic, sharp little mouth. Her eyes—fragile and fierce all at once. An

Caroline’s POV I woke up knowing that something was seriously wrong with my body. Not in the “oh great, my head hurts” way. That part was true too. My neck throbbed like someone was hammering a nail into it from the inside. But there was something else layered on top of it. Everything felt too sharp. The sounds. The smells. Even the air itself. The crackle of the fire in the fireplace sounded so loud it felt like it was happening right next to my ear. The cabin creaked as the beams shifted in the cold, each sound so clear I thought someone was walking around. And then there were the smells. Wood. Smoke. Herbs. Damp fabric. And something else. Something strong and metallic and male, a scent that made my stomach react in a way I didn’t appreciate. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. Okay. I’m not in my car. I’m not in my own bed. And I’m definitely not in a hospital, which would have made sense after crashing on a mountain road. The bed beneath me was too war

Caroline’s POV After Rowan left and the door clicked shut behind him, the silence was not comforting. It was heavy, as if the room itself were holding its breath. For several minutes I just lay on my back, staring at the dark beams of the ceiling. My heart was still pounding hard against my ribs, not from fear, at least that was what I told myself, but from anger. Or irritation. Or from that confusing, burning heat his presence had left behind in the air, like some invisible electrical charge clinging to my skin. “Just a problem,” I muttered quietly, repeating his words into the half-darkness, my voice scraping hoarsely off the walls. “Of course. And you’re just a walking ego with legs, a control freak wrapped in muscles.” I tried to turn onto my side and braced myself for the pain. I expected the sharp stab at the base of my skull, the bruised ache along my ribs, the muscle soreness that