The first thing Sapphire felt was the cold.
It sank into her bones before her mind even surfaced from the darkness, a chill so deep it seemed to whisper through her blood. She shivered violently, lashes fluttering open to a ceiling carved of black stone. The room around her was dimly lit, shadows stretching long and thin across the walls. Everything smelled of frost and metal—sterile, lifeless.
Her wrists throbbed. When she looked down, she saw faint bruises where the silver had burned her, pale blue veins glowing faintly beneath her skin. Someone had cleaned the wounds and dressed her in a long ivory gown, its silk soft but heavy.
A prison disguised as luxury.
She pushed herself upright, ignoring the spinning in her head. The bed beneath her was enormous, draped in silvery sheets that shimmered faintly like starlight. Across the room, tall glass doors opened to a balcony, their panes rimed with frost. Beyond them, a landscape of endless snow and black pines stretched into mist.
Fredrick's territory.
Her wolf stirred uneasily. It feels dead here.
"Yes," she whispered aloud. "Even the air doesn't breathe."
The door to her chamber opened with a slow creak. Two guards stepped in—massive, dark-eyed, their armor matte black. Between them walked a man whose presence made the entire room still.
Fredrick.
He wasn't what she expected.
He looked young—no older than thirty, perhaps—his features elegant, almost beautiful in a way that made her skin crawl. His hair was silver-black, falling neatly to his collar. His eyes, though... those eyes were wrong. They were a shade of gray that should have been soft, yet they held nothing. No spark. No soul.
The devil in perfect skin.
He smiled as he approached, the curve of his lips graceful, rehearsed. "You're awake."
Sapphire stiffened. "Unfortunately."
"Unfortunate for whom, little wolf?" His tone was smooth, almost teasing. "For me, who has waited too long to see you again? Or for you, who can no longer hide?"
"I don't hide," she said coldly. "You abducted me."
"Rescued," he corrected, stepping closer. "You were trapped in the hands of a soldier who doesn't deserve you. I simply brought you home."
Her laugh was sharp, bitter. "This isn't home. It's hell."
Fredrick's smile didn't falter, but something flickered in his eyes—something sharp and fleeting. "Hell? I've built you a palace."
He gestured around the room. She followed the motion, seeing it now for what it was: beauty without warmth, perfection without life. Every line was precise, every object placed with obsessive care. A masterpiece crafted by madness.
"You built yourself a cage," she murmured. "And then filled it with ghosts."
For the briefest instant, his expression cracked. Then he laughed softly. "Perhaps I did."
He moved closer, so close she could see the faint silver veins beneath his skin—the residue of whatever darkness he'd bargained with. His scent was sharp and cold, like crushed snow under iron.
"Why me?" she demanded. "Why this obsession?"
Fredrick tilted his head. "Because you were mine before he ever touched you."
Her pulse jumped. "That's a lie."
"Is it?" He reached up, fingertips grazing her cheek. His touch was ice. "Tell me you don't feel it. The pull. The bond buried beneath what he forged."
She jerked back, rage flooding her veins. "My bond is real. Dominic is my mate. You're nothing but a shadow clinging to a corpse of love you destroyed."
For a moment, silence filled the room. Then, slowly, Fredrick's smile returned—softer now, colder. "Ah, little wolf. You still believe love is enough to protect you."
She lifted her chin. "It always is."
Fredrick's gaze darkened. "Then let's see how long that faith lasts."
He turned to the guards. "Leave us."
The men hesitated. One of them—the younger—glanced at Sapphire with something almost like pity. Fredrick's voice snapped like a whip. "Now."
The door closed behind them, sealing her in with him.
Fredrick studied her for a long time, the silence stretching until it felt suffocating. When he finally spoke, his voice had lost its softness. "You have no idea what you are, do you?"
"I know exactly who I am."
He stepped close enough that she could feel the cold radiating off him. "No. You know what they told you—a royal, a mate, a fighter. But there's more. You're the last of the white wolves, the only one whose blood can bind a fallen king. My blood."
Her heart stuttered. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." He smiled faintly. "But I'm also right."
She stared at him, realization dawning like ice water down her spine. "You killed them all."
He didn't deny it. "A necessary sacrifice."
Sapphire's voice trembled with fury. "You slaughtered your own kind for power."
"I freed them from weakness," he said simply. "Love, compassion—those are the chains that broke us. But you... you could rebuild what was lost. If you'd just accept me."
"Never."
Fredrick sighed, almost wistful. "I thought you might say that."
He turned away, walking toward the balcony. The doors opened at his approach, frost crawling up the glass like veins. "You'll see, Sapphire. They all do, in the end. Love fades. Loyalty breaks. But power..." He looked back at her, his expression utterly calm. "Power endures."
She held his gaze. "You have no power over me."
His lips curved. "Don't I?"
Before she could respond, he lifted a hand. A pulse of cold energy rippled through the room, invisible but heavy. Sapphire gasped, clutching her chest as the bond to Dominic flickered, dimming until it was barely a spark.
Her wolf howled inside her. He's cutting us off!
Fredrick watched her struggle with quiet fascination. "You feel it, don't you? The silence."
She fell to her knees, breath shaking. "Stop—"
He crouched in front of her, his hand hovering near her throat. "I could end it right now. Sever the bond completely. But where would be the fun in that? I want you to remember him—every touch, every promise—as it fades."
Sapphire met his gaze, fury igniting even through her fear. "You'll never break what's sacred."
Fredrick leaned in, his voice a whisper. "Everything breaks, little wolf. Especially hearts."
He stood, stepping back as the energy released her. She gasped for air, clutching the floor until her trembling eased.
"Get some rest," he said lightly. "You'll need your strength. Tomorrow, we dine together."
And then he was gone.
Sapphire remained kneeling, staring at the spot where he'd stood. The room seemed darker now, colder. She pressed a hand over her heart, searching for the faint echo of Dominic through their bond.
It was still there—weak, but alive.
She closed her eyes, tears sliding down her cheeks. He can't win. He won't.
Her wolf stirred weakly, whispering in the darkness. We are not his.
Sapphire exhaled, voice raw but steady. "No. We never will be."
Outside, snow began to fall, each flake whispering against the glass like tiny ghosts.
And in the distance, through the thinning veil of the bond, Dominic's heartbeat answered—faint but steady, a promise pulsing through the night.
The night deepened, pressing against the windows like a living thing. Sapphire couldn't sleep. The silence was too sharp—too aware. She wrapped herself in one of the fur blankets and paced the edges of her gilded cage.
Every sound in the mansion seemed amplified: the crackle of fire, the creak of ancient wood, the faint echo of footsteps far down the hall. Her wolf paced inside her too, restless and uneasy. He's watching.
She glanced toward the tall mirror by the bed and froze. Her reflection looked back, pale and drawn—but behind her, for a split heartbeat, she saw another face. His. Standing in the shadows, smiling faintly, those silver-gray eyes gleaming like cold steel.
She spun around. Nothing. The space was empty. Only the whisper of air remained, carrying his scent—snow and smoke and something burnt underneath.
She pressed a hand to her chest, forcing herself to breathe. You're not losing your mind. You're just trapped in one.
The door opened again, quietly this time. A woman entered—a young omega dressed in simple gray, her head bowed. She carried a tray with steaming broth and dark bread.
Sapphire blinked. "What's your name?"
The girl startled, eyes darting up briefly before dropping again. "Elara, my lady."
"Don't call me that," Sapphire said softly. "Just Sapphire."
Elara hesitated. "He... wouldn't like that."
"I don't care what he likes."
The girl's hands trembled as she set the tray down. "Please, eat something. You'll need your strength."
Sapphire studied her. The faint bruises on her wrists, the hollow beneath her eyes. Fear etched into every motion. "How long have you been here?"
Elara swallowed. "Since I was twelve."
"And how old are you now?"
"Twenty."
Eight years. Eight years of this cold silence, of serving a monster. Sapphire's stomach knotted. "Has anyone ever tried to leave?"
Elara's lips parted, then pressed shut again. "Some did." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "They didn't get far."
Sapphire reached across the tray and caught her hand. "You won't be here forever. I promise."
Elara's gaze flicked toward the door in panic. "You shouldn't say things like that."
"I mean it."
Something flickered in the girl's expression—hope, faint and fragile. Then she hurried away, leaving Sapphire alone once more.
For a long while, she sat in silence, staring at the untouched food. Her thoughts wandered back to Dominic—his warmth, his laughter, the steady strength in his arms. The way he'd once said her name like it was a secret only he knew how to keep.
She pressed her palm over her belly, whispering, "We'll get out. Both of us. He'll find us."
The bond between them pulsed faintly, as if answering. A flicker of heat in the cold. But then the chill returned stronger, as though the walls themselves were trying to swallow that light whole.
She rose, moving toward the balcony. The glass doors opened soundlessly. The night air bit her skin, sharp and unforgiving. The forest below stretched endless, its trees black against the snow. Somewhere out there, wolves howled—but none of their voices belonged to Dominic.
Then she heard him again—Fredrick—his voice drifting through the wind like a whisper carried on ice.
"You'll break before the moon turns twice."
She gripped the railing until her knuckles whitened. "Not in this lifetime."
Behind her, the air shifted. She turned—and there he was, leaning in the doorway, a shadow cut from moonlight and malice.
"You shouldn't wander to the edge," he said lightly. "It's a long drop."
"You wouldn't let me fall," she said, forcing her tone flat. "You're too obsessed with owning what isn't yours."
He chuckled. "Perhaps. But the view of you against the snow almost makes this worth it."
"Go to hell."
He stepped closer. "Already there, little wolf. You're the only light left in it."
She recoiled. "You disgust me."
Fredrick stopped just short of her reach, studying her face as though memorizing each breath. "You look like her," he said softly. "The woman I loved before she died. The woman who betrayed me."
Sapphire blinked, startled by the flicker of grief in his tone. "Your mate?"
He nodded once. "Once. Long ago. She swore we were eternal. Then she left. And I learned eternity is just another lie."
"She left because you became this."
"Or I became this because she left."
The moment stretched taut, heavy with what might have been pity. Then he smiled again, cold and sharp. "But that doesn't matter now. You'll stay here. You'll learn. You'll forget him."
"Never."
Fredrick sighed. "Such devotion. It almost makes me jealous."
"Almost?" she echoed bitterly.
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She flinched, but he didn't stop. "You'll understand, in time. The difference between love and survival. One is fleeting. The other keeps you breathing."
She met his gaze squarely. "Then I'll die loving him."
His expression hardened, the softness vanishing. "You'll die because of him."
He turned and walked away, the air seeming to freeze in his wake. The door shut behind him with a whisper.
Sapphire stood there long after he left, the snow falling in thick, silent sheets around her. Her hands trembled, but her eyes burned with fury instead of fear.
"Let the devil play his games," she whispered to the night. "I'll learn his rules—and break every one."
In the distance, thunder rolled over the frozen forest. It wasn't a storm. It was a promise.