The howl outside split the night like a blade, tearing through the cabin walls and slicing straight into Aria's chest. Every ember in the fireplace seemed to shudder. The men inside froze mid-breath, hands reaching instinctively for weapons Aria hadn't even noticed before.
Ronan was already on his feet.
He didn't speak.
He didn't shout orders.
He simply moved—fast, controlled, deadly.
And every wolf in the room followed his motion like shadows obeying the moon.
Aria's heart hammered against her ribs as she pushed herself up from the cot.
"Stay there," Ronan said without looking back, his voice low and sharp enough to pin her in place.
Her fingers curled around the blanket.
"But—"
"Aria."
Her name in his voice held power.
Authority.
Fear.
And something else she didn't understand yet.
"The bond hasn't settled," he continued, eyes locking with hers. "If they get near you… it will drive them mad."
Her throat tightened. "Why? What do they want from me?"
He exhaled once, a harsh breath, as if saying the truth would break something inside him.
"They want to destroy what they can't have," he said. "And what's mine, they can't touch."
Her breath caught—and before she could question him again, he turned away, his posture shifting from controlled leader to something more primal.
His shoulders tensed.
His spine straightened.
His pupils thinned again.
Aria watched, stunned.
He wasn't shifting—but something inside him was pacing with hunger.
The wolf beneath his skin.
⸻
Outside, the snowstorm changed.
The wind wasn't just wind anymore—it carried snarls. Low, guttural, inhuman.
Branches cracked.
Snow thudded under heavy feet.
Someone whispered, "Alpha, they've never come this close before…"
Ronan didn't break his stare with the door.
"They smell her," he said quietly. "And they know what she is."
Aria's heart stumbled.
"What am I?" she whispered.
He didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
Whatever she was—whatever the bond had awakened—was enough to send monsters into a frenzy.
⸻
One of Ronan's men stepped forward. "We can drive them back, Alpha—"
"No." Ronan's voice cut the air. "You guard the entrances. No one shifts unless I do."
Aria swallowed. "Shift…?"
He turned sharply toward her.
"Aria. Don't move from that spot. If anything touches you, call for me."
His eyes glowed faintly—moonlight caught in ice.
She nodded without meaning to.
He opened the door.
The wind burst in, icy and violent, carrying the thick, metallic scent of danger. The storm swallowed him instantly, his dark coat disappearing into the white.
Aria stood frozen, blanket clutched to her trembling hands.
The door shut behind him, sealing her inside with his men.
But her heart…
Her heart went after him.
⸻
Outside
Ronan stepped into the storm, snow whipping at his face, the world blurred white around him. The cold didn't bite him—it welcomed him. He let the wolf inside push closer, stretching into his limbs, heightening every sound.
Growls echoed from the trees.
Three shapes circled—bent, twisted, wrong.
Rogues.
Once-wolves who had lost their sanity, lost their names, lost everything but hunger.
Ronan's eyes burned blue.
"You won't touch her," he growled.
The creatures lunged.
Ronan didn't hesitate.
He moved like a strike of winter lightning—silent, lethal, precise. The storm swallowed the sounds, leaving only flashes of movement and snarls carried by the wind.
The pack inside the cabin listened with tense silence, knowing better than to interfere with their Alpha when he fought like this.
⸻
Inside
Aria pressed a hand to her mouth, trying not to cry out every time she heard movement outside.
A thud.
A growl.
A yelp of pain.
The crack of ice.
Her wrist burned again—hotter this time. It pulsed under her skin like a heartbeat that didn't belong to her.
She winced. "Not now… please…"
The burn traveled up her arm, settling behind her ribs, like something inside her was clawing to get out.
One of Ronan's men turned toward her sharply. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, breathing hard. "I… I don't know. It just—"
The door slammed open.
Aria gasped.
Ronan stood in the doorway, breathing hard, snow clinging to his coat and hair. His eyes glowed faintly, the wolf still on the surface. Blood smeared across his knuckles—not his own.
The men straightened immediately.
"Alpha—"
"They're dead," Ronan said flatly. "Three of them."
Aria's stomach twisted.
He walked inside, shutting the door with slow, controlled force. His gaze swept the room, then fixed on her.
He didn't go to the fire.
He didn't clean the blood.
He didn't speak to his men.
He went straight to Aria.
And she couldn't look away.
He stopped only when he was inches from her—close enough that she felt the cold radiating from him like a second storm.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
His voice was no longer cold.
It was sharp with worry.
Her breath trembled. "No. But my arm—my wrist—it burns."
His jaw tightened.
"The bond is reacting," he said quietly. "It responds to danger. To me."
Her eyes widened. "So the pain means—"
"It means you felt what I felt," he said. "The bond pulls you toward me… even if you don't want it."
Aria's heart thudded painfully.
"Ronan," she whispered, "why is this happening to me?"
He closed his eyes for a slow heartbeat—one of surrender and fury all at once—before opening them again, ice-sharp and honest.
"Because you're not human," he said.
"Not fully."
Aria's world tilted.
Before she could respond, he reached out—slowly, giving her every chance to pull away—and took her wrist gently in his hand.
The burning eased instantly.
Their breath mingled in the cold air between them.
Ronan looked at her as though seeing her for the first time.
"Aria…"
His voice was a whisper of winter meeting flame.
"Your bloodline is older than mine."
"And it just woke up."