The morning air bit at my cheeks as Parker led me to a clearing behind the cabin. Snow crunched under my boots—proper boots this time, thick leather ones he'd somehow procured for me. My breath came out in white puffs, but for the first time in weeks, I wasn't shivering.

"You need to learn to protect yourself," Parker said, his voice cutting through the crisp silence. He pulled a dagger from his belt, the blade gleaming silver in the pale sunlight. "The world isn't kind to she-wolves who can't fight back."

I stared at the weapon, my stomach clenching. "I don't know how—"

"You'll learn." He pressed the handle into my palm, his fingers brushing mine. That same electric spark shot up my arm, making my wolf stir restlessly in my chest. "Feel the weight. Get used to it."

For the next hour, he showed me how to hold it, how to thrust, how to block. My movements were clumsy at first, but gradually, something clicked. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was the memory of that feral Lycan's hands on me. But I started to move with purpose.

"Better," Parker murmured, circling me like a predator. "Now, tracking. You need to know when danger is coming."

He knelt in the snow, pointing to barely visible indentations. "Rabbit tracks. See how the back paws land in front? They're running from something." His finger traced another set of marks. "Fox. Hunting."

I crouched beside him, studying the patterns. His scent—pine and something wild and masculine—wrapped around me like a blanket. My wolf pressed against my ribs, wanting to get closer.

"Your turn," he said, standing. "Find my tracks from yesterday."

I searched the clearing, following the faint impressions his boots had left. It was harder than it looked, but slowly, I began to see the story the snow told. Where he'd paused. Where he'd changed direction. Where he'd—

"Good," his voice came from directly behind me.

I spun around, startled, and lost my footing on a patch of ice. I went down hard, but before I could hit the ground, Parker caught me. We tumbled together, and suddenly I was pinned beneath him in the snow, his hands braced on either side of my head.

Time stopped.

His amber eyes were inches from mine, pupils dilated. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, could smell that intoxicating scent that made my wolf howl with recognition. The mate bond—I felt it like lightning in my veins, white-hot and undeniable.

Parker's breathing was ragged. His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes. For a heartbeat, I thought he might kiss me. I wanted him to. Heat pooled low in my belly, a sensation I'd never felt with Ryker, not once in three years.

Then Parker jerked back like I'd burned him. He scrambled to his feet, putting distance between us, his jaw clenched tight.

"That's enough for today," he said roughly, not meeting my eyes.

He stalked back toward the cabin, leaving me breathless and confused in the snow.

Later that afternoon, I was cleaning the main room when I noticed a loose floorboard near the fireplace. Curious, I pried it up and found a small iron chest hidden beneath. It was locked, but the key hung on a nail just inside the hiding spot.

My hands trembled as I opened it.

Inside were dozens of letters, all addressed to me in careful handwriting. The dates went back three years—starting just after my forced mating to Ryker. With shaking fingers, I pulled out the first one.

*Angelina,*

*I watched you in the garden today. You were humming that song again, the one your grandmother taught you. Ryker walked past without even looking at you. The bastard doesn't deserve you.*

*I left healing herbs by the eastern border. For your cough. Please find them.*

*Always watching,*

*P*

My heart hammered against my ribs. I grabbed another letter, then another. They were all the same—Parker watching me from the shadows, documenting Ryker's cruelty, leaving anonymous gifts. He'd been my guardian angel for years, and I'd never known.

The last letter was dated just a week before my exile:

*My beautiful mate,*

*I can't stand watching him hurt you anymore. Soon, I'll find a way to claim you properly. I just need to survive long enough to be worthy of you.*

*The exiled king dreams of his queen.*

*Forever yours,*

*Parker*

"You weren't supposed to find those."

I spun around. Parker stood in the doorway, his face a mask of resignation and fear.

"Exiled king?" I whispered, clutching the letters to my chest. "Parker, what does that mean?"

He stepped into the room, his movements careful, like he was approaching a wounded animal. "It means I'm a hunted man, Angelina. It means I couldn't claim you because doing so would have put a target on your back."

"Claim me?" My voice cracked. "You knew? All this time, you knew we were mates?"

His amber eyes met mine, raw with years of suppressed longing. "From the moment I first caught your scent. You were meant to be mine, not his. Never his."

The letters scattered from my hands as the truth crashed over me like a wave.

The letters lay scattered around us like fallen snow, but all I could see was Parker's face. The raw honesty in his amber eyes made my chest tight with something I'd never felt before—not the desperate need for approval I'd craved from Ryker, but something deeper. Something that felt like coming home.

"You knew," I whispered again, stepping closer to him. "All those years, you were watching over me."

Parker's jaw clenched. "I couldn't claim you. Not then. I was—am—a hunted man. My brother Marcus, the Lycan Prince, he's been tracking me for years. If I'd revealed myself, if I'd tried to take you from Ryker, Marcus would have killed you to get to me."

"And now?" I reached up, my fingers tracing the jagged scar along his jaw. He shuddered under my touch, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Now you're already in danger because of me," he said roughly. "I should let you go. Find somewhere safe—"

"No." The word came out fiercer than I'd ever spoken before. "I'm tired of being pushed around, tired of being told what's best for me. I choose you, Parker. Scars, crown, danger—all of it."

Before he could protest, I rose on my toes and pressed my lips to his.

The world exploded.

Heat raced through my veins like wildfire. Parker's arms came around me, crushing me against his chest as he kissed me back with years of suppressed longing. His lips were warm and demanding, and I melted into him, finally understanding what it meant to be wanted—truly wanted—by someone.

Deep in my chest, my wolf threw back her head and howled with joy.

Then the pain hit.

I gasped, pulling back from Parker as agony lanced through my bones. My spine felt like it was being twisted by invisible hands. I doubled over, crying out as my ribs expanded and contracted.

"Angelina!" Parker caught me as I fell to my knees. "What's happening?"

"I don't—" Another wave of pain cut off my words. My hands were changing, fingers elongating, nails sharpening into claws. "Oh God, I'm shifting!"

I'd never shifted before. Twenty-three years old, and my wolf had never been strong enough to break free. But now, with Parker's scent surrounding me and the mate bond singing in my blood, she was finally claiming her place.

Parker knelt beside me, his voice calm and soothing. "Let her come, Angelina. Don't fight it. I'm here."

The transformation was brutal and beautiful. My bones cracked and reformed, my skin stretched and sprouted fur. I felt myself growing larger, stronger, more alive than I'd ever been. When it was over, I stood on four legs, panting.

I looked down at my paws—they were pure white, like fresh snow. My entire coat was white, gleaming in the firelight.

*Beautiful,* Parker's voice echoed in my mind, and I gasped. A mind link. We had a mind link.

*You can hear me?* I thought back, amazed.

*Clear as day, my queen.* His mental voice was warm with affection and pride. *You're magnificent.*

Parker shifted beside me, his massive black wolf appearing in a blur of shadow and muscle. Where I was light, he was darkness. Where I was new and uncertain, he was ancient and powerful. We were perfect opposites, perfect matches.

*Run with me,* he said, and I didn't hesitate.

We burst through the cabin door into the snowy night. Running as a wolf was like flying. My paws barely touched the ground as we raced through the forest, weaving between trees, leaping over fallen logs. The cold air filled my lungs, and for the first time in my life, I felt truly free.

*This is what I was meant for,* I told Parker as we crested a ridge, the moonlight turning the snow silver around us.

*This is what we were meant for,* he corrected, and I felt his love wash over me through our bond.

We ran for what felt like hours, exploring the mountain territory that Parker called home. But as we circled back toward the cabin, both of our wolves suddenly went rigid.

A scent. Familiar and unwelcome.

*Someone's here,* Parker growled, his hackles rising.

I lifted my muzzle, testing the air. My blood turned to ice as recognition hit me.

Ryker.

He'd found me. Somehow, impossibly, he'd tracked me through the Dead Zone to this hidden sanctuary. And from the desperation clinging to his scent, he hadn't come to finish what he'd started.

He'd come to beg.