Zeva’s POV

Three days blurred into an eternity. The dungeon was a pit carved out of stone, damp and cold, filled with the stench of mildew and rusted chains. I thought I would lose my mind long before I lost my body. Time didn’t move down here; it stretched and warped, melting into agony. My throat had dried into sandpaper, my lips cracked until blood crusted them.

Leah, my wolf, fought inside me like a cornered beast. Stay alive, she urged, though even her voice wavered with fatigue. We can’t die here, Zeva.

But I was dying. Slowly, brutally. Every bone in my body throbbed, every muscle shriveled under the cruelty of deprivation. My head spun until I couldn’t tell if I was awake or dreaming.

And yet, I wasn’t dead.

I wondered bitterly if that was Thalyn’s plan all along—not to kill me outright, but to unravel me piece by piece until I begged for death.

I was curled against the damp wall when I heard footsteps echoing, heavy and deliberate. My foggy mind barely registered them until the iron door screeched open, flooding the dungeon with flickering torchlight.

Two guards dragged something—or rather, someone—across the stone floor. The body landed with a sickening thud in front of me. My heart stopped when I saw her face.

“Kara!” My voice cracked, raw from disuse. My younger sister groaned, her delicate features twisted in pain. She couldn’t be here. Not her. Not my Kara.

The world narrowed to her trembling frame as I scrambled forward, ignoring the chains clattering around my wrists. “Please,” I begged, looking up as shadows filled the doorway.

Darian and Thalyn entered, dressed in ceremonial silk, looking every bit like royalty in this rotten place. Their smugness made bile rise in my throat.

“Leave her alone!” I shouted, shielding Kara with my own body.

Darian’s lips curled. “This isn’t about her. This is still about you.”

Thalyn stepped forward, her voice syrupy with cruelty. “Three days, Zeva. That was the deal. Accept the trade or pay the price. But we’ve decided to… raise the stakes.”

She crouched down, brushing a mocking finger against Kara’s cheek. My sister flinched. “Either you agree to go to Aric Veylor as his breeder bride,” Thalyn whispered, “or you watch your sweet sister bleed before your eyes.”

I froze.

The words cracked something deep inside me. My wolf, Leah, growled with feral rage, but even she faltered at the thought of Kara’s death.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Not her. Please, Thalyn, she has nothing to do with this.”

Thalyn’s eyes glittered. “Oh, but she has everything to do with it. You see, pain is only useful if it’s shared.”

Darian folded his arms, towering behind her like a dark sentinel. “Decide, Zeva. Your life or hers.”

I clutched Kara to me, my body trembling violently. For years, I’d defied every cruelty, spat back every insult, endured every lash of humiliation. But this—this was where my defiance broke. I couldn’t let Kara suffer for me.

Tears blurred my vision. My voice cracked as I forced the words out. “I’ll do it. I’ll go. I’ll take the trade.”

Kara whimpered behind me, but the guards yanked her back before I could hold her again.

Darian’s grin spread like poison. “Good girl.”

The chains were ripped from my wrists. For the first time in days, I felt air that wasn’t tainted with mold. But it was no victory. The noose around my neck had only tightened.

They didn’t even give me time to breathe before the preparations began.

I was led upstairs, my body half-dead, stumbling on weak legs. Omegas swarmed me like I was some doll to dress. Warm water filled the copper tub, steam curling in the chamber, and I sank into it with a hiss. The water stung my raw skin, but it was a luxury I hadn’t felt in years—or perhaps only days that felt like years.

Food followed: a bowl of broth, soft bread, meat that tasted like salvation on my tongue. Leah purred inside me as strength trickled back, though it was tainted with bitterness.

As the omegas brushed out my tangled hair and wrapped me in silk, I caught Thalyn leaning against the doorway, arms folded, eyes burning with triumphant mockery.

“Not too pretty,” she ordered the girls dressing me. “Remember, she’s going north to suffer, not to shine.”

Laughter echoed from the omegas, though uneasily. I didn’t react. My spirit was too hollow to waste on her taunts.

Still, one thought clawed free of my haze: “Kara comes with me.” My voice shook, but my gaze locked on Thalyn’s. “Wherever I go, she goes.”

Thalyn’s laugh was sharp as glass. “Do you truly think you can negotiate? Kara stays here, Zeva. You’ll bear Aric his heir first—then maybe we’ll consider returning her.”

“No—”

“Shut her up,” Thalyn snapped, and the omega girls froze me with a silencing look. My protests meant nothing. My words weighed less than air.

My heart cracked open. They weren’t just trading me—they were using my sister as a leash, binding me in chains stronger than steel.

The sound of trumpets cut through the hall. The herald’s voice rang clear: “Alpha Aric Veylor of the North has arrived!”

The air shifted instantly. The atmosphere grew taut with unease, as though even the walls recoiled.

My chest tightened. Every story I’d ever heard about the North’s Alpha spilled into my mind: tales of a ruthless warrior, a beast of blood and shadow, a man who turned rivers red with the blood of his enemies.

I was trembling as I walked downstairs to meet him.

And then I saw him.

Alpha Aric Veylor filled the doorway like a force of nature. He was taller than any wolf I had ever seen, his presence thick and suffocating, his shoulders broad and carved with power. His dark hair was cropped short, a jagged scar slashing across one brow, only amplifying the menace of his sharp, angled features.

But it was his eyes that stole my breath—storm-gray, cold as steel, merciless as winter.

Black tattoos curled down his muscled arms, intricate swirls of ancient runes and wolf sigils that marked him as more than just an Alpha. He was something primal, something feared.

Every instinct screamed at me to run. Leah crouched low in my chest, whimpering.

His gaze landed on me, pinning me in place. For a heartbeat, the world disappeared. There was no hall, no crowd, no Darian or Thalyn—only his storm-gray eyes burning into mine.

Heat crawled up my neck. Terror and something darker twisted inside me.

Alpha Aric had come for his bride.

And I was the sacrifice.

Aric’s POV

The northern winds still clung to my cloak as I paced the length of the council chamber, boots striking the obsidian floors like war drums. Garrick leaned against the carved wolf pillar, arms crossed, his usual mask of indifference covering the storm brewing in his eyes. Across from me, High Seer Malrik sat motionless, those cursed silver eyes glittering like moonlit daggers.

“I’ve already given my answer,” I growled, voice low but laced with enough venom to send lesser wolves trembling. “I will not be shackled. Not to a mate. And certainly not to a whimpering omega who will break before the first winter.”

Malrik’s mouth curled into something between a smile and a sneer. “This is not about shackles, Alpha Aric. This is about legacy.”

I stilled, my hand tightening around the edge of the stone table until cracks spread beneath my grip. Legacy. That word had haunted me since the day I first claimed the northern throne bathed in blood and fire. The north demanded strength, not sentiment. My people respected me because I gave them survival, not because I entertained the foolish notions of bonds and Luna crowns.

“You speak of legacy as if it can be carved by a weak hand,” I snapped. “I will not risk my bloodline for a whore’s womb.”

At that, Garrick pushed off the pillar, his dark gaze locking with mine. He was the only one who dared push me, the only one whose loyalty gave him the courage. “She isn’t just some omega, Aric. Malrik’s right. She carries Ashryn blood. The same bloodline the seers once called the Moon’s Flame. You can spit on it, ignore it, curse it all you want—but you know what it means. That bloodline can birth power.”

My chest tightened at the mention of that name. Ashryn. The tales were whispered like fireside curses: wolves touched by the moonlight itself, their line destined for greatness—or destruction. Most believed the bloodline had long since withered. But now Malrik was claiming it still flowed—in this so-called omega.

I narrowed my gaze at the seer. “And what makes you so certain? What if Darian is playing us for fools, spinning tales of ancestry to rid himself of his unwanted mate?”

“Because Darian is a fool,” Malrik countered smoothly, leaning forward with the heavy tone of prophecy in his tone. “He had the moon’s gift in his hand and chose to spit it out. You think it was chance he rejected her? No. The goddess does not make mistakes. She gave him a mate, and he was too blind, too proud to claim her. That rejection is his weakness—and your opportunity.”

The room thickened with silence. Garrick was watching me closely, gauging the cracks in my resolve. Malrik’s words hit like hammer blows against the walls I had built around myself. I despised the idea of bonds, of destiny. But I despised even more the thought of letting power slip from my grasp.

After a long moment, I exhaled through my teeth and sank into my chair, the weight of my choice pressing down like chains. “Fine,” I bit out. “If this ‘Ashryn omega’ exists, then I’ll see for myself. But make no mistake, Malrik—if this is a ploy, if she’s nothing but a frail mutt wrapped in old stories, then I will bury Darian and his entire cursed pack under northern snow.”

Malrik’s lips curved, triumphant. “The goddess will not disappoint you.”

~

The journey to the East was long, the forests growing thinner as the air warmed with the winds. I rode ahead, Garrick at my side, our soldiers trailing in disciplined silence. My thoughts circled like wolves around prey, restless, hungry, uncertain.

“Garrick,” I called.

“Yes, Alpha.”

“When the breeder bride arrives to the north, see to it that she is taken care of and stays clear from my way. I would hate to cross paths with her before the wedding night,” I said with disdain in my voice.

Garrick chuckled lightly. “Let Roxie take up the responsibility, this is a women’s affair. She can keep the breeder bride in check, just like you want.”

I nodded.

When the walls of the Eastern pack rose before us, I felt no awe, no respect. Their banners fluttered in the weak sun, but their stone carried no weight, no threat.

“Pathetic,” I muttered.

Darian was waiting at the gates, a smile plastered on his lips like a merchant desperate to sell rotten wares. His eyes gleamed with greed, but behind them I saw the shadow of humiliation. He bowed low, too low for an Alpha.

“Welcome, Alpha Aric of the North,” he said, voice oily. “It is an honor to receive you.”

I dismounted, ignoring his extended hand, letting my silence do the cutting. His smile faltered as I strode past him, my soldiers falling into place. Garrick stayed close, his mouth twitching at Darian’s awkward attempt to save face.

“Spare me your pleasantries,” I said flatly, my voice echoing across the courtyard. “I did not ride south for wine and words. I came for what was promised. Where is she?”

The color drained from Darian’s face, though he masked it quickly with a bow of his head. “Of course. The omega is being prepared.”

“Prepared?” I turned sharply, my voice cracking like a whip. “She is not a banquet to be dressed and displayed. Bring her. Now.”

Darian swallowed, the humiliation bleeding through his posture as he snapped his fingers at a guard. The man bolted, rushing inside.

I could feel the tension ripple through the gathered wolves. They were watching me, their own Alpha already diminished in his own halls. That alone was victory enough for the moment.

But then—I felt it.

The shift in the air. The sharp tug in my chest.

My gaze snapped to the entrance of the hall just as she appeared.

She was slight, almost fragile in her frame, her red hair a wild curtain that caught the faint sunlight. Her skin was pale, far too pale, and her figure showed the unmistakable scars of neglect—hunger, exhaustion, deprivation. She was dressed in silks that did not belong to her, like a lamb paraded before wolves.

For a heartbeat, I was ready to dismiss her. Weak. Breakable. Not worth the price of my presence.

And then her eyes lifted.

Emerald. Sharp. Burning.

The world stilled. My breath caught, unbidden, as those eyes locked with mine. For a moment, I wasn’t Alpha, wasn’t conqueror or beast of the north. For a moment, I was simply—caught.

The bond roared to life between us, savage and undeniable, a chain I had never asked for yet couldn’t break. My wolf surged, snarling, straining against the walls of my mind.

“Mine.”

I clenched my jaw, forcing the reaction down, masking it beneath the ice I wore so well. She looked weak, but those eyes—gods, those eyes held defiance. Fire wrapped in fragility.

And that fire burned straight into me.

Garrick glanced at me sidelong, a flicker of knowing passing through his expression. Malrik’s words echoed, unwelcome and undeniable.

The goddess had not disappointed.

Zeva’s POV

The hall was too bright. That was my first thought as the guards dragged me forward—two on each side, their grips bruising, their steps impatient. I had been stripped of everything familiar, wrapped in silk that didn’t belong to me, painted and adorned like a doll meant for auction. The gown felt cold against my skin, the colors too loud for someone who had spent her life fading into the background.

And as I crossed the threshold of the Eastern hall, my bare feet brushing the cold stone, I felt every pair of eyes burning into me—mocking, curious, satisfied.

Darian stood at the center, posturing like giving me away was some honorable gesture instead of the cowardice it was. He didn’t look at me as a mate. He didn’t even look at me as a person.

Just an inconvenience finally being removed.

A guard nudged me forward, and I nearly stumbled. My heart thudded against my ribs, my wolf curling deep within me, frightened and silent. The rejection still pulsed in my chest like a wound refusing to close. I shouldn’t have looked up, but some stubborn part of me—the part that refused to die—raised my head.

That was when I saw him.

The Alpha of the North.

Aric Veylor.

His presence hit me first—tall, broad, carved from winter and war. His cloak looked like it was stitched from storm clouds, his eyes cold enough to freeze blood. He didn’t blink when he looked at me. He didn’t soften. His face didn’t shift the way normal wolves’ did when recognizing their mate.

He simply stared.

And then it struck.

A snap, like a lightning bolt through my ribs. A pull so sharp my breath vanished. My knees weakened. My vision blurred. My wolf lunged, claws scraping at my insides.

Mate.

No. No, no—goddess, no.

My fingers curled against the silk, fighting the instinct to fall toward him. My wolf keened in my chest, but I forced her down with every ounce of strength left in me. I couldn’t let anyone see. Not Darian. Not Aric. And certainly not the watching pack members who would relish my struggle.

I swallowed hard and kept my chin up, refusing to show the tremor crawling down my spine.

He shouldn’t have affected me. Not after everything. Not after the rejection, the humiliation, the bruises hidden beneath the fabric. I should have felt nothing.

Yet here I was—breathless, trapped in his gaze, unable to move.

Aric’s jaw tightened, just slightly, like he felt something he didn’t want to acknowledge. The air crackled. His wolf pressed against the edge of his control, visible in the way his fingers twitched.

He felt it.

But instead of accepting it—he rejected the bond without words.

His expression hardened into disdain. Ice replaced instinct. Power replaced connection.

His silence was a blow sharper than Darian’s rejection.

Darian cleared his throat loudly. “As agreed, Alpha Aric, this omega—”

“Omega?” Aric cut in, voice flat, cold. “She looks like she’s been starved.”

Heat flushed across my cheeks. Darian stiffened a fraction, but his fake smile returned.

“She is fragile, but she will serve her purpose.”

Purpose.

As if I were livestock.

A ripple of humiliation tightened my throat, but I kept my expression neutral. I had already cried enough in Darian’s hall. I wouldn’t let these wolves—him—see me break again.

Aric stepped closer, and every part of me tensed. I felt him before I saw him—the coldness rolling off him, the dominance, the raw power in each step.

He circled me once, assessing like a general inspecting spoils of war.

My hands trembled, barely noticeable, but he noticed. He noticed everything.

When he finally spoke, his voice sounded like frost crawling across glass.

“Thin. Underslept. Scars from punishments. Bruises from discipline. Darian, what exactly were you sending me? A breeder bride or a corpse?”

Shame pooled in my stomach. I wanted to shrink, to disappear—but I refused. I kept my spine straight. I forced my eyes to stay ahead, refusing to look at him again.

Darian laughed lightly. “She will improve under your pack’s care.”

Aric made a sound low in his throat, something between annoyance and contempt. Then he turned away from me entirely.

“Prepare her for travel. We leave immediately.”

Travel?

So there would be no farewell, no gathering of my things, no last moment in the pack I grew up in.

No last glance at the home that had rejected me.

I was simply… gone.

The guards grabbed my arms again. I didn’t resist—not because I was broken, but because resistance only gave them a reason to hurt me.

But as they dragged me past Aric, he spoke without looking at me.

“Keep her quiet. I don’t want her crying on the ride.”

“I’m not crying,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

His head turned a fraction. A tiny fraction.

Those icy eyes landed on me again, colder than before.

“Then don’t start.”

Heat prickled behind my eyes, but I forced the tears back. I refused to give him the satisfaction.

**

The journey north felt endless. I was placed on a separate horse, flanked by guards, not trusted enough to ride near the Alpha. Snow replaced the green of the Eastern forests, the air tightening with cold. My breath puffed out in pale clouds.

The Northern border loomed like a wall of white and shadow.

When we crossed it, everything changed.

The land felt alive—wild energy pulsing through the mountains and forests. Wolves howled in the distance, answering Aric’s approach. The cold bit deeper, harsher than I expected, but clearer, cleaner. I straightened as the winds wrapped around me.

My wolf stirred weakly, sensing the ancient magic of the north.

The packhouse rose like a fortress carved into frost and stone. Tall, hardened wolves lined the path, watching me as if they were waiting for me to fall.

“Welcome home, Alpha,” one of them called.

Aric dismounted, barely acknowledging the greeting. “Where is Roxie?”

A woman pushed through the crowd—tall, sharp-faced, with dark eyes that assessed me instantly. Her smirk appeared before she even bowed to Aric.

“Right here, Alpha.”

“Good. This is the breeder bride.”

Breeder.

My stomach clenched.

Roxie stepped closer, her gaze raking over me from head to toe with obvious distaste.

“So this is the little omega from the East?” she said, voice dripping sweetness that tasted like poison. “She looks like a breeze could blow her over.”

My throat tightened. Before I could respond, Aric’s voice cut through.

“Keep her out of my sight until the wedding. Feed her. Clean her. Make sure she doesn’t get lost.”

Lost?

I met his eyes, anger crackling beneath my skin.

I wasn’t helpless.

I wasn’t weak.

I wasn’t owned.

But he wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was already turning away, cloak sweeping through frost, attention shifting to his warriors.

I was nothing but an obligation.

Roxie grabbed my arm. “Come on, little omega,” she sneered. “Let’s get you settled. You have no idea what kind of place you’ve been dragged into.”

I swallowed, lifting my chin.

She could pull me. She could insult me. Aric could ignore me. Darian could throw me away.

But I would not break.

Not here.

Not again.

As Roxie dragged me into the cold stone halls of the Northern fortress, I whispered to myself—

“I will survive this.”