Sierra

The car door slammed shut.

The interior of the car smelled of expensive leather and something sharp, like ozone before a storm. I huddled against the door, my skin still crawling from the phantom sensation of Santiago’s touch. The rejection bond was still aching in my chest. It felt like my heart had been shredded and left to bleed in the dark.

"Stop crying."

The voice was deep. It was like velvet wrapped around gravel.

I looked up. The man sitting in the shadows of the backseat was even more terrifying up close. He was massive. His shoulders were so broad they seemed to take up half the cabin. He leaned back with a terrifying grace, his long legs stretched out. He didn't look like the other Alphas I knew. He wasn't polished. He was raw. Dark tattoos peeked out from the collar of his black shirt, climbing up his neck like ivy.

"I am not crying." I wiped my face with the back of my hand. My voice was hoarse. "I am mourning the fact that I didn't kill Santiago when I had the chance."

A small, dangerous smirk touched his lips. He finally looked at me. His eyes weren't just dark. They were haunting. He was devastatingly handsome in a way that made you want to run and stay at the same time.

"Great." He said. "Keep that fire. You are going to need it where we are going."

"Where are we going?" I asked. I moved as far away from him as the seat allowed. "And why did you buy me? I am a 'murderer,' remember? Or did Santiago forget to mention that?"

"I don't care about the gossip of a pack that can't even protect its own." He leaned forward. The movement was sudden. He invaded my space, his scent flooding my senses. "You are Sierra. The girl with no pack. And I am Ansel. Your new reality."

"I am not your property." I snapped.

"Technically, you are." He corrected me coldly. "But let us be clear about one thing. I do not have time for tears or drama. You have a role to play. If you play it well, we won't have problems. You will be fed, clothed, and protected. If you don't, the North is a very cold place for a lone wolf."

"What role?" I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.

Ansel looked out the window as the car sped away from the Vanguard estate. I watched the lights of my home disappear. I felt a pang of agony, but I pushed it down. I had to survive.

"My position is being threatened." Ansel said. His voice was casual, as if he were discussing the weather. "The Council of Elders thinks I am too unstable. Too 'cursed' to lead without an anchor. My brother, Ricosta, is already whispering in their ears, trying to claim my seat. He thinks he can run the North better than I can."

"And what does that have to do with me?"

Ansel turned back to me. He leaned in so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body. He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. His touch was firm, almost aggressive.

"I need a Luna." He whispered. "A perfect, happy, devoted Luna to show the Council that I am settled. I need the world to believe we are a match made in the stars."

I let out a harsh laugh. "You want me to lie? After what just happened? I can barely stand to be touched by a man right now."

"It is a transaction, Sierra." He said. His gaze dropped to my lips. "You play the part of the doting wife in public. You smile at the galas. You stand by my side at the trials. In exchange, I give you a life Santiago could never dream of."

"And in private?" I challenged him.

"In private, you can hate me all you want." He shrugged. "But there is one more condition. The Council won't be satisfied with just a wedding. They want a legacy."

I shook my head. "What does that mean?"

Ansel's eyes darkened. He moved his hand from my jaw to the back of my neck, pulling me slightly closer. The air in the car suddenly felt very thin.

"I need a son, Sierra." He said. His voice was a low growl. "I need an heir to secure my line. Give me a son, and after he is born and the Council is silenced, I will give you your freedom. I will give you enough money to go anywhere in the world and disappear."

I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me. "You want me to... you want a baby?"

"I want a future." He corrected. "And you are the one I chose to give it to me. It is a simple deal. A life for a life."

"You are insane." I whispered. "I don't even know you."

"You don't need to know me to carry my child." He said. He didn't sound like a hero. He sounded like a king who was used to taking whatever he wanted. "Do we have a deal, or should I tell the driver to drop you off in the middle of the woods? I hear the rogues are hungry this time of year."

I looked at him. Truly looked at him. He was ruthless. He was arrogant. He was everything I should hate. But he was also my only way out. He was the only person who could keep me safe from Santiago’s reach.

"Three months." I said. My voice was trembling. "Give me three months to decide."

"You have until we reach the border." Ansel said. He didn't move away. He stayed in my space, his heavy presence pinning me against the seat. "But let me give you a piece of advice, pet. Don't look back. There is nothing left for you in that pack but a grave."

I looked at his tattoos. I looked at the raw power in his shoulders. I thought about Santiago and Amaia laughing in that ballroom. I thought about how he had used me and then thrown me away like trash.

"I'll do it." I whispered. "But I have my own rules. You don't touch me unless it's for the 'role.' And you never, ever mention my mother."

Ansel’s smirk returned. It was a beautiful, lethal thing.

"We'll see about the touching, Sierra." He said.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned in further, his nose brushing against mine. For a second, the hatred I felt for men in general flickered. There was a spark there. A dangerous, forbidden pull that had nothing to do with a mate bond and everything to do with the man himself.

"Welcome to the North." He whispered against my lips.

His phone buzzed. He pulled back, the spell breaking instantly. He looked at the screen and his expression turned to ice.

"What is it?" I asked.

"My brother." Ansel said. He looked at me with a look that made me want to scream. "It seems he has already found out about you. He's waiting at the gates. And he brought a guest."

"Who?"

Ansel didn't answer. He just looked out the window as we crossed the mountain pass.

Get ready, Sierra." He said. "The game just got a lot more complicated."

As the car rounded the final bend, I saw the lights of a massive stone fortress. And standing under the spotlights at the entrance was a figure I recognized all too well.

It was Giberano.

My heart stopped. He wasn't supposed to be here. I had seen him on the news and heard about him. Ansel's father.

My hands shook.

What was I supposed to do?

But as the car pulled to a stop, I saw the look on his face. It wasn't anger. It was a bit genuine smile.

Ansel gripped my hand, his rings cold against my skin.

"Smile, Luna." He commanded. "Our first audience is waiting.”

Sierra

The car slowed to a halt, the tires crunching on the gravel of the Northern fortress. My hands were shaking so hard I had to sit on them. This wasn't just some remote outpost. This was the lion's den.

"Get out of the car, Sierra," Ansel commanded. His voice was like ice, but his hand reached out and gripped mine. It wasn't a comfort. It was a warning. "And remember. You love me. If you look like you’re about to faint, I’ll give them a reason to actually worry."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and stepped out. The mountain air was biting, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from the man standing at the top of the stairs.

Giberano. The former King. Ansel’s father.

He didn't look like a monster. He looked like an elder statesman, his silver hair neatly combed, a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. Beside him stood a younger man with a sharp, rat-like face.

"Ansel," Giberano called out, his voice booming. "You’ve finally returned. And I see you didn’t come alone."

Ansel pulled me flush against his side, his arm heavy around my waist. "Father. Ricosta. I believe you were expecting us."

Ricosta, Ansel’s half-brother, stepped forward. He raked his eyes over me, making me feel like a piece of meat at an auction. "So this is the little Vanguard stray? The one Santiago was so eager to get rid of? I heard she was a murderer, not a prize."

Ansel’s grip tightened on my hip, his fingers digging into my skin. "Watch your tongue, Ricosta. You are looking at my fiancée. The future Luna of the North."

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Giberano’s smile faltered.

"Fiancée?" Ricosta laughed, a high, irritating sound. "You’ve been gone for forty-eight hours and you’ve found a soulmate? Does she even know about the curse, or did you forget to mention that in your marriage proposal?"

"She knows everything she needs to know," Ansel growled. The air around him began to vibrate with a low, dangerous hum. "She’s here to secure the line. Which is more than you’ve done with your string of tavern girls."

"Enough," Giberano barked, though he was still looking at me with intense curiosity. "If she is to be the Luna, she must be vetted by the Council. They are already inside. They heard the rumors of your arrival and they are... impatient."

We were led into a hall that felt more like a courtroom than a home. Twelve elders sat behind a long stone table, their faces etched with centuries of tradition and skepticism.

"Ansel," the head elder said, not even looking at me. "You claim this woman is your chosen. But the North does not accept claims of convenience. If she is the anchor to your curse, we need proof."

"What kind of proof?" I asked, my voice small.

The elder finally looked at me. "The bond of the North is sealed in blood and consummation. If you are to be his Luna, the union must be finalized tonight. Under the watchful eye of the Pack’s traditions. We will not wait for a spring wedding while the throne sits unstable."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "Tonight?"

"Tonight," Giberano added, his voice smooth as oil. "Unless, of course, my son is lying and this is all a desperate ploy to keep his crown."

"She stays," Ansel said firmly. He turned to me, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Take her to the royal chambers. Prepare her."

Before I could protest, two stern-faced women in grey tunics approached me. They didn't ask. They simply took my arms and led me away from the only person I knew, even if I hated him.

The preparation was a blur of rose-scented water and silk. They stripped me of my emerald dress, washing away the scent of the South until I smelled like the pine and snow of the North. They dressed me in a sheer, white silk gown that felt like nothing against my skin.

"You are lucky," one of the women whispered as she brushed my hair. "Many would die to be in the Alpha’s bed."

"I’m not lucky," I whispered back. "I’m a prisoner."

They left me in a massive room lit only by the glow of the fireplace. The bed was draped in furs, looking more like an altar than a place of rest. I sat on the edge of it, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The heavy oak door creaked open.

Ansel walked in. He had discarded his suit jacket and tie. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down, revealing the intricate tattoos that told the story of his battles. He looked lethal. He looked beautiful.

He didn't say a word. He just walked toward me, his boots heavy on the stone floor. Every step felt like a countdown.

He stopped right in front of me. I had to tilt my head back to look at him. Up close, the scent of him was overwhelming—cedarwood and something uniquely him.

"They are waiting outside the door, Sierra," he said, his voice a low, rough velvet. "They won't leave until they hear what they came for."

"I can't do this," I breathed, my hands clutching the silk of my gown. "This wasn't the deal. You said three months."

"The Council changed the rules. My brother is whispering in their ears as we speak." He reached out, his large hand cupping the side of my neck. His thumb brushed over the spot where Santiago’s mark should have been, but was now just scarred, empty skin.

He leaned down, his face inches from mine. I could feel the heat of his breath on my lips. It wasn't the cold aggression from the car. This was something else. Something slower.

"I won't hurt you," he whispered, his dark eyes searching mine. "But I need them to believe you are mine. Truly mine."

He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing mine, his hand sliding down to the small of my back to pull me against him. I let out a soft gasp, my eyes fluttering shut as the world narrowed down to just the two of us and the crackle of the fire.

"Sierra," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver straight down my spine. "Look at me."

I opened my eyes, and for the first time, I didn't see the Cursed King. I saw a man who was just as trapped as I was.

He started to lean in his grip tightening, but then a sharp, frantic scratching came from the balcony window.

A white wolf was perched on the ledge, its eyes glowing a frantic, bloody red.

Sierra

The glass burst inward in a shower of glittering shards, and the white wolf landed on the stone floor with a thud that rattled the silk against my skin. Frigid air from the balcony rolled across the chamber and bent the flames in the hearth sideways. I stumbled backward until the edge of the fur-draped bed pressed against my knees, and a thin, strangled sound escaped my throat.

Ansel moved faster than I could follow. One moment his hand had been sliding down my back, and the next he stood between me and the intruder with his shirt torn open and his fingers curled into claws. A low growl rolled out of his chest, and the temperature in the room dropped so sharply that frost crept across the shattered window frame.

The wolf did not attack. It staggered two steps forward, left a smear of blood across the flagstones, and then its body began to ripple. Bones slid and shortened beneath the pale fur, and the red glow in its eyes dimmed to a hard, tired amber. Within seconds, a man knelt among the broken glass, lean and rough-faced, with rust-colored hair and a scar slicing through his left eyebrow. He wore only torn black trousers, and a deep gash ran across his ribs, leaking steadily onto the floor.

"Put your claws away, Northern King, because I am the only reason your bride is still breathing," the stranger rasped, pressing a hand to his side.

Ansel did not lower his hands. "I know your face from the bounty boards, rogue, and I remember the price Ricosta placed on your head."

"Then you also know Ricosta is the reason I am bleeding on your floor." The man lifted his gaze to me, and something in his stare was so fierce and so familiar that my pulse stuttered. "My name is Red, and I have perhaps three minutes before the men outside decide this ritual has taken long enough."

I found my voice somewhere beneath my ribs. "I have never met you, so why would you risk your life to climb onto a balcony in a blizzard?"

"Because someone has to keep you alive until you understand what you are." He winced and swayed, and Ansel caught his shoulder with surprising speed to keep him from collapsing. "Listen carefully, both of you, because I will not be able to repeat any of this."

Red spoke in short, clipped bursts, as if every word cost him blood. The Council witnesses waiting beyond the door carried a censer of ceremonial incense, he explained, and Ricosta had spent two weeks lacing the resin with somnia root. A woman who breathed it would turn pliant and silent, unable to say whether she consented to anything at all. The elders would then declare the union forced, void under Northern law, and Ansel would stand exposed as a kidnapper who had dragged a sold girl into his bed.

"Under the old statutes, a false Luna is executed in the courtyard at dawn," Red finished. "Your brother does not need to kill you with his own hands, Sierra, because the law will do his killing for him."

The words slid down my spine like melting ice. I stared at Ansel, searching his face for surprise, and found only a muscle ticking in his jaw. He had already guessed, I realized, and the knowledge made me feel colder than the broken window ever could.

"You knew about the incense," I whispered.

"I suspected my brother would try something cruel." Ansel kept his eyes on Red. "I did not know he had found a way to turn the Council's own traditions into a noose."

Red let out a harsh breath that was almost a laugh. "There is more, and you will like it even less." He turned back to me, and his voice dropped until it was barely louder than the crackling fire. "I know what your mother was called before she hid behind a stolen name, and I know why she ran from the Vanguard in the dead of night."

The room tilted sharply around me, and my hand shot out and found the bedpost, and my fingernails dug into the carved wood hard enough to splinter it. "My mother left because she could not bear the abuse in that house, and she never told me anything else."

"She told you exactly what she needed you to believe." Red's amber eyes flicked to my neck, to the pale scar where Santiago's mark should have lived. "And that scar is not as dead as the Southern Alpha wants you to think, little one."

"What does that even mean?" I demanded, though my fingers had already drifted up to touch the ruined skin.

A thunderous pounding exploded against the oak door. All three of us flinched, and Ansel swore under his breath in a language I did not recognize.

"My lord Ansel," called a smooth, sugar-sweet voice from the corridor, and I felt my stomach turn over, because I had heard that voice mocking me at the gates only hours earlier. "Forgive the interruption, but the Council grows restless, and we have brought the blessing of the hearth to speed the ritual along."

"Ricosta," Ansel murmured, so softly that only Red and I could hear. "He could not even wait one hour."

"Hide me," Red whispered. "Put me anywhere, because if he finds me here, he will say you conspired with a wanted rebel, and that alone would justify a coup."

I should have hesitated, because trust had always been the most dangerous thing I owned. Instead, my body moved before my mind could argue, and I grabbed the heavy fur curtain that draped the balcony doorway and hauled it aside. Red slipped through the gap and vanished into the darkness, leaving only a few drops of blood glistening beside my bare feet.

"Sierra, the blood," Ansel hissed.

I dropped to my knees and dragged the hem of my gown across the stones, smearing the crimson into the white silk until it looked like nothing more than a careless stain. My hands shook so badly that I tore a small hole in the fabric, but the evidence disappeared beneath the shadows of the bed.

"Open this door immediately," Ricosta called again, and the sweetness in his voice curdled into something thin and sharp. "Or I shall assume my brother is struggling to perform his duty, and I will gladly send in the elders to assist."

A cruel laugh rippled through the men gathered behind him. Heat flooded my cheeks, partly from humiliation and partly from a rage so sudden that it startled me. I rose slowly and pressed my palms against the silk over my racing heart.

"Whatever happens next, you follow my lead," Ansel said in a low, steady voice. His eyes met mine, and for one fragile moment I saw no king, no curse, and no cold bargain in them at all. "Do you understand me, Sierra?"

"I understand that I am the only person in this castle who has no allies," I answered, and my voice came out steadier than I felt. "So I will follow your lead for exactly as long as you earn it."

The corner of his mouth lifted in the faintest, grimmest smile. Then he strode to the door and turned the iron latch.

The corridor beyond was alive with torchlight and grey robes. Ricosta stood at the front with his rat-sharp face arranged into polite concern, and behind him two elders carried a silver censer on a long chain. Sweet, heavy smoke curled from its perforated lid, and the scent hit me like a hand clamped over my mouth. It smelled of honey, of crushed lilies, and of something beneath those things, something bitter and green that made my tongue go numb.

"Brother," Ricosta said brightly, and his gaze slid past Ansel to land on me. "We heard a crash, and we feared you might be in some danger."

"A window latch failed in the wind," Ansel replied evenly. "Nothing worth your concern."

"How wonderfully convenient for you both." Ricosta stepped forward, and the elders followed with the censer swinging between them. Smoke spilt into the chamber in a slow, creeping wave. "Then you will not object if we begin the blessing right now, in the presence of every witness."

I drew one breath before I could stop myself, and the world began to soften around its edges. My knees sagged beneath my own weight, and the hearth fire smeared into long golden ribbons, and the pounding of my heart slowed to a lazy, distant drum. Somewhere far away, Ricosta's smile widened, and I heard Ansel say my name as though he were calling across a frozen lake.