The storm rose like a living thing, snarling across the frozen plains. Snow clawed at Ysolde's face, needling her skin until she could barely open her eyes. The world around her blurred into white chaos—sky, ground, wind, all blending into one violent, merciless storm.
And through it, she was dragged.
The stranger's grip was iron around her arm, jerking her forward each time she faltered. His cloak—ragged, fur-lined, and black as a moonless night—snapped behind him in the wind like a torn banner. She stumbled through knee-deep drifts, breath burning in her lungs.
Her boot caught on a root buried beneath the snow, sending her crashing to her knees.
He didn't stop.
He pulled her up with one brutal yank.
"Stop struggling," he hissed. "You'll only make this worse."
She spat snow and forced her voice through chattering teeth.
"Where are you taking me?"
He ignored her.
The storm howled louder, masking any direction he may have been heading. She could not even see the ground beyond his boots, only the faint shape of his hand gripping her wrist—long fingers, calloused, veins like black ink under pale skin.
Ysolde twisted, yanking against him. "Let go—let me go!"
His response was a low, amused laugh. "You're a loud little thing. No wonder the King dragged you straight to his den."
Her stomach twisted.
"You know him?"
He stopped.
The sudden stillness in his body sent a prickling shiver up her spine.
Snow swirled around them as he turned to face her fully. His hood shielded most of his features, but the lower half of his face—sharp jaw, faint scar at the corner of his mouth—was unmistakably wolf-marked.
"Know him?" he repeated with a cold smile. "I've been waiting ten years to destroy him."
Before she could react, his hand shot forward and slammed her back into a jagged boulder jutting from the snow. Pain tore up her spine, stealing her breath. She gasped, clawing at the stone for balance.
The stranger pinned her there with one hand at her throat—not choking, but holding her still with humiliating ease.
His breath steamed in the cold as he leaned close.
"You're lucky, you know. The King doesn't bond with anyone. Doesn't trust anyone. Doesn't even let anyone near him." His smile sharpened. "But you? You he carries into the court like a prize."
Ysolde's heart pounded so violently she felt it in her throat.
"I didn't ask—"
"No," he said softly. "But fate has a cruel sense of humor."
The stranger lifted his other hand, revealing a dagger of obsidian black, its edges shimmering with a wrongness that made her blood run cold. The blade didn't reflect the storm—it swallowed it.
Ysolde's breath hitched.
"What are you doing?"
"Collecting what my master wants." His voice dropped. "And he wants your blood."
Her pulse stuttered.
She shoved against him, but he pinned her tighter. He lifted the blade, angling it toward her wrist.
"No—! Stop—"
He caught her wrist effortlessly.
"Hold still," he murmured. "This won't take long if you don't—"
A sound tore through the storm.
A sound that didn't belong to wind or wolves or any creature she had heard before.
A roar.
Deep. Violent. Ancient.
It split the air open like the sky itself had cracked.
The stranger froze.
"No…" he whispered, eyes widening. "Not now."
The snow around them trembled. Powder lifted from the ground, drifting weightless as if the storm paused its breath.
Another roar—closer.
Then the earth shook.
"He's shifting," the stranger snarled. "He never shifts out here."
Ysolde's breath hitched.
Kael.
She didn't understand how she knew it was him. She only felt it—felt the pull in her chest, the sharp prickle of something ancient and instinctive, the sense that a predator far more terrifying than the storm itself was coming for her.
Not for the stranger.
For her.
The kidnapper grabbed her hair, yanking her away from the rock, dragging her across the ice faster now, urgency cutting through his cruelty.
But it was too late.
The storm exploded outward—snow blasting in every direction as a massive silhouette tore through the white.
A monstrous shape.
Four massive limbs.
Fur black as night with shimmering silver veins running through it.
Eyes burning molten silver.
A cursed beast.
Kael.
He wasn't just shifted—he was transformed. His form was larger than any wolf she'd ever imagined, his claws sinking into the ice like knives, breath steaming like fire in the cold.
The stranger backed away, dragging Ysolde with him.
"Damn it. Damn it!"
Ysolde's feet barely touched the snow as he hauled her backward.
Kael moved with horrifying grace—massive, silent, unstoppable.
His eyes locked onto her instantly.
A sound rumbled from his chest, more fury than voice.
Mine.
She felt the word. It echoed through her bones, shaking something deep inside her she didn't understand.
The stranger cursed again and jerked Ysolde back into the storm.
Kael lunged—but the stranger threw something into the snow.
A black powder.
It erupted into a sudden smoke-like burst, cloaking the blizzard in thicker white.
Kael roared, tearing the ice apart where the man had been standing.
Ysolde reached toward him, her scream ripped away by the wind.
"KAEL!"
The stranger tightened his grip and dragged her deeper into the storm.
The world swallowed her.
Kael's silhouette disappeared behind the blinding white, lost in the fury of the blizzard.
And Ysolde realized with a cold rush of terror—
She was being carried farther away from the only being in this world who could keep her alive.