Aria stood at the shattered doorway, staring into the dark swirl of the storm.
Snow whipped across the ground in vicious spirals, the wind howling like some ancient thing calling out her name.
Her name.
Aria Hale.
A human girl.
A normal girl.
At least, she had been—before tonight.
Ronan's men were already moving, securing the perimeter, retrieving weapons, dragging the rogue bodies away from the cabin. Their movements were swift and efficient, but their eyes kept flicking toward her wrist.
Toward the mark.
Toward the glow that hadn't quite faded.
Aria pulled her arm to her chest, suddenly self-conscious.
Ronan approached her again, his presence as solid and commanding as the mountains around them. Snow clung to his coat and hair, making him look as if he'd stepped straight out of winter itself.
"Aria," he said. "Stay close."
She hesitated. "What if… what if something else comes? More rogues?"
"They won't reach you."
His voice was steady, absolute.
"We're leaving. Now."
"But where?" She looked out at the darkness. "There's nothing but snow."
Ronan stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
"To Frostfall," he said. "My territory."
"But I don't know anything about your world," she whispered.
His eyes softened a fraction.
"You will."
The wind snapped harder, but Ronan didn't flinch. He reached into the cabin, retrieved a thick black cloak, and draped it around Aria's shoulders gently—not like a king commanding, but like a man trying to shield her from the world.
Aria's breath caught at the warmth.
"I told you," he murmured, fastening the clasp near her collar, "I won't let you freeze."
"I'm not made of glass," she whispered.
"No," Ronan said quietly. "You're made of something much rarer."
Her heart thudded painfully at the intensity in his eyes.
Before she could reply, one of the warriors approached.
"Alpha. The sled is ready. Wolves are in position."
Sled?
Ronan nodded. "We leave now."
Aria blinked. "Wolves… in position?"
"You'll see," Ronan said.
⸻
Outside the Cabin
The storm parted just enough for Aria to see shapes forming in the snow—massive shapes, moving with fluid, powerful grace.
Wolves.
Not like normal wolves.
These were enormous, easily twice the size, their fur glinting silver, black, or deep russet. Their eyes glowed faintly in the dark, alert and intelligent.
A large sled was hitched behind several of them, crafted from sturdy dark wood and reinforced with metal. It looked built for harsh terrain—exactly like Frostfall.
Aria's breath caught.
"They're beautiful," she whispered.
Ronan's lips twitched as though he were fighting a smile.
"They're my pack."
Aria took a small step back. "They won't hurt me… right?"
"Never," Ronan said firmly. "They know what you are."
That didn't exactly calm her.
"And what is that?" she asked softly.
Ronan met her eyes, his expression unreadable.
"The last Moonborn," he said. "The first of your kind in over a century."
The wind roared between them, stealing her breath.
"I can't be that," Aria whispered. "I'm just—"
"Aria."
Ronan's voice was gentle but unyielding.
"The bond wouldn't have awakened if you were ordinary."
She wanted to deny it.
Wanted to pretend none of this was real.
But her glowing mark…
Her reaction to danger…
The rogues hunting her…
None of it was ordinary.
Ronan extended his hand toward her. "Come."
Aria hesitated, staring at his gloved hand.
Every instinct screamed that once she put her hand in his, nothing would ever be the same again.
But the storm was dangerous.
The rogues were deadly.
And she didn't have anywhere else to go.
Slowly, she placed her hand in his.
Warmth shot up her arm.
Not burning.
Not painful.
Just… certainty.
Ronan lifted her into the sled with effortless ease. She barely had time to react before he climbed in beside her. The moment he sat, the wolves tensed, ready to run.
Aria grabbed the side of the sled. "Wait—run? How fast are we going—?"
Ronan placed a steadying hand over hers.
"Hold on to me," he said.
Her breath hitched. "W-what?"
"It's safer," he added, a bit gruffly. "The terrain is steep."
She swallowed, then slowly wrapped her arms around his forearm. His muscles tightened beneath her touch—from tension, not discomfort.
"Ready?" he called out.
The wolves barked once in unison.
"Go."
⸻
The Ride Through the Mountains
The sled shot forward with breathtaking speed. Aria gasped, gripping Ronan's arm tightly as snow flew around them like glittering shards.
The wolves ran with impossible grace, their forms cutting through the storm as if the wind itself bent around them. The sled bounced over frozen drifts but remained steady, almost guided by unseen force.
Aria's heart raced, but after the first few jolts, something else filled her—
A strange, overwhelming sense of wonder.
The mountains stretched on endlessly, sharp silhouettes against the stormy sky. The wind whistled past her ears, but she felt safe—anchored by Ronan's solid presence beside her.
He glanced at her. "You're not terrified."
"I was…" she admitted, "but this is… beautiful."
His eyes softened again. "Most humans never get to see this."
"But I'm not fully human, right?"
"No," he said quietly. "You're something wolves fear… and revere."
Aria looked down at her glowing wrist.
The light had dimmed, but the mark was still visible under her skin.
"What does the mark do?" she asked.
Ronan exhaled slowly. "It binds you to your mate."
Her pulse quickened.
"You."
Ronan didn't deny it.
"It gives you strength," he said. "But also vulnerability. As long as the bond is incomplete, you feel what I feel. And I feel what you do."
Heat rushed into Aria's cheeks.
"Is… is that why you knew I was scared earlier?"
"Yes," he murmured. "And why you felt my danger during the fight."
She stared at the snow, heart heavy.
"So everything I feel… affects you too?"
"Yes."
She swallowed.
"That sounds… dangerous."
"For both of us," he admitted.
Their eyes met.
And in that moment, the world around them—snow, wolves, mountains—all faded.
There was only the bond humming softly beneath her skin.
And Ronan watching her like she was the one thing in the world he didn't know how to fight.
⸻
Arrival at Frostfall
After what felt like both seconds and hours, the wolves slowed. The trees parted, revealing a sight so breathtaking Aria forgot how to breathe.
A vast fortress rose from the mountainside—stone towers crowned with frost, glowing windows casting warm light into the snow. Bridges arched between watchtowers, and wolves patrolled the walls like guardians of an ancient kingdom.
Frostfall.
Her new reality.
Aria stared in awe. "This is… your home?"
"Ours," Ronan corrected softly.
"For now."
The sled stopped. Wolves bowed their heads to Ronan as he stepped down.
He turned and extended his hand to her again.
"Welcome to Frostfall, Aria."
She placed her hand in his—
And the mark on her wrist sparked softly.
As if whispering:
You're home.