The ride to the northern ridge had been a frantic blur of cold wind and calculated misdirection. By the time Draven's elite guards intercepted Valerie's scouts, the foreign wolves claimed they had merely "lost their bearings" in the dense southern terrain. The immediate threat to the hidden sanctuary had been neutralized, but the psychological damage was done. The ice beneath my feet was cracking, and Draven knew it.
When we finally returned to the mansion, the midnight air was heavy with the promise of a snowstorm. The elders and foreign guests had retired to their respective wings, leaving the main house cloaked in a tense, echoing quiet.
Draven didn't say a word as he gripped my wrist and led me past the grand staircase, straight into the master suite. This wasn't the guest room I had
