The autumn wind carried the scent of pine and decaying leaves as I pressed my daughter tighter against my chest.
Her tiny fingers clutched the frayed edge of the blanket, the only thing I’d managed to save when they cast me out.
6 months had passed since the rejection ceremony.
6 months since my true mate looked at me with cold eyes and declared me unworthy before the entire pack.
6 months of surviving on the edges of territory that once felt like home.
My status as a rejected omega hung around my neck like a brand of shame.
Everything will be all right, little one, I whispered to Sophia as she fussed in my arms.
Her silvery white hair, so like mine, caught the last golden rays of the setting sun.
We’ll find somewhere to shelter before dark.
The forest grew thicker as we moved away from the settled lands of the golden ring pack.
Trees stood like silent sentinels, guarding the borders between worlds.
I’d heard whispers about no man’s lands beyond the northern ridge, deep in the Siberian wilderness.
A place where lone wolves sometimes built modest existences, away from pack politics and hierarchy.
It was all I wanted now, a quiet place to raise my daughter, free from judgmental staires and whispers of contempt.
My grandmother’s voice echoed in my memory as I pushed through dense undergrowth.
The greatest strength of an omega is not in claws or teeth.
Anastasia.
But in her heart, she’d given me her silver pendant the day before she died.
A moonstone, a crescent embracing a small star.
The same talisman that now hung at my neck, a charm against the darkness that sometimes threatened to swallow me.
When everything else is taken, this heart will show you the way home.
I no longer knew where home was, but I knew I had to keep moving.
The first raindrops began to fall as light faded.
Sophia whimpered, sensing my anxiety as I scanned the surroundings for shelter.
The territorial markers had changed.
The scent became unfamiliar and frightening.
I’d wandered too far north, I realized with growing horror.
These weren’t no man’s lands, but the outskirts of Siberian territory, ruled by the most formidable alpha in a generation.
Stories about the northern supreme alpha circulated even in our isolated village, his ruthlessness in battle, his unyielding character, the prosperity of his pack earned through blood and iron will.
No omega would find refuge here, especially one bearing the scent of another pack, another alpha.
“We’ll turn back,” I murmured to Sophia, though exhaustion pressed on me like stones.
We hadn’t eaten properly in days.
The small pouch of supplies I’d managed to gather was nearly empty, and game had become scarce with winter’s approach.
But the alternative, being discovered here, seemed far worse than hunger.
That’s when I heard it.
A plaintive quiet whimper carried by the wind.
I froze.
Instincts wared inside me.
The sound repeated.
the unmistakable cry of a small pup in distress.
Every cell in my body urged me to keep moving to protect my own child first.
But the omega in me, keeper of the hearth, couldn’t ignore that sound.
I hesitated only a moment before changing direction, following the crying deeper into the tiger.
Rain intensified, soaking through my worn cloak as I navigated between massive cedar trunks and mosscovered stones.
Sophia remained surprisingly quiet, as if understanding the gravity of our situation.
I found the pup huddled in the hollow of a fallen oak.
His small body trembled with cold and fear.
He couldn’t be more than four or 5 years old, old enough to shift, but too young not to fear separation from his pack.
His fur was dark as midnight with a distinctive silver marking on his muzzle.
An unusual coloring that stirred some distant memory, but I couldn’t grasp it.
“It’s all right,” I said gently, crouching despite mud soaking through my already damp clothes.
“I won’t hurt you,” the pup growled, a sound so disproportionate to his tiny size that I almost smiled despite our precarious position.
“Brave little one, aren’t you?” I carefully set Sophia on a relatively dry patch of ground under the shelter of roots, leaving her wrapped in the blanket.
You’re lost.
The growling subsided as the pup assessed me.
His intelligent eyes seemed to understand I posed no threat.
A moment later, he shifted.
The shimmer of transformation revealed a small boy with tousled black hair and tear tracks on his cheeks.
My papa will find me, he declared with all the conviction a child could muster, though his trembling lip betrayed uncertainty.
He’s the strongest wolf in the whole world.
I’m sure he is, I agreed, removing my wet cloak and draping it over his shoulders.
And I’m sure he’s searching for you right now, but until he finds you, how about getting warm and dry? It’s not good for pups to be in the rain.
He glanced at Sophia.
Curiosity momentarily overpowered fear.
Is she a wolf, too? Yes, I answered and familiar.
Pain rose in my chest, though she’s too young to shift.
Too young to know that her mother’s banishment from the pack would mark her, too.
That the life I’d once imagined for her was destroyed before she took her first breath.
I’m Artum, the boy introduced himself, moving closer to examine Sophia, who cooed and reached for him with chubby fingers.
I’m Anastasia, I said.
And this is Sophia.
Thunder rumbled overhead and Artum flinched, instinctively moving closer to me.
I gathered both children under the meager shelter of the hollow, using my body’s warmth to heat them as the storm intensified.
We need better shelter, I murmured, more to myself than to Artum.
Night was falling rapidly, and with it the temperature.
A wet, cold night in the taigga could be deadly for young ones.
“There’s a cabin,” Artum said suddenly, pointing deeper into the forest.
“Papa showed me.
It’s not far.
” Every instinct warned me against going deeper into northern territory, but with each passing minute, the alternative seemed worse.
“Can you lead us there?” Ardam nodded seriously, slipping his small hand into mine with surprising trust.
I gathered Sophia again, and we set out through the downpour, led by the child of the very kingdom I’d so desperately tried to avoid.
The abandoned cabin was close, its log walls partially hidden behind a curtain of hanging branches and moss.
Inside was blessedly dry.
Old boards lined the floor instead of dirt.
Even more surprising were signs that someone occasionally used the place.
a stack of dry firewood against one wall.
A crude shelf carved into the logs.
“Papa brings me here sometimes,” Artum explained, his voice echoing slightly inside the structure.
“He says it’s our special place.
” I hesitated at the entrance, suddenly aware we were intruding on someone’s personal refuge.
“Artum, whose special place is this? I don’t want to trespass.
” “It’s okay,” he assured me with childish confidence.
“Papa won’t mind.
He says we should as we always help those who need it.
His words didn’t quite calm me, but the storm outside had reached full fury.
I had no choice.
Moving quickly, I set about making the space comfortable, using the firewood to light a small fire in the old potbelly stove.
Warmth gradually spread through the cabin, and I settled Sophia on my lap while using the edge of her blanket to dry Artum’s hair.
Your papa sounds like a wise man, I said, trying to maintain light conversation while assessing our situation.
We were protected from the elements.
But now I worried about the owner of this refuge returning and finding uninvited guests.
He’s the wisest and strongest, Artum declared proudly.
Everyone has to do what he says.
I smiled at his innocent boasting.
And what does your mama think about that? His face fell instantly, and I regretted the question.
I don’t have a mama, he said quietly.
She died when I was born.
Papa says she watches me from the moon.
I’m so sorry.
Artum whispered, my heart squeezing with pain for this child who’d never known a mother’s love.
Without thinking, I reached out and brushed hair from his forehead.
A gesture my own mother had often used to comfort me.
He leaned into my hand, and that simple gesture of comfort seemed to break a dam.
Suddenly, he was crying.
Not frightened tears of a lost child, but deep, body-shaking sobs of one who’d held grief inside too long.
I pulled him close, rocking both him and Sophia as the storm raged outside.
“It’s okay to cry,” I murmured, gently swaying.
“Even the bravest wolves cry sometimes.
” Eventually, his sob subsided, and he pulled back, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.
Papa doesn’t cry, he said with absolute certainty.
Maybe not where you can see, I answered carefully.
But I think he has sad moments, too.
Artum seemed to ponder this revolutionary idea.
As I made our temporary shelter more comfortable, I found a small bundle of dried herbs hanging on these shelf medicinal plants that could be brewed in hot water.
Using a small pot stored with the firewood, I melted snow from outside and brewed simple tea.
This will warm us from the inside, I explained, letting it cool before offering some to Artum.
It was even chai.
I dripped a tiny amount on my finger for Sophia, who greedily sucked it.
Her little face lit up at the sweet taste.
I’d added some honey found there.
As we sat in the firelight, Artum gradually relaxed, telling me stories about his pack with the defenseless openness of childhood.
I listened, learning more about the Siberian domains than any outsider probably ever knew, though through the prism of a child’s understanding.
He spoke of his father with unwavering admiration, of pack territories that stretched farther than one could run in a whole day, of the massive fortress-like settlement that served as the pack’s gathering center.
“Where were you today?” I asked gently.
“When you got separated from the pack?” Artum’s expression became guilty.
Papa was busy with the council.
I was supposed to stay with Anton.
He’s my guard.
But I wanted to explore the forest.
His lower lip trembled again.
Papa will be angry.
I think he’ll be more relieved than angry.
I assured him, though I wondered if that was true.
Alphas, in my experience, ruled their packs with strict discipline.
A child who wandered off without permission might face harsh consequences, even one as young as Artum.
The storm showed no signs of lessening.
Night deepened.
Sophia fell asleep in my lap, her small chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath.
Artum valiantly fought sleep, his eyelids growing heavy as he insisted between yawns that his father would find him soon.
“Why don’t we rest while we wait?” I suggested, spreading my cloak and Sophia’s blanket to create an improvised bed by the stove.
Your papa might not be able to pick up the trail until the rain stops.
Finally, he nodded, crawling onto the makeshift bed and curling up like a pup.
I laid Sophia beside him, smiling when Artum instinctively curved his body around hers in a protective gesture.
I stayed awake, feeding wood to the fire and listening to the storm.
My grandmother’s pendant, the silver moonstone, felt warm against my skin, as if responding to some invisible energy.
In the morning, I’d need to help Artum find his way back to the pack.
A dangerous proposition for a rejected Omega bearing the scent of another territory.
But I couldn’t abandon the child, especially one who’d shown such trust.
As I stared into the flames, a new scent cut through the cabin’s smoky air.
Powerful, primal, unmistakably alpha.
I jerked my head up as a massive shadow fell across the cabin entrance.
The northern alpha stood in the doorway, silhouette against the night.
Rain streamed from his broad shoulders.
Eyes reflected fire light like burning golden coins.
Power emanated from him in tangible waves, pinning me in place as effectively as a physical blow.
Our gazes met across the fire, and in that instant, I knew my fate had irreversibly changed.
Time seemed to stop as the alpha’s gaze moved from me to the sleeping children.
I instinctively shifted to stand between him and them, though I knew the gesture was useless.
If he wanted to harm us, my fragile omega body would offer no resistance to his strength.
Please, I whispered, the word barely audible over the crackle of fire and storm outside.
The boy was lost.
I only wanted to keep him safe until morning.
The alpha stepped fully into the cabin.
Water dripped from his dark clothing onto the wooden floor.
In the fire light, I could see him clearly, tall and powerfully built, with features as if carved from stone.
His hair was black like artums, with striking silver at the temples that matched the boy’s unusual markings in wolf form.
The resemblance was unmistakable.
“You found my son,” he said.
His voice was deep and controlled, betraying nothing of his thoughts.
I nodded, unable to speak as his scent filled the small space.
Pine, snow, and something wild that made my heart race in primal recognition.
This was no ordinary alpha, but one of the purest bloodlines, his power, ancient and undiluted.
He approached closer, and I pressed against the log wall, expecting anger or violence for my intrusion.
Instead, he knelt beside the sleeping children.
One large hand hovered over Ardum’s head before gently smoothing the boy’s tousled hair.
He was frightened, I managed to say, finding my voice.
Cold and wet from the storm.
I couldn’t leave him.
The alpha’s eyes returned to me, and something unreadable flashed in their depths.
“No,” he said.
“You couldn’t.
” His gaze dropped to Sophia, taking in her delicate features, her silvery white hair so unlike his son’s darkness.
“Your child?” “Yes,” I answered, fighting the urge to snatch her from under his scrutinizing gaze.
“My daughter?” He studied me then, his assessment so thorough I felt naked before him.
I knew what he saw.
A thin, exhausted Omega with a fading rejection mark on her neck.
clothing worn and patched, the unmistakable scent of another territory clinging faintly to skin despite months of wandering.
“You’re far from home, Omega,” he observed.
The statement carried unspoken questions.
“I have no home,” I answered.
The truth escaped before I could think about diplomacy.
“Not anymore.
” Something dangerous flashed in his eyes.
rejected.
I unconsciously touched the mark on my throat.
“Yes, and the child’s father wanted nothing to do with either of us,” I said, bitterness seeping into my voice despite efforts to remain neutral.
He found a more suitable match, one who could give him sons.
The alpha’s jaw clenched almost imperceptibly.
So, you wander hostile territory with an infant on the eve of winter.
Put that way, my desperation sounded like madness.
I was seeking no man’s lands, I explained.
I didn’t mean to trespass on your domain.
When the storm passes, we’ll leave.
He watched me silently for a long time.
The only sound was the children’s quiet breathing and the howling wind outside.
Finally, he spoke, his tone leaving no room for argument.
You’ll come to the manor.
Fear pierced through me.
I can’t.
This isn’t a request, he interrupted, though his voice remained measured.
The storm will last until tomorrow.
The temperature will drop further.
You and your child won’t survive another night in this tiger.
My moonstone seemed to pulse against my skin as I weighed my limited options.
Refusing an alpha of his status wasn’t just unwise, it was potentially deadly.
Yet bringing Sophia into the heart of an unfamiliar pack carried its own dangers.
“I give you my protection,” he added, correctly, reading my hesitation.
“No harm will come to you or your daughter while you’re under my roof.
” The formal declaration struck me.
Protection from a supreme alpha was no small thing, offered neither lightly nor without meaning.
My exhausted mind couldn’t understand why he’d extend such courtesy to a stranger, a rejected Omega from another territory, no less.
“Why?” I asked.
The question escaped before I could stop it.
His eyes flicked to his sleeping son, then back to me.
“You protected what belongs to me.
I pay my debts.
” It was simple calculation of honor, not kindness, but obligation.
Somehow that was easier to accept than pity.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“Well accept your protection until the storm passes.
” He nodded once, then with unexpected gentleness, lifted Artim into his arms.
The boy stirred but didn’t wake, instinctively nestling against his father’s chest.
I gathered Sophia, wrapping her securely in the blanket.
She blinked awake for a moment, her tiny hand reaching to touch my face before she drifted back to sleep, completely trusting my protection.
“Trust,” I prayed not to betray by following this dangerous man.
“Stay close,” the alpha instructed as we stepped into the weather.
“The path isn’t visible in this storm.
” I clutched Sophia tight and followed him into darkness.
Rain instantly soaked through my thin clothing.
Wind cut like knives, and I hunched over Sophia, my body shielding her from the worst.
The alpha moved confidently through the forest, navigating by some internal sense, even as the storm erased any visible path.
After what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, lights appeared through the trees.
Warm golden points against the black night.
As we drew closer, a massive structure emerged from darkness.
A fortress-like settlement of stone and timber, surrounded by high walls, seeming to grow organically from the mountain side.
Guards materialized from shadows as we approached.
Their surprise was evident even through the downpour when they recognized their alpha and the unexpected company he’d brought.
“My alpha,” one began, but was silenced by a sharp look.
Prepare rooms in the east wing, the alpha commanded.
Find dry clothes.
Food.
His gaze flicked to Sophia in my arms.
Milk for the infant.
Inform Elena her services will be needed.
The guard nodded sharply and disappeared inside while another stepped forward to escort us.
I followed, numb and overwhelmed by the manor’s scale as we passed through tall wooden doors into a great dining hall.
Fire blazed in massive hearths, casting dancing shadows on stone floors and wooden beams.
Pack members paused their activities to stare as we passed.
Their expressions ranged from curiosity to outright hostility at the sight of an outsider.
I kept my eyes lowered and Omega’s instinctive reaction to potential threat and pressed Sophia closer as we climbed a broad staircase and moved deeper into the house.
Sergey.
A woman’s voice, sharp with worry, cut through the muted whispers following our progress.
We sent search parties since sunset.
Where did you find him? I looked up to see an approaching older woman, her graying hair elegantly arranged, despite the late hour, her bearing regal.
A beta, I realized probably highranking given her familiar tone with the alpha.
He’s safe, Alpha Sergey replied.
This Omega found him and sheltered him from the storm.
The woman’s shrewd eyes assessed me carefully, taking in my pitiful appearance and the child in my arms.
To her credit, her expression betrayed none of her thoughts.
I’ll take the boy, she offered, reaching for Artum.
No.
Sergey’s refusal was quiet but absolute.
He stays with me tonight.
See to it that our guests are settled in the east quarters.
They’re under my protection.
A flash of surprise crossed her features before she composed herself with practiced grace.
Of course, this way, please.
I followed her through lit corridors, acutely aware of the wet trail I left on polished floors and the stairs of pack members we passed.
Sophia fussed in my arms, whimpering quietly at the unfamiliar surroundings.
“Hush, little one,” I murmured.
We’re safe for now.
The woman, I still didn’t know her name, led us to heavy wooden doors that she pushed open, revealing a spacious room.
Fire already blazed in the hearth, and steaming water filled a copper tub before it.
Fresh clothing lay folded on the massive bed, and a small cradle had been placed nearby.
“These are the alpha’s personal guest quarters,” she explained, tone neutral, but gaze sharp.
“No one has used them in some time.
” The significance wasn’t lost on me.
Placement in the alpha’s wing rather than common guest rooms confirmed his protection to anyone who might question my presence.
“Thank you,” I said, not knowing how else to respond to such unexpected care.
“Ellanena will be with you shortly.
She’s our healer and midwife.
” The woman paused in the doorway.
“I’m Olga, the pack’s first beta.
” “Anastia,” I introduced myself in return.
And this is Sophia.
Something softened momentarily in Olga’s stern features as she looked at my daughter.
How old is she? Four months.
I answered, surprised by the question.
Olga nodded as if confirming something to herself.
Milk and food will be brought.
If you need anything else, pull the bell cord by the bed.
With those words, she withdrew, leaving me alone in quarters more luxurious than any I’d ever occupied, even before my banishment.
The next weeks passed in a blur of adaptation and discovery.
True to Sergey’s word, Sophia and I were housed in rooms within the alpha’s wing, close enough to Artum’s chambers that he could visit daily, which he did with complete enthusiasm.
The boy had formed an attachment to us both that was as touching as it was puzzling given the brevity of our acquaintance.
“He’s never bonded with anyone so quickly,” Elena commented as we worked side by side in the medical wing, sorting dried herbs for winter medicines.
“Not since his mama died.
” I looked up from the bundles of lavender I was tying.
“How long ago was that?” 5 years now, Elena sighed, her skilled hands never ceasing their work.
Difficult birth.
The queen held on long enough to name him, but no more.
It broke something in our alpha, though he’d never admit it.
I thought of Sergei’s stern face, the controlled power emanating from him, the rare moments of tenderness I’d glimped when he looked at his son.
He seems devoted to Artum.
Desperately devoted, Elena agreed, which makes the boy’s freedom to roam the forest all the more surprising.
Before you came, Sergey rarely let him out of sight when not attending to domain business.
The observation hung between us, waited with subtext I wasn’t ready to examine.
Winter deepened around the settlement.
Snow piled in drifts higher than the walls.
Ice formed fantastic sculptures on the waterfall that normally cascaded into the valley below.
Despite occasional tension, there was comfort in the established routine.
Mornings in the medical wing with Elena.
Days often spent with Ardom, who insisted on showing me every corner of his home with proprieial pride.
Sergey himself remained an enigma, present but distant.
I often felt his gaze on me during meals or pack gatherings, but he rarely sought direct conversation, leaving me uncertain about his true thoughts regarding our presence.
The promised private conversation about my grandmother’s pendant and its significance never materialized, postponed by the constant demands of leadership as winter tightened its grip on the kingdom.
It was Artum who ultimately created an opportunity for closer interaction, coming to my quarters one evening with red- rimmed eyes and a fever that made Elena cluck her tongue with concern.
“Winter throat,” she diagnosed, mixing soothing even chai with honey.
“Common in pups his age, nothing serious, but unpleasant.
” “I want you to tell me a story,” Artum insisted horsely, casting pleading glances my way.
“Like in the cabin?” Elena raised an eyebrow, looking at me.
You’ve been hiding talents, my dear.
I didn’t know you were a storyteller.
In truth, I’d simply whispered old pack legends to distract a frightened boy during the storm.
But Artum apparently cherished that memory.
I know a few tales, I admitted.
My grandmother was the history keeper in our pack.
Then it seems you have an assignment, Elena said with a smile, gathering her supplies.
Settle him and make sure he drinks the tea.
I’ll check on him in the morning.
Left alone with the miserable child, I settled by his bed and began a story my grandmother had told me countless times.
The tale of the first Omega Shewolf who discovered healing herbs and saved her pack from deadly fever.
Artum listened with wrapped attention, his discomfort temporarily forgotten as the narrative unfolded.
I was so absorbed in the telling that I didn’t notice Sergey’s arrival until I felt the change in the air.
A new tension, the familiar scent that made me glance toward the doorway.
The alpha stood silently watching, his expressions softer than I’d ever seen as he looked at his son’s enraptured face.
“Don’t stop,” Art protested when I faltered.
“What happened to the brave Omega?” I continued, my voice less certain now that Sergei’s powerful presence filled the room.
When the story ended with the Omega Healer’s recognition as the Pax’s adviser and the Alpha’s counselor, Artum sighed contentedly.
“Another one,” he begged, even as his eyelids drooped with sleep’s weight.
“Tomorrow,” Sergey said, entering fully.
“You need rest now.
” Artum didn’t argue, testament to how poorly he felt.
I rose to leave, but Sergey gestured for me to stay, sitting on the bed’s edge and placing a large hand on his son’s forehead.
The fever is already breaking, I offered quietly.
Elena says it’s just winter throat, common in children.
Sergey nodded, brushing Artum’s dark hair from his face with tenderness that contradicted his fearsome reputation.
He had this last year, too.
I remember those long nights.
The simple admission of shared parental experience created an unexpected bridge between us.
For a moment, we weren’t alpha and omega, king and trespasser, but simply two parents concerned for a child’s comfort.
When Artum finally drifted into sleep, Sergey gestured for me to follow him from the room.
I hesitated, thinking of Sophia alone in our quarters, but he anticipated the concern.
I asked Elena to watch your daughter.
She was sleeping peacefully when I passed your rooms.
The consideration surprised me, as did his next words.
Walk with me, Anastasia.
There are things we must discuss, and I’ve delayed them too long.
He led me through quieter corridors to a part of the manor I hadn’t yet seen.
A small enclosed winter garden, where plants somehow thrived despite the winter outside.
Steam rose from pools of water that must have been fed by hot springs beneath the mountain, creating a microclimate of eternal spring within glass walls.
“My mother created this,” Sergey explained, noting my wonder.
She said, even in the deepest winter, life must be remembered.
He paused by one of the pools, his reflection rippling in the water.
“Your grandmother’s pendant,” he said finally.
“The moonstone.
Do you know its significance? I touched the silver crescent at my throat.
She said it was protection, that it would guide me home when all else was lost.
It’s more than that.
Sergey turned to face me fully.
That symbol marks you as under Siberian protection.
A promise made generations ago when your grandmother saved my grandfather’s life during a border war.
Shock rendered me speechless.
She never claimed the debt, he continued.
never asked for anything in return.
But the promise stands.
Any of her bloodline who bears that mark is entitled to sanctuary in the northern domains.
I didn’t know, I whispered.
She never told me.
Perhaps she thought you’d never need it.
Or perhaps she knew the time wasn’t right.
His golden eyes held mine.
But you’re here now, and that changes everything.
That what do you mean your rejection? Sergey said voice hardening.
By pack law, a male who rejects his mate while she carries his child commits a grievous crime.
Your former pack violated not only their own laws, but also the protection owed to you.
That’s Eastern Pack business, I said quickly, alarmed by the dangerous gleam in his eyes.
I’m not seeking vengeance.
Perhaps you should be,” he countered.
“If not for yourself, then for your daughter, whose birthright was stolen.
” His words stirred something painful and long suppressed.
Not just grief over my rejection, but fury at the injustice done to Sophia, who would grow up without pack, without the protection and community that should have been hers by right.
“What would you have me do?” I asked quietly.
I have no standing to challenge Packlaw.
Sergey’s smile was cold and sharp as the winter moon.
You may not, but I do.
The Siberian domains have long memories.
Anastasia of the golden ring and your grandmothers.
Moonstone marks you as ours to protect.
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the warm, moist air of the garden.
Stay, he said simply, not as a guest, but as pack.
Let me give Sophia the birthright that was stolen.
Let me give you the home you deserve.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
You’re offering me a place in your pack.
I’m offering you more than that.
His hand came up, fingers gently touching the moonstone pendant.
But first, you need to decide if you’re ready to claim what’s yours.
The pendant pulsed warm against my skin, as if answering some question I hadn’t yet asked.
And looking into Sergei’s golden eyes, I realized my journey north hadn’t been desperate flight.
It had been coming home.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I’m ready.
” His smile transformed his stern face into something almost tender.
“Then, welcome home, Anastasia.
You and your daughter both.
” Outside the glass walls, snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in white.
But inside, surrounded by impossible spring and the warmth of an alpha’s protection, I felt something I hadn’t felt in months.
Hope.
And perhaps, just perhaps, the beginning of something more.
