Chapter 1

Rhys

The snow falls thick and fast, blanketing the forest in a heavy silence that presses against the windows of my truck. The heater gave out an hour ago, the cold creeping in through every crack, gnawing at the edges of my control. I clutch the steering wheel tighter, guiding the vehicle along the slick, winding road carved through the deep woods. The tires protest with every turn, skidding slightly even at my cautious pace. It’s dark, and the storm shows no sign of letting up. I need to find somewhere to stop—soon.

A faint glimmer of hope flares when I see the welcoming lights of a small mountain town up ahead. Relief floods through me. I’ll pull in and see if I can get the truck fixed in the morning. It’s not much, but it’ll get me through the night. I’m no stranger to bad weather or worse roads, but even I know better than to keep going in this mess.

As I round a bend, the truck lurches—violently. A metallic groan cuts through the howling wind, followed by a loud pop . The dashboard warning lights flash in eerie sync, painting the cab in strobes of red. I fight the wheel as the truck swerves toward the side of the road, trading forward momentum for shuddering stillness as it finally dies. My breath fogs up the windshield as I sit there for a long moment, bitterly aware that no amount of cursing will make my ancient truck roar back to life.

With a growl, I shove the door open. The icy wind cuts through me like a knife the second I step out, each breath sharp as broken glass in my lungs. I lift the hood, but it’s no use—I don’t need a mechanic to tell me the old girl isn’t going anywhere tonight.

And then it hits me—the scent. Wolves. Faint but growing stronger. Pine, frost, earth, and the distinct tang of pack territory. My jaw tightens, and deep in my chest, my wolf bristles. I’d planned to keep my distance, just passing through the outskirts of whatever pack this is, but fate has other ideas. Now I’m stranded on their land, a lone wolf on the border of a territory I have no business being in.

I could shift. Curl up as a wolf under the tree line and wait out the storm. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve spent a night keeping warm with fur rather than fire. But I’m not sure even my wolf can handle this level of cold without shelter. And I’ve had my fill of freezing nights.

I square my shoulders, dig out what’s left of my pride, and take a step toward the lights in the distance.

I haven’t walked far when a low growl rumbles through the trees, followed by the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow. I stop, my muscles coiled and ready for whatever comes next. A group of wolves emerges from the shadows, their expressions hard and unwelcoming.

At their center is a man who radiates authority. The alpha. His piercing green eyes lock onto mine, and I know I’ve just walked into trouble.

“Who are you?” he demands, his voice sharp.

I raise both hands, palms out, trying for calm submission. “My truck broke down not far back,” I say. My voice scratches at my throat from hours of disuse. “I’m not looking for trouble. Just passing through.”

The alpha’s eyes flick past me toward the snow-covered trees, his jaw tightening. “No lone wolf just ‘passes through’ without a reason. State your business.”

“I don’t have any business,” I reply evenly. “Truck’s dead, the storm’s getting worse, and I figured your pack might take pity on a guy just trying not to freeze to death.” I hesitate, knowing better than to seem like I’m making demands. “I’ll shift and spend the night outside if I have to. You won’t even know I’m here.”

The footing here is dicey. Any sign of weakness could provoke aggression, but sounding too firm might get me into the fight I’m trying to avoid. I tread the line carefully, watching tension ripple through the alpha’s broad frame as he casts a questioning glance at one of the other wolves flanking him. Their answer is clear in the set of their shoulders and the tilt of their heads: He’s not trustworthy.

“I don’t think—” the alpha begins, but his words are cut off by a voice that slices through the tense air like a warm blade.

“Ryan, wait.”

I turn, and there she is. A woman with golden-brown hair that gleams even in the dim light filtering through the snow-covered trees, her amber eyes bright and steady. She’s smaller than the others, but there’s a fire in her that makes her impossible to ignore. My wolf stirs, a low hum of recognition buzzing through my veins, and I force it down.

Her gaze flickers to me, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us. There’s something about her—something that feels like warmth on a frozen night. Dangerous. I look away, focusing on the ground at my feet.

“Who is this?” she asks, her voice soft but firm as she directs her question to the alpha—Ryan, apparently. Her tone carries a quiet authority that makes even him hesitate.

“A lone wolf,” Ryan says, his words clipped. “He has no business here.”

She crosses her arms, her expression thoughtful. “It’s almost Christmas,” she says after a pause. “Do we really want to turn someone away in weather like this?”

Ryan frowns, his jaw tightening. “Hannah—”

“Just for the night,” she presses, stepping closer to him. “We can spare a room in the guest cabin. It’s the season of giving, isn’t it?”

Ryan’s eyes flick back to me, his suspicion clear. He doesn’t like this. But after a long moment, he sighs and steps back. “One night,” he says, his voice laced with warning. “And if you cause any trouble, you’re out.”

“That’s fine,” I say, my voice even. “I won’t be any trouble.”

Ryan gestures for one of the enforcers to escort me, but before they can move, the woman—Hannah—steps forward. “I’ll take him,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. Ryan gives her a pointed look, but she ignores it, already turning toward the path.

I hesitate, my instincts screaming at me to keep my distance. But the promise of warmth—of even a temporary reprieve—pulls me forward. I follow her in silence, my senses hyper-aware of every movement she makes. The scent of pine and cinnamon lingers in the air around her, a stark contrast to the icy chill that clings to everything else. It’s… comforting. Too comforting. And that in itself feels dangerous.

Then it happens.

The moment I step closer, her scent hits me with a force that nearly drives me to my knees. Not just pine and cinnamon—it’s her. Mine. The word tears through my mind, primal and absolute. My wolf surges forward, a growl rumbling low in my chest. It’s her. My mate. The one I thought I’d never find, the one I didn’t believe I deserved.

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to reach out, to claim her right here and now. The bond snaps taut between us, sharp and undeniable, and it’s as though every inch of me is on fire. She turns to face me, her amber eyes bright with curiosity, completely unaware of the chaos she’s just unleashed inside me.

“Here we are,” she says, her voice light and cheerful as she pushes the door open to a small cabin, the snow piled high on its roof. She doesn’t know. How could she? She doesn’t feel the same pull I do—not yet.

The warmth spilling out through the doorway is almost enough to make me sag with relief, but it’s nothing compared to the inferno raging in my chest. My wolf paces restlessly inside me, snarling at my hesitation. Mate. Protect her. Claim her. She’s ours.

I force the growl back down, locking my wolf away with sheer willpower. I can’t afford to lose control—not now. Not when everything about this moment is wrong. She deserves more than this wreck of a man, more than whatever broken pieces I have left to give.

“Thank you,” I manage to say, the words stiff and unfamiliar on my tongue. My voice sounds rougher than usual, strained with the effort of keeping myself in check.

Hannah smiles—a small, fleeting curve of her lips that sends a strange warmth through me. “Goodnight,” she says, her voice soft. And then she’s gone, leaving me alone in the quiet of the cabin.

I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the door she just walked through. My wolf is restless, pacing in the back of my mind. I don’t know what it is about her, but she’s already under my skin. And that’s a problem.

I didn’t come here looking for anything more than shelter. But as I lean back against the wall, the faint scent of pine and cinnamon still lingering, I realize I might have found something I wasn’t ready for.

Something I might not be able to walk away from.