"Again!"
"Please, my lord—have mercy…"
*Crack!*
The sound of the whip sliced through the early dusk air, snapping Blue wide awake. Her heart leapt to her throat.
Another lash.
Another scream.
Shaken, Blue rose from the thin mattress, her limbs stiff and heavy. She tiptoed barefoot out of the tent, drawn toward the source of the noise. The sky had begun its slow bleed into violet; the last stretch of daylight slipping away as cold wind bit her skin.
She didn't care.
All she had done was sleep. Or try to. Dasia had brought another plate earlier, and just like the others, it remained untouched. Blue would rather starve to death than become their pawn. Whatever these cursed mates had in store, she refused to surrender easily.
The sound grew louder. She crept around one of the larger trees marking the outer edge of camp and froze.
A circle of warriors stood gathered. In the center, a naked man knelt on bloodstained snow, his back split open in thick red streaks. His hands trembled as the guards held him in place, the whip still curled in one man's hand, dripping with punishment.
"You should have thought about the consequences before stealing," Draven's cold voice rang out.
There he was—commanding as always, surrounded by his brothers and soldiers. His coat flared in the wind, dark eyes colder than the ice beneath her feet.
"Again," he ordered.
The whip rose.
Blue flinched just as his head snapped toward her.
Their eyes locked and her breath caught.
She didn't realize she'd been holding onto the bark of the tree until someone touched her shoulder.
She spun around in panic.
"Dasia," she gasped.
The girl pulled her away, hurrying her back to the tent.
"You should be getting ready. We're departing soon."
Blue struggled to keep up, still shaken. "What was his offense?"
Dasia paused, already gathering Blue's few things. "As you heard, he stole. And Draven never forgives a thief."
"But don't you think the punishment's too harsh?"
Dasia tilted her head. "Whose punishment?"
"The thief."
She scoffed lightly. "Things may have been done differently in Albenia, but this is Winter Pack. Here, a lesson learned is a lesson never repeated. Now—get ready. Once the horn sounds, we're gone."
She swept out of the tent, leaving Blue with nothing but silence and her racing thoughts.
---
The horn eventually blew. And like before, they traveled under the blanket of night.
But this time, Blue didn't sleep.
She sat upright inside the narrow carriage, eyes fixed on the small window carved out at shoulder level. The ride was just as miserable, back aching, cold sinking into her skin. Time dragged like wet cloth, and somewhere in the quiet lull of the forest, her eyes grew heavy.
She didn't remember dozing off.
Until the wet lick on her chin snapped her awake.
Her eyes flew open—face to face with a massive red Lycan. Fangs bared. Eyes burning. It growled low, its hot breath spreading over her face.
She screamed and scrambled backward, slamming into the opposite end of the carriage.
The beast... smiled.
Mocked her.
Then disappeared, leaping away from the carriage.
Her heart thundered so hard her vision blurred. Clutching her chest, Blue muttered curses under her breath, trying to steady her breathing. Sleep did not come again.
---
By morning, the pack stopped once more to rest.
Blue was weaker than before.
Her limbs trembled with every movement, and her vision blurred from hunger. She had not eaten a real meal since Albenia. Her plan to starve herself in protest now felt less like power and more like slow death.
Dasia brought food again, this time steaming hot. The scent of seasoned broth and bread made Blue's mouth water, yet she still turned away.
She would not yield.
She laid down on the tiny cot, chest tight, the hunger clawing at her. Then—
A cold growl sliced through the tent like a blade.
Blue sat up sharply.
The red Lycan stood near her cot, chest heaving. Behind him stood Draven, flanked by Laziel's gray lycan and Kael. Her breath hitched.
The red beast… it had been Kael all along.
"If you wish to starve to death," Draven said flatly, "then do it later. Not now."
His voice rolled over her like frost.
She looked up—straight into his eyes. Icy
and Dangerous.
Then he stepped closer.
"You will eat. Now."
Another girl, not Dasia, entered quietly with a fresh tray. She set it down and quickly left.
Blue turned her back to them all.
"I do not wish to eat," she muttered.
Three growls rumbled in unison behind her. Bone-deep. Terrifying.
She felt the tension before she saw it.
When she turned, the three stood like shadows around her bed, their gazes piercing. Draven stepped forward again, hands tucked into his coat, every line of his body screaming dominance.
"You will eat," he repeated, "whether I force it down your throat or you eat it yourself."
His eyes flared a brilliant, unnatural blue.
The frost heart.
She felt it—knew it. The temperature dropped. Her fingertips began to numb. Frost crept across the canvas floor of the tent.
Her lungs seized and she couldn't breathe.
Everyone in Albenia knew the legend of the frost heart—the cursed river the triplets drank from, the source of their terrifying power. It was what buried her kingdom in five years of unrelenting winter.
And now… that power turned its sights on her.
She reached for the food.
One bite.
Then another.
She ate everything on the plate, too afraid to stop. Their eyes never left her.
When she was done, she wiped her mouth slowly and said, "I request a maid to assist with my bath. I was not allowed to bring one from home, but I need one."
There was silence.
Then Draven replied, his voice laced with disdain, "This is not home, princess. Here in Winter, every man handles himself. There are no maids to serve you."
With that, they turned and left.
Blue sat motionless, her chest caved and then the tears came.
She cried silently, face buried in her hands. Cried until the chill in her bones numbed the ache in her heart. In her dreams, she was home—warm, safe, surrounded by her mother, father, and Kraven. Laughing over tea, as if none of this had happened.
She wished never to wake.
But wishes did not stop the hand shaking her roughly from sleep.
"Princess, get up!"
It was Dasia again, frantic this time.
Blue blinked, groggy. "What…"
"You didn't hear the horns. We're departing now! Your tent's still standing, your belongings unpacked, and the pack is already gone!"
Blue sat upright. "Wait—what about my things?!"
Dasia grabbed her wrist, dragging her out. "Forget the things! There's a bear pack heading this way. You'll die here!"
They reached the horses in record time. Blue saw no carriage.
"Where is it?! I don't know how to ride!"
"There's no time for lessons!" Dasia shouted, throwing Blue onto the saddle. She climbed on behind and spurred the horse forward.
Blue barely had time to look back—but when she did, she saw her lonely tent still standing in the middle of the empty clearing. No one else had come to wake her. Not even them.
Her so-called mates. Her husbands.
They had left her behind without hesitation.
If Dasia hadn't returned for her, she would have been abandoned. Alone. Defenseless.
They had no love for her. No warmth.
Not even obligation. Just cruelty dressed in power.
Bastards.