“You should’ve died with your parents.”
The words came from one of the guards riding beside the prison wagon.
Freya kept her eyes shut.
Not because she was weak.
Because if she looked at them right now, she might actually scream.
Rainwater dripped through the wooden roof above her, soaking the thin gray cloak thrown over her shoulders. Her wrists were still chained behind her back. Silver restraints.
Strong enough to burn.
Every bump in the road sent pain through her arms.
Neither guard cared.
“She’s quiet now,” the second one muttered.
“Probably realizing nobody’s coming for her.”
Laughter followed.
Freya bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood.
Nobody’s coming for her.
The worst part?
They were probably right.
Three days ago she had been Luna of Black River Pack.
Now she was locked inside a cage like an animal while the entire pack celebrated her downfall.
Her wolf stirred weakly inside her.
Hurting.
Mate bonds weren’t supposed to feel like this.
Even now, she could still feel Logan through the connection.
Distant. Cold.
It made everything worse.
Freya slowly opened her eyes and stared through the wagon bars at the dark forest passing outside.
“How much farther?”
One of the guards smirked. “Scared?”
“I asked a question.”
“Few hours.”
The other guard glanced back at her. “Doesn’t matter anyway. You won’t survive the night.”
Freya said nothing.
The wagon rolled over rough ground before suddenly slowing.
Voices drifted from outside.
“Open the gate!”
Metal chains rattled.
A checkpoint.
Freya frowned slightly.
Forbidden Mountain territory was isolated. Nobody came here willingly.
One of the guards climbed down from the wagon. “Stay put.”
“As if I have options,” Freya muttered.
The second guard snorted.
Outside, several wolves spoke in low voices.
Then—
“…heard the creatures tore apart an entire patrol last month…”
“…Alpha should’ve just killed her instead…”
“…nobody comes back from there…”
Freya’s stomach tightened.
She had heard stories about Forbidden Mountain since childhood.
Rogue Lycans.
Monsters.
Ancient beasts.
Mad wolves driven insane by bloodlust.
Most people believed the place was cursed.
And now Logan had sent her there without hesitation.
A sharp ache spread through her chest again.
Stop thinking about him.
But memories came anyway.
Logan pulling her into his lap during pack meetings because he “missed her.”
Logan kissing her knuckles absentmindedly while reading reports.
Logan saying:
You’re mine, Freya. Always.
Freya shut her eyes hard.
Liar.
The wagon suddenly jerked forward again.
One of the guards climbed back up. “Move.”
Hours passed slowly after that.
The rain stopped.
The trees became thicker.
Darker.
Even the air smelled strange here.
Freya noticed it immediately.
Not pack scent.
Not rogue scent either.
Something older.
Predatory.
By sunset, the horses had become restless.
The wagon rattled violently as one of them whined.
“Easy,” the driver snapped.
Another growl echoed somewhere deep in the forest.
Low.
Heavy.
The horses panicked instantly.
“What the hell was that?”
“No idea. Keep moving.”
Freya felt her wolf recoil inside her.
Danger.
Not even the guards were talking anymore.
The deeper they traveled, the quieter the forest became.
No birds.
No insects.
Nothing.
Then—
SNAP.
Something moved beside the wagon.
One guard stood immediately. “Who’s there?”
No answer.
Only trees.
The second guard cursed under his breath. “I don’t like this.”
Another movement.
Closer this time.
The horses screamed.
A massive dark shape flashed between the trees.
Freya’s breath caught.
“What the fuck—”
The wagon suddenly tipped violently sideways.
Everyone shouted.
Freya slammed against the wooden wall as the entire carriage crashed into the mud.
The horses shrieked in terror.
One of the guards shifted instantly into wolf form and lunged toward the trees.
A second later—
he screamed.
Not a normal scream.
A dying scream.
Wet.
Short.
Then silence.
Freya’s blood went cold.
The remaining guard stumbled backward. “Run! RUN—”
Something enormous exploded out of the darkness.
Freya only saw pieces of it.
Black fur.
Golden eyes.
Teeth.
The guard didn’t even finish shifting before the creature hit him.
Blood sprayed across the wagon.
Freya froze.
Her heartbeat pounded so loudly she could barely hear anything else.
The creature lifted its head slowly.
Huge.
Bigger than any wolf she had ever seen.
Not normal Alpha size.
Not even close.
Golden eyes locked onto hers through the broken wagon.
Freya stopped breathing.
The wolf stared at her silently.
Rainwater dripped from its dark fur.
Its chest rose once.
Twice.
Then it began walking toward her.
Slowly.
Freya tried to move backward instinctively, but the chains stopped her.
Her pulse spiraled.
This is it.
This is how she dies.
Not beside her mate.
Not as a Luna.
Alone. Broken. Forgotten.
The creature stopped inches from the wagon.
Close enough now that she could see scars across its muzzle.
Its eyes weren’t animal eyes.
Too intelligent.
Too aware.
Freya’s voice barely came out. “Please…”
The wolf tilted its head slightly.
Then suddenly—
it shifted.
Freya gasped.
Bones cracked violently.
Muscles twisted.
Dark fur disappeared beneath skin.
A man emerged from the shadows.
Tall.
Barefoot.
Half-covered in blood.
Freya stared at him in shock.
Black hair.
Sharp jaw.
Broad shoulders covered in scars.
But it was his eyes that terrified her most.
Gold.
The same gold as the wolf.
He looked down at the dead guards briefly before turning toward her again.
Freya’s throat went dry.
She knew immediately who this had to be.
Everyone in the northern territories knew the stories.
The monster prince.
The cursed Lycan.
Ryder.
He walked toward the broken wagon without hurry.
Freya pressed herself against the wood instinctively.
Ryder crouched in front of her.
Up close, his presence was overwhelming.
Not Alpha.
Something worse.
Something ancient.
His gaze moved slowly over her face before landing on the silver chains around her wrists.
“Pack exile?” he asked casually.
His voice was deep. Calm.
Like the bodies around them meant nothing.
Freya swallowed hard. “They sent me here.”
“Obviously.”
She flinched slightly at the sarcasm.
Ryder reached out suddenly.
Freya tensed—
but instead of touching her skin, he grabbed the chain between her wrists.
Snap.
The silver restraints shattered instantly.
Freya stared at him.
Silver was supposed to weaken wolves.
He broke it like glass.
Ryder noticed her expression.
A faint smile appeared.
Dangerous.
Amused.
“You’re looking at me like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Freya rubbed her burning wrists slowly. “You’re Ryder.”
“Good. Saves time.”
He stood again.
Freya quickly looked around at the forest.
Darkness had almost fully settled now.
“What happens now?”
Ryder glanced toward the mountain behind him.
Then back at her.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
His golden eyes held hers for a long moment.
“Whether they knew what you really are before they threw you in my territory.”
