Adrian’s POV

I never wanted to come here.

If it weren’t for my mother, I wouldn’t have agreed to accompany Uncle Maxwell to Frostshadow Pack. She begged me to support him, said it was time to “put the pack first” and “let go of the past.”

Let go of the past? She meant my father.

It’s only been a few months since we buried him, and already Maxwell was sitting in his chair, wearing the title of Alpha like it had always belonged to him. The Stormhowl council stood behind him. So did my mother.

“You’re still young, Adrian,” she told me. “Stormhowl needs stability after the Rogue attacks. Your uncle can offer that now. He has more experience.”

I’d heard it all before. Over and over. Stability. Strength. Survival.

But the truth was simpler—my mother loved Maxwell, having fallen for her husband’s brother. She wanted peace. Even if it meant betraying everything my father stood for. Even if it meant handing the pack over to Maxwell and asking me to smile through it.

So here I was, not as the rightful Alpha of Stormhowl, but as a quiet, obedient guest following Maxwell’s lead like one of his guards. Just another son of the dead Alpha.

The Frostshadow lands were nothing like Stormhowl’s warm, sunlit beaches. Alaska’s winter felt hollow and gray, as if the cold here didn’t just bite your skin but settled deep into your bones. The snow fell slow and heavy, quieting the world like a blanket no one asked for.

I skipped the banquet.

Maxwell said Alpha James was throwing a celebration tonight, something about the end of the hunting festival. A banquet full of roasted meat, fine wine, and political smiles.

No thanks.

I headed to the frozen lake at the edge of Frostshadow territory. It was far from the warm lights of the great hall. No one would look for me here. I stripped off my clothes and dove into the water, letting the shock of it cut straight through me. Cold, sharp, pure.

It used to be my father who taught me to swim through icy currents. He’d say, “If you can survive this, you can survive anything.” I remembered the way he used to laugh, loud and free, echoing across the surface of the water.

Now, all that was left were the ripples and my breath.

When I resurfaced, I heard footsteps crunching on snow. My muscles tensed, instincts sharp. A figure in a blue dress stood near the shore, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her silver hair shimmered in the moonlight like frost.

She didn’t see me at first. She was crying, soft and quiet, her shoulders trembling. I frowned. No one should be out here alone like that. Especially not someone dressed like they belonged at the banquet.

“Miss,” I called, swimming closer to the bank, “I hate to interrupt, but I think you’re sitting on my clothes.”

She jerked back, startled. Her gaze snapped to mine, and I watched suspicion flash across her face. She was quick to move, eyes narrowing, shoulders tightening. Smart.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Stormhowl Pack,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Here with Alpha Maxwell.”

She didn’t relax. Not one bit. Good.

“Why aren’t you at the banquet?” she asked. “And why are you swimming? The water’s freezing.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said. “Why’s someone like you crying alone by a lake in a dress like that?”

“That’s none of your business,” she snapped.

I chuckled, shaking water from my hair as I stepped out onto the snow-covered shore. She squeaked and spun around, holding out my clothes blindly over her shoulder.

“Here,” she muttered.

“Appreciate it,” I said, pulling my shirt over my head.

After a moment, she asked, “Your pack has a lot of female warriors, right?”

That caught me off guard.

“Plenty,” I replied slowly. “Why?”

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