My Fiancé Framed Me For Murder—So I Surrendered To His Deadliest Enemy
Part 1
My bare feet left bloody footprints in the pristine snow, but I refused to stop running.
The men hunting me with silver-tipped crossbows were led by the man I was supposed to marry tomorrow.
Ice bit into my numb toes with every desperate step through the skeletal pines.
The biting wind of the northern marches tore through the barren branches, carrying the undeniable scent of betrayal.
I was no longer the respected future leader of our people.
I was prey.
Just two days ago, Craig held my hands in the stone corridors of our stronghold.
Warm kisses were pressed against my knuckles as he promised me the world.
Those soft words were meant to be my protection against the brutal politics of our kind.
I had believed every single whispered lie.
Those promises burned to ash the moment his father collapsed at the banquet table.
The smell of roasting venison and stale ale was instantly replaced by the metallic tang of panic.
Black bile had spilled from the old leader’s lips right after he drank from the silver goblet.
The grand hall erupted into total chaos.
My half-sister Heather screamed louder than anyone else, making sure every eye turned toward me.
She pointed a trembling finger directly at my chest.
The pitcher had been in my hands all evening.
Turning toward Craig, I desperately waited for him to roar in my defense against the absurd treason.
My gaze met his, finding the blue irises completely devoid of the warmth we had shared just hours before.
Beside him stood his uncle Dan, whispering poison directly into his ear.
The entire sequence was a perfectly orchestrated coup, leaving me as the designated sacrificial lamb.
Heather wanted my crown, Dan wanted the old leader dead, and Craig was too weak to stand against them.
The purest faction of our pack despised my half-blood lineage.
Craig threw me to the wolves to secure his own uncontested rise to power.
I was dragged to the damp, lightless cells beneath the keep to await execution.
Greg, the blind stable master, slipped me an iron key in the dead of night.
He remembered the small kindnesses I had shown his crippled grandson.
He whispered the layout of the forgotten smuggler tunnels, saving me from the gallows at dawn.
Now, a sharp howl shattered the quiet of the freezing woods behind me.
They were closing in.
I forced my battered body to shift forms.
Bones cracked and realigned with sickening pops as russet fur erupted across my skin.
My paws tore through the deep snowbanks.
I pushed past the limits of my endurance, dodging low-hanging branches and leaping over fallen logs.
The jagged mountain peaks loomed ahead, marking the border of the forbidden northern territory.
The ruler of those lands, David, was a warlord who conquered neighboring territories with an iron fist.
Crossing into his domain was an automatic death sentence.
Dying by an unknown monster’s claws seemed infinitely better than being executed by the man who broke my heart.
A sudden, searing agony exploded in my right shoulder.
I tumbled snout-first into the snow, skidding violently down a steep embankment.
My body crashed against the icy trunk of a massive oak, knocking the breath from my lungs.
I twisted my neck, staring at the silver-tipped crossbow bolt lodged deep in my flesh.
The scent of my own burning blood filled the frigid air.
Three massive wolves broke through the tree line above me.
They shifted seamlessly back into their human forms, drawing their weapons.
Tyler, Craig’s chief executioner, stood in the center with a cruel smirk twisting his scarred face.
He casually slid another glowing silver bolt into his weapon.
The searing pain forced me to shift back into my vulnerable human form.
I backed away, pressing my bare spine against the freezing stone of a towering cliff face.
A crowned skull emblem was carved into the rock above my head, barely visible under the frost.
I had crossed the border.
“You can’t touch me here,” I gasped, clutching my bleeding shoulder.
Tyler let out a harsh, grating laugh that echoed off the canyon walls.
His heavy leather boots crunched in the snow as he took a deliberate step forward.
He aimed the heavy weapon directly at my kneecap, promising to make it hurt.
I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the burning impact.
The shot never came.
A low, vibrational growl ripped through the clearing, emanating from the earth itself.
The sheer force of the sound rattled my ribs and stole the breath from my lungs.
I opened my eyes to see Tyler frozen, his jaw completely slack and his weapon lowering slowly toward the snow.
A massive figure dropped from the dense pines above the cliff.
It landed in the snow with an earth-shuddering thud right between me and my executioners.
The beast was monstrous, easily the size of a warhorse, covered in thick, pitch-black fur.
Luminous silver eyes glowed with ancient, untamed violence.
The northern warlord wasn’t a myth.
Tyler dropped his crossbow, his hands trembling wildly as he stammered a pathetic apology.
The giant black wolf didn’t bother barking a warning.
He lunged with absolute, terrifying silence.
Massive jaws clamped around the torso of the closest guard, snapping the man in half with one sickening crunch.
A heavy paw slammed into the second guard’s back, crushing his spine against the frozen ground.
Tyler stumbled backward with a high-pitched wail, frantically trying to shift forms to escape the slaughter.
The warlord’s jaws closed around his throat.
One vicious shake of the massive head silenced Tyler forever.
Blood sprayed across the pristine snow in a violent, abstract pattern.
The skirmish lasted less than ten seconds.
The giant beast stood amidst the carnage, the metallic tang of fresh blood hanging heavy in the air.
Slowly, the massive head turned toward me.
I pressed myself harder against the stone, my heart hammering like a trapped bird.
I had merely traded a quick execution for a brutal mauling.
The air around the beast began to shimmer with raw power.
Steam rose from the massive body as it shifted, revealing a towering, heavily muscled man covered in jagged scars.
His silver eyes locked onto my shivering form.
A dozen more warriors emerged silently from the shadows of the trees.
One stepped forward, draping a thick bear pelt over their leader’s broad shoulders.
David stepped closer, crouching down until he was eye-level with me.
His large, calloused hand gripped the shaft of the silver bolt in my shoulder.
I tried to pull away, but his grip was made of solid iron.
Before I could process his command to stay still, he yanked the bolt out.
A blood-curdling scream tore from my throat.
Black spots danced in my vision as the pain dragged me toward unconsciousness.
I slumped forward, colliding with his broad, solid chest.
A shockwave rippled through the frigid air the exact moment our bare skin touched.
An intoxicating scent of pine needles, wood smoke, and dark leather flooded my senses.
The agonizing pain in my shoulder vanished.
It was replaced by a terrifying, overwhelming warmth spreading outward from my core.
My inner wolf, previously battered and exhausted, howled with frantic, desperate energy.
David went completely rigid.
His silver eyes widened by a fraction of an inch as the realization hit him.
For a split second, the mask of the ruthless warlord slipped entirely.
The fleeting softness vanished instantly as his jaw locked tight.
He shoved me roughly against the stone wall, his upper lip curling into a deep sneer.
He had felt the bond between us, but he had also smelled Craig’s fading scent lingering on my skin.
To him, I wasn’t a fleeing victim.
I was a Trojan horse sent to infiltrate his inner circle.
“Bind her in iron, cauterize the wound, and throw her over a horse,” his deep, gravelly voice echoed off the rocks.
My vision tilted as heavy rusted cuffs were locked violently around my wrists, dragging me into the welcoming darkness.
