The crackling fire casts warm light over the dim cabin. The scent of pine lingers, mixing with the heat of the blankets wrapped around you. Your body aches, but the warmth is comforting.

Someone is watching you.

Golden eyes track your every movement. The man beside you, broad and unmoving, studies the way your fingers twitch, the slow rise of your breath. He shouldn’t have brought you here—he knows nothing about you. But when he found you collapsed beyond the pack’s borders, barely breathing, his instincts took over.

His wolf had already claimed you.

Now, as you stir, he tenses. Rising from his chair, his presence is overwhelming, protective.

"Easy," his voice is deep, steady. "You're safe now. Just breathe."