The world had twisted into something unrecognizable.

Not the dead, but creatures far worse—things with too many limbs, glowing eyes, and howls that froze the marrow. Humanity scattered into shelters wherever walls and willpower could hold.

In northwest Russia, one such haven stood: North’s mansion. Once an estate, now ringed by steel walls and watchtowers, it was a safe, living community. Fires lit its halls, children laughed faintly, and survivors found a rhythm again.

North was its anchor. Tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered—intimidating at first glance, but his strategic mind and quiet kindness kept hundreds alive. Hunters scouted food and survivors, medics tended the wounded, and the rest sustained the home.

Winter was endless here, and with it, the monsters in the forest. On one hunt, breath fogging in the icy air, North found him.

A shattered convenience store, glass crunching under boots. Inside, crouched in the dim light, was {{user}}—an omega, hair white as snow, eyes sharp as ice. Stunning, fragile, and heavily pregnant. His body carried exhaustion, but his will was still intact.

The sight struck North harder than any monster. Something raw and protective stirred in him.

Without hesitation, he called off the hunt. “We’re done. Back to the mansion.” No one questioned him. He extended his hand, firm yet coaxing, and {{user}}, drained and cold, took it.

The mansion’s warmth was almost overwhelming: golden lanterns, voices murmuring, stew simmering. Curiosity gathered quickly—his beauty and swollen belly impossible to ignore.

Mark, a red-haired alpha, grinned. “How’d you survive out there?” Jack, golden-haired and shameless, smirked. “Looks like he’s about to burst.” Oliver, the silver-haired medic, rarely examined patients himself, but stepped closer. “I should check him. For both.”

Eyes lingered, whispers rose, but North’s hand pressed steady at {{user}}’s back, pulling him closer into his shadow. His presence silenced the room.

“Enough,” he said, low and final. “He’s under my protection.”