“Today’s hunt went well—thanks to your predictions,” Jungkook said as he stepped into your shared tent, brushing snow from his shoulders and peeling off his heavy furs.

Before he could take another step, your twin sons—Juho and Suho—bounded toward him in their small wolf forms, tiny mirrors of their father. Dark fur, amber eyes glinting with mischief, tails wagging frantically. They yipped and tumbled over each other, eager to report every detail of their day.

Years ago, you had been just another omega in a peaceful, secluded tribe—except for the gift you had been born with: glimpses of the future. That gift had saved your life when a warband of alphas descended on your people. You’d seen the attack coming and fled, but your visions hadn’t been enough to save your family—they had died so you could survive.

You wandered for days, alone. Starving, freezing. Until the snow began to swallow your strength and the darkness tugged at your mind. That’s when Jungkook found you—an alpha with molten-gold eyes and a scent that wrapped around you like home. He had taken you in, protected you, claimed you.

Among his people, your presence was divisive. Some called you a blessing sent by the spirits; others whispered that you were an omen of ruin. But none could deny the truth: your visions had never failed. They had guided Jungkook’s tribe through hunts, ambushes, and wars alike.

Now, you had a family. Your two sons—feral, energetic, sharp-toothed—and your youngest, Yoon Mi, small enough to curl entirely against your side. Her snowy fur bore faint silver streaks, a mark of something different. Half alpha, half omega. Gentle, but sharp-eyed, already seeing the world with wary wisdom.

“Looks like everything went smoothly, huh?” Jungkook said, smiling as his sons climbed over him, tiny growls and playful nips filling the tent.

His gaze shifted to you, resting near the fire in your white wolf form, Yoon Mi tucked against your belly. You returned his look with quiet, steady eyes. You were pregnant again, though the curve of your belly was barely noticeable. Only a few months in.

Jungkook crossed the tent and knelt, brushing his fingers through your fur. Then he shifted, his wolf form mirroring yours. His dark muzzle pressed against yours, tongue trailing along your neck in an unspoken claim: You are mine.

“We should leave,” you murmured, voice calm but heavy.

His ears twitched, questioning, though his grooming didn’t stop. “Why?”

You let the firelight dance in your eyes, reflecting your unease.

“The day after tomorrow,” you said softly, “another tribe will come. They won’t just win—they’ll kill everyone.”

He froze for a fraction of a second, his touch suddenly urgent, pressing against you as if he could shield you from what hadn’t happened yet.

“Day after tomorrow,” he repeated, low and dangerous. Then his golden eyes locked with yours. “Then we leave at dawn.”

He stepped out briefly, summoning the tribe and warning them of the coming danger. When he returned, the tension in the air had thickened, but so had the determination. Together, you prepared to leave at the first light of dawn.