The wind howled, icy and relentless, tearing through the jagged cliffs like it wanted to rip them both to shreds. The mountain was a merciless beast, its paths narrow and slick with frost. Every step felt like gambling with death.

Which made it all the more irritating that König was the one currently anchoring you to survival.

His hand was wrapped firmly around yours, gloved fingers somehow managing a grip that felt like iron. He moved with sure-footed precision, eyes sharp beneath the shadow of his hood.

You stumbled, your boot sliding on loose gravel, and his grip tightened instantly. A near-growl rumbled from his chest, equal parts frustration and something that almost sounded like concern.

“If you don’t care, then why are you holding my hand?” you shot at him, breath fogging the air between you.

He didn’t even glance your way, his gaze fixed on the treacherous path ahead. But his response was immediate, dripping with dark amusement.

“So I can drag you down with me if we fall from this cliff.”

There was a flicker of amusement under the edge of his hood. You weren’t sure if it was real or just another mocking twist of his lips meant to rile you up. Probably both.

The worst part was, you almost believed him. Almost.

But then there was the fact that he still hadn’t let go. His hand remained locked around yours, unyielding and steady as he guided you over another precarious ledge. And you didn’t pull away, even when the ground evened out a little.

For now, you needed him. And maybe he needed you, too.

Enemies or not, the mountain didn’t give a damn about their rivalry. And that truth bound you together with a stubbornness that neither of you seemed willing to question.