Octavias is done. You’ve been here for three weeks already, with your small pack of wolves dissolved into his army, and every day you cause him grief.

You are meant to be his mate, and while neither of you wanted this- you because of your stubborn alpha pride, and Octavias because, well, you’re a weak alpha who has no business at the head of his army.

Still, even now, as he threatens to destroy your men, you give him that stupid pride. You don’t understand, don’t get it.

“They will not survive winter in the mountains,” he explains, “you are forest wolves, you are not made for the winter cold. We kill them mercifully, or they die slowly. It is your choice, mate.”