The morning came without warmth. Even with the fire reduced to glowing embers, the hollow where they had camped felt like a frozen tomb. Seraphina woke to the sound of Lucien moving quietly nearby, his boots crunching softly over the frost as he checked the perimeter.

She sat up, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. The wind had shifted in the night, carrying with it a smell she could not place acrid, faint, but unsettling.

Lucien returned, his expression darker than the day before. “Something is burning,” he said. “Downwind.”

She frowned. “Here? In the middle of nowhere?”

“That is why we will see it for ourselves.”

They broke camp quickly, the air growing sharper as they climbed a ridge to the north. From the top, the forest fell away to reveal a shallow valley, and in the center of it, smoke drifted in thin black lines from the remains of a cabin.

Or what had once been a cabin.

Now it was little more than a frame of charred beams half-buried in the snow. The ground around it was stained dark, the snow melted in uneven patches as if heat still lingered beneath the surface.

Lucien’s gaze swept the scene, his shoulders tensing. “This is recent. Hours, not days.”

Seraphina’s throat tightened. “The wolves?”

He didn’t answer, but the set of his jaw was enough.

They descended slowly, careful not to disturb the snow more than necessary. The air was heavy with the scent of smoke and something darker, coppery. As they neared the ruin, she saw it — a shape in the snow, sprawled at an unnatural angle.

A man.

Or what remained of him. His clothing was torn, his skin pale and frozen, the chest ripped open in a way that made her look away.

Lucien knelt beside the body, studying it with a soldier’s detachment. “They fed here.”

She shivered, her stomach twisting. “Why leave the rest?”

“They were interrupted.” His gaze swept toward the treeline. “We are not the only ones moving in these woods.”

Something in his tone made her skin prickle. She followed his gaze, half-expecting to see the yellow-eyed shadows from before. Instead, she caught movement quick, low, vanishing between the pines.

“Lucien…” she began, but before she could say more, a sound broke the stillness. Not the howl of wolves this time, but a voice. Weak, strained.

They found the source in what had once been the cabin’s cellar. A trapdoor, half-buried in snow, had been forced open. Inside, huddled in the corner, was a girl no older than fifteen, her eyes wide and wild.

She flinched at the sight of Lucien, shrinking into the shadows, but when her gaze fell on Seraphina, she made a small, desperate sound.

“They came from the trees,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “They tore through the door like it was nothing. They” Her breath hitched. “I couldn’t move. I just stayed here. Mama said to stay here.”

Lucien’s face was unreadable, but his voice softened in a way Seraphina rarely heard. “You are safe now.”

The girl shook her head violently. “No one is safe. Not with them out there.”

Seraphina moved closer, crouching so she was level with the girl. “We will get you somewhere safe.”

The girl’s eyes flicked to Lucien, then back to Seraphina. “You can’t fight them. You don’t know what they are.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. “I do.”

They brought her out into the light, wrapping her in Seraphina’s spare cloak. She trembled constantly, even when Lucien kept her between them as they moved back toward higher ground.

Halfway to the ridge, the wind carried a sound Seraphina had come to dread the low, rolling growl that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Lucien stopped, his head turning sharply toward the treeline. “Keep her close,” he told Seraphina, handing her the girl. Then, without hesitation, he stepped forward, drawing his sword.

Three shadows emerged from the pines, their massive forms blotting out the pale sun. This time, they did not circle. They came straight at them.

Seraphina’s heart pounded. She pulled the girl back against the ridge wall, her hand gripping the dagger so tightly her fingers ached.

Lucien met the first wolf in a clash of steel and teeth, the force of the impact shuddering through the air. Snow sprayed in great arcs as he drove the blade upward, twisting free just in time to turn on the second.

The third wolf broke toward her and the girl. Seraphina moved without thinking, stepping between them, the dagger raised. The creature’s eyes locked on hers, and for a heartbeat she thought it would barrel through her.

Then Lucien was there, faster than she could see, his sword a silver streak that cut the beast down before it reached her.

The fight ended as quickly as it began. The snow was marked with dark streaks, the air thick with the copper tang of blood. Lucien stood over the last fallen wolf, his breath harsh, his gaze scanning the trees for any sign of more.

When none came, he turned to her. His eyes lingered on the way she still held the dagger, the trembling in her fingers. He reached out, his hand covering hers, lowering the blade gently.

“You stood your ground,” he said, his voice low.

“I didn’t have a choice,” she replied, her breath still unsteady.

His eyes softened, and for a moment, the space between them was charged again, heavy with everything unspoken. He stepped closer, close enough that the warmth of him cut through the cold, and for a heartbeat, she thought he might bridge the rest of the distance.

Then the girl stirred between them, breaking the moment.

Lucien stepped back, his expression shuttering again. “We move. There will be more.”

They reached the far side of the ridge as the light faded, finding a narrow cave where the girl could rest. Lucien built a small fire while Seraphina coaxed her to eat, though the child barely touched the food.

Later, when the girl finally slept, Seraphina found herself sitting beside Lucien near the fire. The shadows danced over his face, highlighting the faint line of exhaustion in his features.

“You’ve fought them before,” she said quietly.

His gaze met hers, steady, unreadable. “Yes.”

“And you’ve lost people to them.”

For a long time, he didn’t answer. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “Everyone I once called mine.”

The words lingered between them like the embers in the fire, glowing and dangerous.

Lucien stayed where he was for a while, his eyes on the fire, as though the flames could burn away whatever memories had just surfaced. Seraphina watched him in silence, her fingers curled around her knees, sensing the weight of something unspoken between them.

The crackle of the fire filled the cave, the faint whimper of the sleeping girl the only other sound. Outside, the wind pushed snow across the entrance in soft drifts, shielding them from the night.

Seraphina shifted, her knee brushing against his. The contact made his gaze flick to hers.

“You’ve been carrying this for a long time,” she murmured.

He did not deny it. Instead, he said, “There are things you survive… but they do not leave you.”

The words stirred something deep in her, an echo of her own scars. “And yet you keep fighting.”

His mouth curved faintly, though it wasn’t a smile. “And so do you.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The fire painted his face in warm light, drawing her eyes to the line of his jaw, the dark fall of his hair, the way his lips parted slightly as if he might say something more.

Instead, he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

She didn’t pull away.

His hand lingered, fingertips tracing the line of her face until they rested just beneath her jaw. Her breath caught as his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, his eyes locked on hers.

“Seraphina,” he said softly, almost like a warning.

Her lips curved faintly. “If you’re going to tell me this is a mistake… don’t.”

His gaze darkened. “It is a mistake. But I cannot seem to stop.”

And then he was closing the space between them. His mouth met hers in a kiss that started slow, as though he meant to be gentle, but deepened almost immediately, hunger breaking through restraint.

Her hand slid up his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath the leather of his coat. His arm wrapped around her, drawing her closer until her body was flush against his. The kiss grew rougher, his other hand tangling in her hair as she parted her lips for him, letting the heat of him drown out the cold.

When he pulled back, his breath was uneven, his eyes searching hers as if for permission to go further. She gave it wordlessly, her hands already working at the buckles of his coat.

He shrugged it off, the heavy leather falling to the ground, revealing the dark shirt beneath. She touched the fabric, feeling the heat of him, then slid her palms under it to trace the hard lines of his abdomen.

Lucien caught her wrist briefly, his thumb brushing over her pulse. “We should not…”

“Then don’t stop,” she whispered.

Whatever restraint he’d been clinging to broke. His mouth found hers again, his hands sliding to her waist, pulling her onto his lap. The position brought her legs astride his hips, the heat between them igniting something low and insistent inside her.

His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, then down her neck, the scrape of his teeth making her gasp. One hand moved to her thigh, gripping through the fabric of her leggings before slipping higher, drawing a soft sound from her throat.

Her fingers fisted in his hair, pulling him back to her mouth, their kiss messy and heated now. The firelight threw wild shadows over the cave walls, matching the chaos of the moment.

She could feel the sharp edge of his control he was holding himself back, but only barely. And that tension, that sense that he might lose it completely, made her ache all the more.

When his hand finally slipped beneath the hem of her tunic, the warmth of his touch against her bare skin made her gasp again, her hips shifting instinctively. He swallowed the sound in another kiss, his other arm holding her so close she could feel every hard line of him.

Then, from the corner of her vision, movement.

She froze.

Lucien sensed it instantly, his head turning toward the cave entrance. A shadow moved just beyond the snowdrift.

In an instant, he set her aside gently but firmly, his hand going to his sword. The air between them was still heavy with heat, but the danger outside cut through it like ice.

He moved silently toward the entrance, his posture tense. Seraphina grabbed her dagger, her heart still racing from more than just the kiss.

The shadow lingered, then slipped away into the dark.

Lucien stood there for a moment longer before returning to the fire. His eyes met hers, the promise of what they had almost done still burning in them, but his voice was all command again.

“We keep watch in turns,” he said quietly. “They are hunting.”

She nodded, her lips still tingling from his kiss, her body still remembering his hands. But she knew they would not finish what had started tonight. Not yet.