The thought of pulling in the air into lungs is non-existant, my ribcage wants to split in half from the pressure against my failing chest. His voice carries across the house, profound and irritated.

"Victoria, I want to see her. It's been long enough."

"Grey, you need to leave." Her voice is stern.

"I told you, Victoria, I am not leaving without her. Either you get her or I will. Either way, she's going back with me."

"Don't threaten me, Grey! Not on my soil. You're my friend, and I don't want anything to ruin that."

Frozen

The vibration of each step he takes is felt on the floorboards; a deep, rumbling growl pierces the air. It's a threat from the Northerner to Victoria. I can feel them getting closer. Their scent of pine and cedar, of the wild land, pulls my memory with wanting.

Charlie's grip tightens on my waist, and he drags me outside, into the night, until silver glowing eyes meet mine. Deeply embedded fear grips me like an iron fist.

"Meela."

The Northerner looks feral. His beard is full, untrimmed, and a wildness has taken hold of him. He's brought the North here within him, a savageness, a rawness... He's turned into a King in my absence.

Taking a staggered step back, my eyes blinking rapidly, swallowing the tears inside. I didn't think it would be this way. The connection between us is sizzling. I can feel my body buzzing, humming in a deep animalistic pull... my mate.

Thomas is standing beside him, looking just as fierce. They're the wild wolves from the North, seeking to claim a prize.

Charlie knows what he's doing, his snarl full of intent, of purpose, warning the Northerner to stay away. Charlie takes a protective stance in front of me. To get to me, the northerner has to go through a wall. Charlie's a warrior, for all his gruffness, his shagginess. He takes his warrior stance, stiff legs, body bristling, puffing himself up.

Others appear in my peripheral vision, fighters of the queen's pack, their eyes glowing, low rumbles vibrating out of their throats. They warn the northerner that this won't be easy.

The situation deteriorates rapidly as the northerner's men climb out of their vehicles. He brought along his warriors, the same males who fought alongside my brother's pack in our time of need.

He brought death with him.

Victoria's eyes are shiny with his betrayal. "Grey, what is the meaning of this!"

"I've come for her. She belongs to us."

"This is not what we agreed on. She's not ready." They talk as if I'm not here as if my feelings are nothing but fleeting thoughts left for the wind to take and blow away.

The Queen takes place to my right, her warriors behind her, some shifting into their fighting form, ears flattened down, bodies low to the ground, lips wrinkled back exposing shining white fangs.

The Northerner's malignant snarl is full of vicious intent, obsidian eyes gleaming their fury. The Northerner's men start shifting, crouching low, fine muscles twitching...ready.

Charlie's body is humming, just itching to shift. Thomas's eyes never leave Charlie's face. The northerner pays Charlie no attention. His entire focus is on me.

"Meela."

My name coming from his lips draws my eyes to his mouth. It's automatic, like breathing. I have no control. He's aware of this, nothing is lost in his assessment of me.

"You have a choice, Meela. You can come with me on your own, without incident." His head tilts, judging my reaction. I can't find my voice.

His remaining unshifted warriors take their fighting form following a silent command. A stillness settles over them, as they wait for the order. No muscle moves, no blinks of the eyes. Even their breathing has slowed. The Northerner committed to a battle he's prepared to win. The Queen's Warriors follow suit, ready to face this unexpected threat.

Charlie shifts into his fighting form. His fur is matted along his back, tufts of it missing, replaced with deep scars running everywhere skin is showing. He's a fighter, a survivor, not to be underestimated. Thomas sees this, and his body angles towards Charlie's. It's a <Beta against an enforcer. Charlie's battle worn, but Thomas has genetics behind him. They are evenly matched.

"Meela, make the right choice. You don't want your friends' blood on your hands."

Looking down at the mutt, to my friend, and a tear trickles down my cheek. Reaching out, I rub Charlie's head goodbye. Looking towards all these wolves that could die because of me. In my heart, I can't let that happen. So, with a shaky step, I walk towards my nightmare.

"Meela." Victoria's voice rings out.

Turning to her sadly. "It's okay, it's my choice. Tell my brother this was my choice. Tell him it's okay. He needs to believe you. Tell him I wanted this." The last words are choked out. "Tell him it's what I wanted."

I can feel the heat of his body even if he stands a little further away. The smell of his desire runs up my body in mutinous waves. Reaching out, he pulls me to him.

He brings my face close to his. "I've missed you so much." Rubbing his nose along my neck, inhaling deeply, his body shaking with his need for me, mine shaking with terror.

The feel of fingers wrapping in my hair, so I can't move my head anymore, pulling my head back, our eyes lock together.

"Come home with me." The Northerner's voice sounds soft

He turns and walks away, and I follow him, as expected. Thomas backs away, never taking his eyes off Charlie, the warrior wolf willing to die for me. I just couldn't let that happen to him, to them.

The ride to the border of his territory isn't long. I can see from the corner of my eye that he's getting more and more agitated.

"We can smell that mutt all over you. What was he to you?" It's seethed out with repulsion as he grips my arm and pulls me on his lap. His teeth leave trails of redness along my neck. I shiver from his dominance, my body reacting to its mate.

"A friend." It's the truth, so there's no lie to detect in my words.

"My wolf is not appreciative of other males on your body."

Feeling the vehicle come to a halt, stopping on the edge of his territory. Opening the door, he yanks me out.

"I can't stand one more minute with that smell on you." His eyes are his wolf's. "Run, Meela."

He doesn't have to say it again. Jumping into a shift scrambling down the ditch into the awaiting forest.

Leaping over fallen trees, my wolf smells for the scent of water. If only I can reach water, I might have a chance. Stealing a backward glance as I run, I hear the thundering of his paws gaining on my wolf. Lungs burning in my chest, running faster, but the chase stops as he trips me with his front paws and catches my hind leg.

Plunging headfirst into the leaf littered forest, twigs, and leaves tangling into my fur. Shaking them off my body and turn to face my attacker.

This is the first time he sees my wolf after the whipping, and it halts him, freezes him to the spot. His silver eyes glide over the length of my body, taking in the tufts of missing hair, the thinned coat. Blackened scars line my back. My wolf looks like she's had a hard, unloved life, full of pain and torture.

Approaching me with his head low, the wolf is cautious. My wolf snaps her teeth in his direction. His pointed muzzle pokes into my ribs, rubbing his cheek down the length of my body. She growls a warning to him. His nose sniffing checking to see if my virtue is still intact. My wolf shakes him off, taking her hind leg and kicking at his face.

Battle stance posturing preparing for his attack. It's swift when it comes, full of brute force. He pins me down, laying his full body against mine, his teeth in my neck, hard enough for the skin to break.

My tail draws inward, trying to protect me from any intrusion.

His mating hormones are leeching into our fur. Deep growls emit from my wolf. She's trying with all of her power to shake him off. Instead, another surge of power from the Northerner has her unable to move, but she still fights, trying to twist away from him. It's no use, he's got us pinned, at his mercy, but there's no mercy to be found.

My wolf is whimpering and whining trying with the last reserve of her strength to break free.

He's constantly rubbing his scent against our fur, as he holds us with teeth that have sunk into our necks, marking the wolf as his.

It's hard to stand, our energy depleted, and a terrible burn in our necks. My wolf lunges for his neck, ripping tufts of fur out. Blood seeps out from his wound, not enough to kill, but enough to make out a wish for him known.

His wolf, none too happy with our outburst, snarls menacingly at us. He doesn't attack, just waits for us to calm down.

After some time passes, we get up, ready to follow, but his ownership of my wolf is made known again and again as he repeatedly rubs his scent over us.

We let his wolf smell our coat for any more traces of Charlie. He must be satisfied because he doesn't attempt to rub the scent of him into us again.

His wolf has marked my wolf as his in total domination. His ownership of us is almost complete.

All he needs to do is take my skin side.