The Northern Court ~ Book 1

Sasha

Nothing spoke to me the way the mountains did.

To most, they were cold and unrelenting—beautiful in the way a blade was beautiful, deadly without remorse. But to me, they were freedom. My freedom. Here, the world fell away. No politics. No expectation. No weight of command pressing down on my shoulders.

Only the run.

My front paws dug into the icy ridge as I hauled myself upward at a reckless pace, muscles burning, breath steaming in the thin air. The ground was slick with frozen snow, treacherous beneath even the most careful footing. One misstep—just one—and I would plummet thousands of feet into the abyss below.

The thought thrilled me.

In my wolf form, I was untethered. Agile. Whole. Capable of feats my human body could never dream of. I leapt where stone crumbled, twisted where the wind howled, trusted instincts older than reason to keep me alive. The storm battered me without mercy, wicked wind clawing through my dark coat as needle-sharp snow stung my face.

I welcomed it.

The summit loomed ahead, jagged and white against a bruised sky. I pushed harder, faster, surrendering fully to motion, to instinct, to the animal joy of survival. Then—suddenly—the steep ridge gave way, opening into a broad, wind-scoured plateau.

The cold was vicious here. Bone-deep. The kind that seeped into marrow and dared you to endure it.

I lifted my head and angled my nose toward the storm-darkened heavens, a fierce, wordless smile curling through me. The world raged in all its fury, and for once, I raged with it.

In my world, nothing ever truly stopped. There was always another threat, another duty, another burden to shoulder. But moments like this—when I ran with abandon, when the wolf sang through my veins—I remembered who I was beneath the titles.

Protector. Provider. Wolf.

In a world like ours, that had to be enough.

Alpha.

The word struck through me like a crack of thunder.

I dropped my head, ears flattening slightly as Luka’s voice echoed through the mindlink. One of the many perks of pack life—telepathic communication, seamless and unavoidable. As long as I remained within pack borders, any member could reach me.

Even on my days off.

Is someone dying? I asked after a moment, irritation curling sharp and immediate. My rule was simple: do not contact me on my rare days of rest unless blood was already spilling.

No, Luka replied quickly, though uncertainty bled through the bond.

A low snarl rumbled in my chest. I was already preparing the reprimand when he added, There are intruders on the horizon.

That got my attention.

We did not receive visitors in the mountains. Not uninvited. Not in weather like this. Anyone foolish—or desperate—enough to cross our borders during a storm had only two possibilities: they were either a threat… or they were in dire need of aid.

Either way, I was required.

I turned my gaze east, toward the mountain pass where the lone road carved through stone. The storm obscured most of it, but with focused concentration, I sharpened my vision beyond the veil of snow and shadow.

Lights.

Small. Flickering. Moving slowly.

Travelers.

I closed my eyes briefly, a sharp breath leaving me as irritation gave way to inevitability. Of course. Of course today would be the day peace shattered.

At least I’d gotten a good run in before everything went to hell.

I’ll be down soon, I sent through the link.

Luka’s acknowledgment brushed against my mind, and I lifted my face once more to the sky. Drawing in a deep breath, I let out a piercing howl—raw, powerful, and commanding.

The sound ricocheted across the mountain range, echoing through stone and storm alike. Miles away, every member of my pack would hear it.

They would know to be ready.

Whether that readiness would be for bloodshed or salvation… that had yet to be determined.

*****

Alex

I had never been a fan of the cold—especially the kind the Sygon Mountains dealt out without mercy.

It went against my nature to despise it so deeply, but that nature was something I had turned my back on the moment my sister—my human sister—had been born. Some instincts were luxuries. Survival demanded sacrifice, and I had learned early what I was willing to give up.

This was no mere winter storm.

This was where damned souls came to die.

That was how I chose to frame it as Syka and I trudged along the rigid mountain path, the gorge yawning open beneath us like a waiting grave. I wasn’t an expert in mountain passes, but I knew enough to recognize when land wanted you dead. The ridge line was too exposed, the wind too sharp, the ice too eager to betray us. One wrong step—just one—and we would tumble thousands of feet into nothingness.

That was not an option.

Not after everything we had already survived.

“Alex.”

Syka’s voice came weakly from behind me. I turned, my heart tightening instantly. She pulled her furs closer around her small frame, hands trembling despite her effort to hide it. My little sister looked nothing like the nineteen-year-old she was. Her cheeks were hollow, skin stretched pale and thin, lips cracked and bloodless. Her eyes—those bright green eyes that once sparkled with mischief—were sunken, dulled by pain and hunger.

She looked thirteen.

Maybe younger.

A pain so deep it stole my breath slammed into my chest. After everything I had done—every line crossed, every price paid—she was still slipping through my fingers. Still dying. And this time, I wasn’t sure there was anything left I could do to stop it.

“We’re almost there,” I promised, even as the lie tasted bitter on my tongue. I didn’t know where there was—only that standing still meant death.

Before she could argue, I stripped off my cloak and draped it over her shoulders. She opened her mouth to protest, pride warring with weakness, but I had already turned away, scanning the gorge below. We had descended hundreds of feet already, yet the mountains still towered above us, vast and merciless.

Storm clouds gathered to the west—thick, heavy, rolling toward us with terrifying speed.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, forcing my breath to steady.

I could not lose control. Not in front of her.

Then I heard it.

A howl.

Low. Ominous. It echoed through the mountains in a way that made my blood run cold. It sounded distant and close all at once—carried by the wind, magnified by stone.

Werewolves.

I had known they roamed these mountains. I had hoped—foolishly—that we would pass unseen.

Hope died quickly.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the torch from Syka’s trembling hand and hurled it into the abyss. The flame vanished, swallowed whole by darkness.

“Why’d you do that?” Syka asked, confusion cutting through her exhaustion.

I didn’t answer immediately. My eyes swept the terrain, cataloging every shadow, every rise and fall of stone. Syka called it paranoia.

I called it survival.

“We’ve been spotted,” I said quietly.

“How can you tell?”

I tore my gaze away from the mountains, already knowing I wouldn’t see them. Wolves—especially mountain wolves—were masters of terrain.

“The howl,” I said. “We need to move. Quickly. I know you’re tired and cold, but our lives might depend on it.”

Despite the pain etched into every movement, she nodded once.

We descended faster now, the slope growing steeper, more dangerous. Time blurred. Cold bit deeper. Another howl cut through the darkening sky, closer this time.

My jaw clenched as I reached back and grabbed Syka’s hand, anchoring her to me.

The cold was brutal—but fear was sharper.

Then I smelled it.

Dog.

Close.

The sound of paws striking stone followed—fast, sure, deadly. Three of them, maybe. I cursed under my breath.

“Syka,” I said quietly, deadly calm settling over me, “whatever happens, you stay close to me. And you do not speak.”

I pulled her fully behind me, her body pressed to my back.

“Under no circumstances do you tell them who you are. Or what we’re running from.”

“Alex—”

I squeezed her hand once. Trust me.

“Not a word.”

They rounded the ledge below us.

Three wolves.

Two gray, lean and lethal.

And one massive black wolf that stole the breath from my lungs.

He was enormous—his back nearly level with my height, his presence heavy and commanding. His yellow eyes locked onto me instantly, sharp and knowing. Too knowing. He could sense it—me. The part I kept buried.

They moved fast. One wolf peeled off, scaling the ledge above us, cutting off escape. We were surrounded.

I tracked them calmly, refusing to show fear.

“We come in peace,” I said, raising my hands slowly.

One of the gray wolves snarled, snapping teeth.

The black wolf only watched.

“My name is Alex,” I continued evenly, “and this is my sister, Syka. We’re passing through the mountains.”

The black wolf held my gaze a moment longer—then shifted.

The transformation was fluid. Controlled. Almost beautiful.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood where the wolf had been moments before. Scars mapped his tan skin, each one a testament to survival. Dark hair framed a face both brutal and striking, his eyes still burning gold.

An Alpha.

A threat.

“Where are you coming from?” he asked.

I tightened my grip on Syka. “Riverlend.”

The lie slid out easily.

“Why come through the pass?”

I met his gaze coolly. “I don’t suppose you’d accept ‘we got lost’?”

A pause.

“No.”

I exhaled softly. Partial truths were best.

“We’re running from someone,” I said. “Someone who will kill us.”

His jaw flexed.

“We are no threat to you, Alpha.”

Something shifted in his expression at the title. His gaze flicked to Syka.

I stepped into his line of sight.

“She looks like death,” he said.

“That should tell you how desperate I am.”

Silence.

“You can come back to our camp,” he said finally. “You’ll freeze out here.”

Suspicion flared. “Why help us?”

“We are not all monsters.”

Before I could respond, Syka collapsed.

“No,” I breathed.

The Alpha moved. I snarled.

“Do not touch her.”

“She’s freezing,” he said calmly. “And starving. Let me help.”

I felt every muscle in my body coil as the Alpha’s golden eyes held mine. His scent alone was enough to stir my primal instincts—strong, commanding, ancient. His wolf wanted to fight. My leopard wanted to stalk, to strike, to prove dominance. It was a war between two apex predators, a battle of wills that neither of us could afford to show outright.

I shifted slightly in place, letting my predator side show, just enough for him to see I was not a helpless human. My chest rose and fell, every breath steady, controlled—but beneath it, my heart thumped in sync with the wild rhythm of my feline blood.

Syka sagged against me. I could feel the warmth leave her body. Her pulse was weak, erratic. The cold was winning, and the long climb, the constant tension, had finally broken her small frame. Her body shuddered, and a low groan escaped her lips. I dropped to my knees instantly, cradling her against my chest as she slid completely into unconsciousness. Her head lolled back, and her pale face pressed into my cloak, making my stomach twist with a helpless fury I had no words for.

“Do not touch her,” I hissed at the Alpha again, my voice low and dangerous, the growl unmistakably feline now, resonating through the layers of my human control. My claws itched, my ears flattened slightly in warning. Every instinct screamed threat. Yet he didn’t hesitate.

He bent down, moving with careful precision, his massive hands cupping her fragile frame. Even in his strength, there was no roughness—only efficiency, a predator’s respect for life, not out of kindness, but understanding of survival. The way he moved, measured and confident, made me bristle. He was good—too good.

The wolf in him and the leopard in me circled each other, coiled, taut with tension. His pack waited obediently behind him, two gray wolves pressing against the mountain, but my attention was all on him. I didn’t know if he could sense my true nature beneath my human disguise, but I knew he recognized the predator energy in me. That golden stare was not one of curiosity; it was assessment, challenge, and judgment.

Syka’s body grew even lighter in my arms, and my heart ached. I pressed my cheek to hers, feeling the faint warmth of her skin, the shallow rise of her chest. Every second she lay there unconscious, I hated that I hadn’t the power to keep her awake, keep her safe.

“You will not hurt her,” I finally growled, my voice blending human and feline, a predator’s promise. “Or I will end you before you even draw breath.”

He studied me again. That single look, the one that assessed my capabilities, my resolve, and my willingness to fight over a weak, human girl, was enough to make the primal part of me snap forward. I could feel the leopard’s muscles twitching, ready to pounce. His own posture shifted subtly—not aggression, not yet, but a warning that he was ready to assert dominance if necessary.

Then he lifted Syka with a grunt of effort, moving like she weighed nothing, and barked a command to his pack. The two gray wolves leapt down the slope with fluid precision. I rose slowly, never taking my eyes from him, muscles coiled, ready.

“Lead the way,” I said finally, my voice quiet but heavy with the threat it carried. My storm blue eyes never left him, warning him silently: this was not submission. This was mutual recognition. Predator meeting predator. Wolf versus cat, each assessing the other, each aware that the other’s strength was absolute—and lethal.

Syka, unconscious and trembling slightly in his arms, was a fragile reminder of why I could not falter. If she died here, it wouldn’t just be the mountains that had defeated her—it would be me, failing her.

And I would never allow that.