The Snow Wolf's Mate

The Price of Silence:

[POV: Cole]

I sat there at that polished, suffocating dinner table, drowning in the storm Dayana had unleashed.

She had set her plan in motion. Pulled the trigger. Involved me without a second thought. And never bothered to tell me.

I smiled, nodded, played my part—but inside, I was unraveling. Every word Julius and Minerva said only pulled the noose tighter.

They believed I was bringing Aria back. They believed I was working with Dayana. And worst of all—they believed Aria’s return would erase their “suffering.”

“Soon,” Minerva had said with a gleam in her eye, “everything will be balanced again. With Aria home, the future can finally begin.”

“Balanced,” Julius echoed. “The threat will pass. The prophecy will fulfill itself, and we’ll be rid of the shadow over our name.”

I didn’t ask what they meant. I couldn’t. My mouth wouldn’t open. My body sat still, locked in place, but my thoughts were a whirlwind of horror.

What prophecy? What balance? What the hell were they planning?

The second dinner ended, I was on my feet. I ignored Dayana’s subtle attempts to catch my arm, her knowing smirk, her silent game of cat and mouse. I stormed down the corridor toward her chambers, fury rising in my chest like a fire I couldn’t contain.

She was waiting when I arrived. Standing near the fireplace, unbothered. Radiant. Manipulative.

“Cole,” she said sweetly, “I was wondering when you’d—”

“You set me up.” I slammed the door shut behind me, my voice sharper than a blade. “You used my name to lie to your parents. You fed them some twisted story about me helping you bring Aria back—and you didn’t tell me anything.”

She blinked, innocent as ever. “Oh, is that what you’re upset about?”

“I’m furious, Dayana!” I growled, advancing. “You’re dragging me into something I want no part of. Whatever you’re planning for Aria—whatever this ‘balance’ nonsense is—you’re playing games with people’s lives.”

Her smirk didn’t falter. “You’re overreacting.”

“I’m not!” I snapped. “You know what your parents are capable of. What you’re capable of. And I am not going to be complicit in hurting Aria. I—” My voice cracked, but I pushed on. “I won’t let you use me as a pawn.”

Dayana’s expression cooled. “You’ve always been emotional about her. Even when we were kids. She barely had to look at you and suddenly you were her loyal guard dog.”

“Because she needed someone!” I hissed. “Because no one ever stood up for her. Not you. Not your parents.”

“She’s a parasite,” Dayana snarled, the mask finally slipping. “Clinging to sympathy, hiding behind pain. But she’s not harmless. You saw her strength. Her power. And now she’s in their pack—Crimson Fang.”

I stepped back, swallowing hard.

She didn’t just want Aria back. She wanted her gone. Forever.

“Stop this,” I said, voice low. “Whatever you’re planning—stop it. Let her finally go.”

Her eyes shimmered with something dark, something unhinged.

“Why are you still so obsessed with her, Cole? Do you really think she still wants you? After you chose me?”

My silence was answer enough. She stepped closer, voice dipping into that seductively soft tone she used when she wanted to manipulate me.

“You don’t need to do anything,” she whispered. “Just put on the show. Play the role. Let me handle Aria. And we would finally get our happily ever after. Together.”

She reached up, threading her fingers through my hair, pulling my mouth down to hers. Her kiss was slow. Possessive. Full of dark promise.

But this time her lips tasted like poison.

* * *

The woods blurred around me as I moved fast, darting between trees, my breath sharp in my chest. My legs ached, my lungs burned, but I didn’t slow.

I had to reach her. I had to warn her.

Even if it meant crossing the edge of Crimson Fang’s territory. Even if I’d be branded a traitor for stepping too far into enemy lands. Even if I've got to get to their packhouse to see her.

I didn’t care.

I needed to see Aria. Needed her to know what Dayana was planning. That she was in danger. That they were watching her. Plotting something with teeth and blood and prophecy.

The path to our meeting place appeared ahead—our place. The ridge above the stream where we always met. Talked. Where I almost kissed her.

It wasn’t the agreed day. I knew that.

But I clung to the desperate hope that maybe, maybe, she’d be there anyway. That some instinct, some tug in her chest, had pulled her toward the same need that was driving me forward.