THE PACK THREW HER INTO A BLIZZARD ON CHRISTMAS EVE

Juliet did not sleep again.

Ronan called a physician at 11:06 p.m.

At 11:41, a woman in a navy parka came through the garage carrying two medical bags and an expression suggesting blizzards were inconveniences rather than emergencies.

“Dr. Maya Chen,” she said. “I’m Ronan’s pack physician.”

Juliet looked at Ronan.

“You have a pack?”

Maya glanced between them.

Ronan answered first.

“Not officially.”

“That means yes,” Maya said.

Ronan gave her a look.

She ignored him.

Blackwood Pack had once controlled most of the northern ridge. After Ronan’s father died, the pack dissolved into smaller territories, but many wolves still considered Ronan their Alpha whether he accepted the title or not.

Maya examined Juliet’s wrist, feet, pupils, temperature, and reflexes. Then she inspected the pills.

Her face lost its humor.

“These are concentrated,” she said.

Juliet sat on the edge of the bed.

“How concentrated?”

“Enough to suppress a mature wolf if taken regularly.”

“I started when I was nine.”

Maya slowly lowered the bottle.

“Who prescribed them?”

“Crescent Ridge clinic.”

“Which doctor?”

“Dr. Mercer first. Then Dr. Sloan after Mercer retired.”

Ronan exchanged a look with Maya.

Juliet saw it.

“What?”

Maya sat beside her.

“Long-term wolfsbane exposure can do more than dampen shifting. It can interfere with scent recognition, mental links, dominance signals, and fertility.”

Juliet stared at her.

“Fertility?”

Ronan’s expression darkened.

Maya continued carefully.

“It can. We’ll run blood work before assuming anything permanent.”

Juliet looked toward the Christmas lights glowing faintly on a tree outside the window.

She remembered Bradley telling her his mother worried she might never produce strong heirs.

She remembered Stella’s father calling her weak-blooded.

She remembered years of apologies for things she had never understood.

Something hot replaced the cold inside her.

“They made me sick,” she whispered.

No one contradicted her.

Maya drew several tubes of blood.

Then she gave Juliet fluids and strict instructions not to take another pill.

“Your wolf may wake quickly,” Maya warned. “If she has been chemically suppressed for this long, withdrawal could be intense.”

“How intense?”

Maya glanced at Ronan.

“Possibly violent.”

Ronan folded his arms.

“She won’t be alone.”

Juliet looked at him.

“I’m not your responsibility.”

“No.”

The answer surprised her.

Ronan met her eyes.

“You’re my guest.”

Not mate.

Not obligation.

Guest.

Juliet looked away before he saw how much that mattered.

After Maya left, Ronan led Juliet downstairs.

The estate had come alive.

A generator hummed somewhere beneath the floor. Lamps glowed along the walls. The kitchen lights were on, and an old stone fireplace now held a roaring fire.

Ronan set a bowl of soup in front of her.

Juliet stared.

“You cook?”

“No.”

She looked at the soup.

“Then should I be afraid?”

“It came frozen.”

“That’s somehow less reassuring.”

A faint smile touched his mouth.

Juliet ate anyway.

Halfway through the bowl, she asked, “How did you know my parents?”

Ronan stopped moving.

He had been pouring coffee.

He set the pot down.

“Your father saved my life.”

Juliet’s spoon froze.

“When?”

“I was seventeen.”

He sat across from her.

“Blackwood and Dawson territory shared a border. My father and yours argued constantly about hunting rights, logging roads, and who had the worse temper.”

Juliet almost smiled.

“Which one did?”

“Your father.”

“Really?”

“No. Mine.”

That did make her smile.

It vanished when Ronan continued.

“One winter, I was caught in a ravine during a rogue attack. Elias found me before my father’s men did. He carried me almost four miles with a broken shoulder.”

Juliet pictured the father she barely remembered.

A broad smile.

Pine branches.

Hands lifting her toward the sky.

Her eyes burned.

“What was he like?”

Ronan’s expression softened.

“Loud. Proud. Impossible. Loyal.”

Juliet looked down.

“And my mother?”

“Mara was smarter than every Alpha in the valley and made sure they knew it.”

A laugh escaped Juliet before she could stop it.

Ronan smiled.

“She kept the Dawson books, negotiated land contracts, ran the clinic, and once made three Alphas wait outside in the rain because they arrived twenty minutes late to a treaty meeting.”

Juliet’s smile faded slowly.

“No one told me any of this.”

“I know.”

She looked up.

“How?”

Ronan’s expression changed.

“Because I asked about you.”

“When?”

“For years.”

Juliet went still.

Ronan leaned back.

“After the accident, Crescent Ridge absorbed Dawson territory under an emergency guardianship agreement. Grant Jenkins told the regional council you were traumatized and medically fragile. He said you needed privacy.”

“I was seven.”

“Yes.”

“He raised me.”

“No,” Ronan said quietly. “His pack raised you. There is a difference.”

Juliet thought about hand-me-down coats, chores, and the bedroom she had shared with two younger omegas until she was nineteen.

Grant had paid for food and school.

He had also reminded her of it every year.

“What was my pack called?”

Ronan looked at her.

“White Pine.”

Something inside Juliet tightened.

She knew the name.

Not from Crescent Ridge.

From dreams.

A white pine tree carved into a kitchen door.

Her mother’s red scarf.

A silver pendant shaped like three pine needles.

Juliet touched her throat automatically.

The necklace was gone.

Bradley’s mother had taken it when Juliet was eight because she said it was unsafe for children.

“White Pine,” Juliet whispered.

Ronan nodded.

“Your father was Alpha.”

Juliet stared at him.

“What?”

“Elias Dawson was Alpha of White Pine. Mara was Luna.”

The spoon slipped from Juliet’s fingers and struck the bowl.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Bradley said my father was a mechanic.”

“He was. He liked engines.”

Juliet stood.

“He said my parents were ordinary pack members.”

“They weren’t.”

She stepped away from the table.

The room suddenly felt too small.

“If my father was Alpha…”

Ronan did not answer.

Juliet looked at him.

“If my father was Alpha, what does that make me?”

“His heir.”

The words hit harder than Bradley’s rejection.

Juliet laughed once, shaking her head.

“I’m an omega.”

Ronan’s gaze sharpened.

“Are you?”

“Everyone says—”

“Everyone who gave you wolfsbane every day?”

She stopped.

Silence filled the kitchen.

Ronan’s voice softened.

“Juliet, classifications given before a wolf fully manifests can be manipulated. Scent can be masked. dominance can be suppressed. Records can be changed.”

“Why?”

“Because White Pine held twenty-two thousand acres of mineral rights, timber access, and mountain water rights.”

Juliet stared.

Ronan continued.

“Grant Jenkins took control after your parents died.”

Her stomach turned.

“So this is about land?”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“No.”

“What do you believe?”

Ronan stood.

“I believe your parents’ accident deserves another look.”

Juliet’s pulse pounded.

“They died in a car crash.”

“Yes.”

“Near Saranac Lake.”

“Yes.”

“On black ice.”

“That was the official report.”

Juliet’s hands went cold.

“What was wrong with it?”

Ronan hesitated.

Then he walked toward a locked cabinet near the fireplace.

He opened it with a key from his pocket and removed a thin leather folder.

He set it on the table.

Juliet looked at the faded papers inside.

Photographs.

Police copies.

Vehicle reports.

One picture showed a crushed black SUV against a guardrail.

Juliet’s knees weakened.

Ronan caught the chair before she fell into it.

“I kept copies,” he said. “My father didn’t believe the crash was accidental.”

Juliet looked at the report.

Ronan pointed to a line.

“The brake hose was severed.”

She stopped breathing.

“That can happen in an accident.”

“Not cleanly.”

Juliet looked at the photograph again.

“Was anyone investigated?”

“Briefly.”

“Who closed it?”

Ronan did not need to answer.

Juliet already knew.

“Grant Jenkins.”

“He was acting regional Alpha at the time.”

Juliet’s vision blurred.

All those years.

All those Christmases at Crescent Ridge.

All those birthdays when Grant had placed a hand on her shoulder and said her parents would be proud of how grateful she had become.

She pushed the folder away.

“I need air.”

“You’re not going outside.”

She glared at Ronan.

He lifted both hands.

“Porch. Enclosed. Heated.”

Juliet followed him through a side hall.

The glass-enclosed porch overlooked the storm.

Snow buried the mountain beneath white darkness.

Juliet stood near the windows.

“I loved Bradley,” she said.

Ronan said nothing.

“For three years, I thought he was the only person in that house who saw me.”

Her voice broke.

“What if he knew?”

Ronan’s expression hardened.

“We don’t know that.”

“What if he did?”

“Then he will answer for it.”

Juliet turned toward him.

“You keep saying things like that.”

“Like what?”

“As if you can make people answer.”

Ronan looked out at the storm.

“I can.”

She almost rolled her eyes.

Then she remembered who he was.

Ronan Blackwood’s companies owned hospitals, construction firms, and energy projects across three states. Wolves whispered that he could bankrupt entire packs without shifting once.

Juliet crossed her arms.

“Why are you really helping me?”

He looked at her.

“Because your father saved my life.”

“That’s not all.”

“No.”

“The mate bond.”

“Yes.”

Juliet’s stomach tightened.

Ronan stepped closer, then stopped well outside her reach.

“I won’t lie to you. My wolf recognized you before I knew your name. Every instinct I have is telling me to keep you here, protect you, and destroy anyone who threatens you.”

Juliet stared.

“That sounds healthy.”

“It is deeply inconvenient.”

Despite everything, she laughed.

Ronan’s mouth curved.

Then his expression sobered.

“But instinct is not consent. You don’t owe me a bond because fate decided to be dramatic on Christmas Eve.”

Juliet’s chest tightened.

“Bradley used to say fate was for weak wolves who couldn’t make their own choices.”

“What do you think?”

Juliet looked through the glass at the storm.

“I think I’d like one choice tonight that belongs entirely to me.”

Ronan nodded.

“Then make one.”

She looked at him.

“What?”

“Stay until the roads clear. Leave tomorrow if you want. Stay longer if you want answers. Sleep in any room. Lock the door. Take my car when the roads open.”

He paused.

“No conditions.”

Juliet studied him.

“Why does that sound more terrifying than an order?”

“Because you’re not used to choices.”

The truth of it hurt.

Before she could respond, Ronan’s phone vibrated.

He checked the screen.

His face changed.

“What?” Juliet asked.

He turned the phone toward her.

A message from the estate security gate had appeared.