The snowstorm had not relented for two days.
Lan Xiyue moved through it like a shadow, his black cloak whipping behind him, boots crunching over ice without a single misstep. The faint trace of Ruo Han's scent was nearly gone—masked by mountain winds and… something else.
A foreign Alpha's scent.
His jaw tightened.
He stopped at a narrow ridge, gazing down into a small clearing. Smoke rose from a cabin tucked against the slope. Xiyue's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, the polished steel whispering as he drew it an inch from its scabbard.
Inside, Ruo Han sat by the fire, his wrists bound with silk. Ling Han knelt before him, head bent low as if speaking something only the Omega could hear. Ruo Han's eyes were wide—not with fear, but something sharper.
Xiyue stepped forward. The snow under his boots betrayed his presence.
Ling Han's head snapped up. Their eyes met through the narrow window.
The air between them shifted—a predator's recognition.
The cabin door burst open a moment later. Ling Han emerged, sword already in hand, snow catching in his dark hair.
Ling Han: "Lan Xiyue."
Xiyue: "Step aside."
Ling Han smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Ling Han: "If you want him, you'll have to go through me."
From inside, Ruo Han's voice rang out.
Ruo Han: "Xiyue—wait! He's telling the truth!"
The Alpha faltered, just slightly. Snowflakes caught in his lashes, melting against the heat radiating from his skin.
Xiyue: "…What truth?"
Ling Han's smile deepened, voice low and taunting.
Ling Han: "The truth your Sect has been hiding from you both."
The wind roared between them, and in that sound, the mountain seemed to hold its breath.