POV: Francesca
Thunder exploded behind me, so loud it felt as if the mountain itself had cracked open. A blast of icy wind surged in from the entrance, carrying rain and the raw fury of the storm, and I staggered, clutching my soaked cloak tighter around myself.
Outside, the forest screamed.
Wind howled through the trees like a living thing in pain, and the wolf cries rose again—closer now, no longer distant echoes but sharp, unmistakable voices threading through the night. My teeth chattered uncontrollably, my fingers numb as the cold finally sank deep into my bones.
I turned halfway toward the cave entrance, panic clawing at my chest. The darkness beyond the stone mouth pulsed with lightning, brief flashes revealing twisted trunks and whipping branches. If I ran now, I might make it a few steps before my strength failed me. Or before something found me.
I drew in a shaky breath and looked back at the cage.
Wilhelm had not moved. He watched me with infuriating calm, golden eyes steady and alert, as if the storm and the howls were nothing more than background noise. His hand was still extended through the bars, fingers slightly curled, waiting.
The red thread between us pulsed warmly, its glow brighter now, almost insistent. Each beat echoed through my wrist and up my arm, answering the frantic rhythm of my heart.
I hated how my feet shifted toward him before I had fully decided to move. How my body seemed to understand something my mind refused to accept.
Another violent gust tore through the cave, making me gasp. I hugged myself, shoulders shaking as the cold became unbearable, sinking past skin and muscle until it felt lodged in my bones.
“I’m freezing…” The words slipped out before I could stop them, thin and trembling.
Wilhelm’s gaze darkened. He stretched his hand farther, chains rasping softly as the movement pulled against the remnants of his restraints. His fingers were so close now that I could almost feel the heat radiating from his skin.
“I will warm you,” he murmured. His voice was low, intimate, threaded with something dangerously seductive. “Let me out.”
The simplicity of the demand terrified me more than any threat could have. I stared at the glowing bars, at the runes carved into the iron, at the silver shackles that bound him. Everything about this place screamed warning.
“How can I release you?” I asked, my voice shaking despite my effort to steady it. “What if I regret it?”
Wilhelm tilted his head slightly, studying me as if the answer were obvious. “Do you regret jumping from the carriage?” he asked quietly.
My jaw tightened as I glanced toward the cave entrance again, where rain lashed the stone and the forest waited like an open grave.
“I chose freedom,” I whispered, more to convince myself than him.
His gaze flicked briefly to the red thread connecting us before returning to my face. “Then choose it again.”
The storm seemed to rage in response, thunder cracking so violently that dust shook loose from the cave ceiling. The wolf howls rose once more, unmistakably closer, sending a spike of fear through my chest.
They were coming.
I turned fully toward the cave mouth, imagining myself stumbling back into the storm, soaked and limping, hunted and alone. The image ended the same way every time—with blood on the leaves, or my body growing still beneath the rain.
“Prince…” I said, the word tasting strange on my tongue. “You look like a real monster.”
Something sharp flickered in his eyes at the name, a flash of emotion gone almost before I could identify it. The warmth spreading through my body intensified as I stepped closer to the cage door, drawn forward despite every warning screaming in my head.
My gaze dropped to the massive rune-carved lock hanging heavy and solid against the iron. It looked ancient. Absolute.
“What if I can’t open it?” I whispered. “What if it’s beyond me?”
Wilhelm’s fingers hovered inches from mine, separated only by air and iron. “Touch it,” he said softly. “The Moon Goddess did not bring you here to fail.”
“She never answered me before,” I said bitterly.
The moment my fingers brushed the lock, warmth surged through me—stronger than before, rushing from the red thread into my hand like a living current. The metal vibrated beneath my touch, humming as if recognizing something long denied.
I gasped and tried to pull back, but it was already happening.
The runes dimmed. The iron darkened. Then the lock crumbled, collapsing into flakes of rust that spilled through my fingers and scattered across the stone floor.
I stumbled backward, staring in disbelief. The cave fell silent, and then—
The cage door swung open with a deep, resonant creak that echoed through the cavern like a declaration. The silver shackles around Wilhelm’s wrists and ankles fractured and fell away, clattering heavily against the stone.
He rose slowly, unfolding to his full height, every movement deliberate and controlled. Torchlight slid over his body, catching on old scars and powerful muscle.
As he straightened, I watched in stunned silence as his hair began to change.
The platinum strands darkened gradually, as if shadows were bleeding through them. Pale silver became ash, then deepened further until his hair was a rich, inky black, framing his face and making his golden eyes burn even brighter.
My breath caught painfully. He stepped out of the cage.
His movements were smooth, predatory, each step measured as if he were aware of the effect he had on me. The red thread between us flared brilliant and hot, its glow filling the space between our bodies. A sudden rush of energy swept through the cave, lifting my hair as though caught in an unseen wind.
I backed away instinctively, my heel scraping against stone.
Wilhelm closed the distance in seconds. His hand came up and seized my chin, firm enough to still me without hurting. I froze, heart racing, caught between fear and something far more dangerous.
“Please…” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Never,” he said, the word heavy with promise.
Before I could speak again, he drew me into his arms. I was pressed against his bare chest, solid and impossibly warm, the heat of him seeping into me until my shaking eased despite myself. His scent wrapped around me—smoke, storm, and something wild beneath it.
He lowered his head, inhaling slowly, deeply, as if committing me to memory. His breath brushed my hair, my throat, sending a shiver through me that had nothing to do with cold.
Then he tilted his head back slightly. In the flickering torchlight, his sharp fangs hovered just above my neck.