Chapter 12 Korrak #2
Korrak’s own transformation followed, leaving him naked and steaming in the frigid air as Kol’s approaching footsteps crunched across the ice. His Beta carried a heavy parka, which he tossed to Korrak without comment.
“Efficient,” Kol observed, eyeing Viktor’s unconscious form. “Though I’m guessing you wanted him alive for questioning.”
“Winslet’s ex-fiancé Bracken sent him.” Korrak pulled the parka on, his attention already shifting to Winslet, and not on Kol’s frustrated glare. “I need to know what Bracken’s plan entailed.”
“I’ll secure him and get him to the holding facility. Interrogation once he’s stable enough to talk.” Kol’s gray eyes flicked toward the SUV. “How is she?”
Korrak was already moving, lifting Winslet carefully from the vehicle’s tailgate. Her body was warm but unnaturally limp, her breathing shallow and regular.
“Sedated. Professional grade.” Korrak’s jaw tightened as he cradled her against his chest. “She’ll recover, but she needs warmth and monitoring.”
Kol nodded, already moving toward Viktor’s prone form. “Go. I’ll handle him.”
Korrak didn’t need the invitation. Holding Winslet’s unconscious body crystallized every protective instinct inside him.
The mate bond might terrify her, but it existed whether she accepted it or not.
And that bond demanded he keep her safe, even if she needed space to understand what safety with him actually meant.
The walk back to his Jeep felt both endless and too short—endless because every step reminded him how vulnerable she’d been without his protection, too short because he knew the conversation waiting when she woke would test both their resolve.
No more distance. No more space. Not until Bracken is eliminated and the threat is gone for good.
The decision settled into his bones with the finality of ice forming over water. Winslet could process the mate bond from the safety of his cabin, under his protection, where no one could touch her without going through him first.
His polar bear rumbled approval as he secured her in the passenger seat, her head resting against the window as he drove toward home.
The cabin’s warmth soon wrapped around them as Korrak carried Winslet across the threshold, her unconscious form limp against his chest. Her breathing remained steady but shallow, the sedative’s chemical tang still clinging to her skin beneath the jasmine scent that drove his polar bear to protective fury.
Focus. Care first. Rage later.
Korrak settled her onto his bed with deliberate gentleness, his hands checking her pulse at her wrist—strong, regular—before pulling the heavy quilts up to her chin.
The pallor in her cheeks worried him more than he’d admit aloud.
Viktor’s injection had been professional grade, designed to keep someone unconscious for hours.
His polar bear demanded he hunt down Bracken right now. The beast wanted blood, wanted to tear Bracken limb from limb for orchestrating this violation of his mate. But Winslet needed stability when she woke, not an Alpha consumed by territorial rage.
Korrak forced himself into the kitchen, movements precise and controlled as he pulled ingredients from cabinets.
Chicken broth, herbs, vegetables—simple things that would ground him in purpose while his mind churned with violence.
The knife work required focus, each cut deliberate and clean.
Onions, carrots, celery. The rhythm steadied his breathing.
She’s safe. She’s here.
The mantra repeated as he set the pot to simmer, the rich aroma filling the cabin with domestic normalcy that felt both foreign and essential.
His hands moved through familiar motions—tea leaves measured, water heated, honey set aside for sweetening.
Tasks that kept his body busy while his heart hammered.
The fear sat heavy in his chest, sharp-edged and unforgiving. How close had he come to losing her? Minutes. Seconds, maybe, before Viktor could have disappeared with her into the vastness beyond his territory. The thought made his hands shake as he stirred the soup.
Never again. She doesn’t leave my sight until Bracken is eliminated.
Steam rose from the mug as Korrak poured hot water over the tea leaves, the bergamot scent mingling with the soup’s savory warmth. Everything ready for when she woke. Everything prepared to ground her in safety instead of the terror she’d undoubtedly carry from the attack.
A soft sound from the bedroom drew his attention—not quite a moan, but the subtle shift of someone fighting toward consciousness. Korrak moved silently to the doorway, watching as Winslet’s eyelids fluttered, her breathing pattern changing from sedated sleep to natural waking.
Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused and confused as they swept the room. Then panic hit like lightning.
“No—“ Winslet bolted upright, her hands scrambling across the bedding as terror flooded her features. “Where—Bracken, please, I won’t—“
“Winslet.” Korrak’s voice cut through her panic, low and steady. “You’re safe. You’re in my cabin.”
Her green eyes snapped to his face, recognition dawning through the chemical fog. Relief crashed over her features so violently that tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Korrak.” His name broke from her lips like a prayer. “Oh God, I thought—when I woke up, I expected to see his face, not—“ Her voice cracked. “You came for me.”
“Always.” The word carried absolute certainty. “Viktor won’t touch you again.”
Winslet struggled to sit up fully, her movements still sluggish from the sedative. “I’m so sorry. About earlier, about needing space, about being afraid of—“ She gestured helplessly between them. “The mate bond terrifies me, but losing you terrifies me more.”
Something cracked open in Korrak’s chest, sharp and clean as breaking ice. He moved to the bed’s edge, sitting carefully so he wouldn’t crowd her.
“Never apologize for your fear,” he said firmly. “Never to me, not to fate, not to anyone. Fear keeps you alive.”
“But I hurt you.”
“You protected yourself. That’s what survivors do.” Korrak’s voice carried steel beneath the gentleness. “Bracken taught you that love requires fear. He was wrong.”
Winslet’s breath hitched at the name, fresh panic flickering across her features.
“Bracken offered control masquerading as love,” Korrak continued, his tone dropping to something colder, more dangerous. “What exists between us—the mate bond—isn’t ownership or obligation. It’s partnership. Trust. Safety. Two souls becoming one solid force.”
“I don’t know how to trust that,” she whispered. “Not after—“
“Then learn. Here, with me, where no one can touch you without going through me first.” Korrak’s eyes held hers with unwavering certainty. “The mate bond doesn’t make you just mine, Winslet. It makes us each other’s.”
The distinction settled between them, heavy with promise and possibility. Winslet’s trembling hands reached for his, her fingers intertwining with his larger ones.
“I was so scared I’d never see you again,” she admitted. “That he’d take me back to California, force me to—“ She shuddered. “What did he want with me?”
“Viktor will tell us.” Korrak’s voice carried lethal promise. “Kol has him secured. We’ll get answers.”
“And then?”
“Then Bracken learns what happens when someone threatens my territory and my mate.” Korrak lifted their joined hands, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “But first, you need food and warmth. Can you manage some soup?”
Winslet nodded, allowing him to help her from the bed. Her legs wobbled slightly, the sedative still affecting her coordination, but she leaned into his strength without hesitation.
In the kitchen, Korrak ladled steaming soup into a bowl, the rich broth carrying herbs that would help flush the chemicals from her system. He set it before her along with the mug of tea, honey within easy reach.
“Eat,” he commanded gently. “Your body needs fuel to process what Viktor gave you.”
Winslet obeyed, her first spoonful tentative before hunger took over. Color began returning to her cheeks as the warmth spread through her, grounding her in the present instead of the terror of what might have been.
Korrak watched her eat with the focused intensity of a predator guarding its mate, his mind already shifting toward the interrogation to come. Viktor would talk—about Bracken’s plans, his resources, and his next move.
Because once Bracken learned his tracker had failed, escalation was inevitable.
And Korrak Volkov would be ready.