Chapter Thirty-Six
Dahlia
“He told you his name?” Sita asks, shocked into speaking.
I glance at her, pulse hammering in my throat. The wind howls through the mountains, whipping loose strands of my hair into my face, but I barely register it.
Sita’s dark eyes search mine, and she whispers, “Migoi only tell their mates their names. They have great power. In all the centuries this Migoi has been here, no one knows his name. Except you.”
Her whispered words hit like a thunderclap. My knees nearly buckle.
Mate.
The word sinks its teeth into my ribs, clamping down so tight I can’t breathe.
A roaring fills my ears, but I don’t know if it’s the wind or my own blood, surging like a storm through my veins.
My body knows something before my mind does—knows in the way my stomach drops, in the way my fingers tingle with something electric, in the way my heart clenches so tightly it may burst.
The wind doesn’t howl anymore. The mountain doesn’t exist. There is only this truth.
I am in love with a Yeti.
And he—
He loved me first.
A terrible, aching clarity settles over me.
I think back to the soapberry, placed at the base of the frozen waterfall like an offering.
The scrap of lace he left in the snow, a thread of red in the white expanse, a trail meant only for me.
The mark he carved into stone, his silent call to me across the mountain.
Eryon didn’t need to leave me clues. But he did because he wanted me to find him.
And that means despite his fury, despite the pain in his voice when he forbade me to say his name—he still wants me here.
I am his mate. I choose Eryon, and the realization steals the breath from my lungs.
He’s furious. I can feel it, thrumming in the air like the coming storm. But beneath the rage, beneath the tension coiled in his massive frame like a wound too deep to close, I feel something else.
Something fragile. Something raw.
I know he witnessed our journey, saw me battle the whispering gorge, watched as I braved the screaming wind and the snow and the mountain.
And I know, deep in my bones, that if we had been in true danger, he would have come.
But this—this is different. This is my fight.
It is my turn to show him that he is worth saving, too.
I will be the white knight. I’ll save the day, and then I can explain everything—my subterfuge, my deception, my desperation. Then, we can forget the rest of the world.
Even if staying here with him means my death, I’d rather die by his side than live without him. Let it be here in his arms, swallowed by his warmth, buried in his scent, lost in the quiet sanctuary of his cave.
Let me be his.
A shuddering breath escapes me, curling in the frozen air. My heart pounds, steady, insistent. I would finally be living for myself—a life on my terms, driven by my own choices. And if love is the sum of those choices, then so be it.
I deserve Eryon. My heart beats his name like a mantra, fueling me with a fierce determination. My gaze snaps back to him, willing him to understand. Desperately trying to communicate with him by my eyes alone.
I try to piece together a solution, shifting the invisible chessboard in my mind, searching for the elusive strategy that will save us.
But the odds are daunting. Ahead of me stands one very enraged Yeti, and behind me looms one very dangerous man.
The space between them feels like a no-man's-land, and I am the one caught in the crossfire.
There are no good moves. No safe exits. Someone is going to lose, and I will make sure that it is not going to be Eryon.
A loud click breaks the silence, and I spin back to Ben to see him holding a gun, aimed straight at Eryon. The stakes have just been upped. The fading light glinting wickedly off the metal slams into me like a physical blow.
“I was hoping you would lure him out. I can’t imagine what the payout will be for this monster plus the plant. You won’t be so fierce when you’re locked in a cage, snowman,” Ben sneers.
No.
Not again. Not another loss. Not another wound carved into Eryon’s soul. Not this time.
A sharp inhale cuts through my lungs, too shallow, too tight. I see everything at once—Sita, frozen in horror. Eryon, body coiled, muscles flexing, teeth bared. Ben’s finger tightening on the trigger.
A lifetime of fieldwork has trained me to observe first, to analyze, to think—but this isn’t that kind of moment. Because I’m not Dahlia, the scientist anymore. I am Sruhnar, and I am going to protect my mate.
I don’t think. Instead, I react on pure primitive instinct.
Time fractures. I see Sita’s mouth open in a scream, but all I hear is the determined beat of my own heart, pushing out the blood I need to save him.
I don’t feel the burn in my legs as I throw myself forward, snow crunching, gravel kicking up in my wake.
I don’t heed the wind howling around us, the mountains crying their warnings.
The only thing that exists is that gun. This moment. This choice.
I push faster. Each movement is unstoppable. I am already marked for death; let Eryon have a second chance.
In slow motion, I see the minute motion of Ben’s finger pulling the trigger followed by the recoil.
I should be scared, terrified of being shot, but instead, all I feel is a deep sense of calm in achieving what I had set out to do.
For even if I die, Eryon will know that he is worth saving.
There is no greater purpose for my life that I could have chosen.
I brace myself for the impact of the bullet, but there is no deafening crack, no explosion of pain. Instead, a sharp sting pierces my shoulder. I look down, but instead of the blood I expect to see blooming from a gunshot wound, I find a dart.
I try to reach for it, but my arm won’t listen.
Instead, it falls limply to my side as a wave of syrupy warmth floods my veins, sticky and slow.
My legs buckle, and I crash hard onto my knees, the impact rattling up my spine.
Then the ice rushes up to meet me. My head hits with a solid crack, and stars dance in my vision.
I am completely paralyzed. Helpless to do anything except watch.
I feel everything—the shock of the cold ground pressed against my cheek, the icy wind whipping snow against my face. My lungs seize. I try to breathe, but the air is too thick. The weight in my limbs spreads until I am as heavy as stone.
I can’t see Eryon anymore, but I know he’s there. I can feel him, just beyond the dark closing in. I wish I could call out to him. Just once. I wish I could tell him this was my choice. That I would choose him every time.
A shadow moves over me, and for a brief second, hope flares in my chest that I will at least get to see him once more. But I truly am cursed, because instead Ben’s ugly mug floods my vision.
If I had the strength, I would be furious that his is the last face I see instead of my mate’s. But my mind is too tired for even that.
For a second, something flickers across his face that looks like regret. As if he can’t believe he pulled the trigger. As if, for one fleeting moment, he remembers who I used to be.
The girl who gave up everything for him. The girl who pushed his work forward, made him look brilliant, built his success at the cost of her own. The girl who let herself shrink so he could shine. The one who would have done anything to stand by his side.
But that girl is gone.
In her place, a woman lies paralyzed in the snow. And if he mourns her at all, it isn’t for my sake. It’s for the control he lost. The power he will never hold over me again.
His jaw tightens, and the moment evaporates like a cloud of breath in the cold. There is no remorse. Only greed. The truth pierces my foggy thoughts—I was always disposable to him.
Somewhere behind me, Eryon moves. I cannot see him, but I feel it in the way the air shifts and the pressure changes. A presence so vast it warps the space around him. Unstoppable. Inevitable.
The storm has broken—and Eryon is the avalanche.
A roar tears through the air. Not just a sound, but a reckoning. It crashes against the mountains, rolling through the cliffs, shaking the trees down to their roots. Snow tumbles in thick sheets from the ledges above, a force of nature set loose.
It reverberates through my bones and rattles in my chest, a sound so powerful it feels like a touch, his touch. A sound that is not just rage but promise.
You will not take her from me.
A roar that does not just judge, but condemns. That does not bargain, does not plead, does not leave room for mercy. A deep guttural promise of not just destruction, but death. The scales of nature will be balanced.
Ben stumbles back, face as pale as the surrounding snow. His bravado falters for the first time—he looks afraid.
I force my lips to move, my breath shallow, my strength draining from me like melting snow. My voice is barely a whisper, but I make sure Ben hears it. I need him to hear it.
Before the darkness claims me, with the very last iota of strength I have left, I gasp, “You're the only monster here, Ben.”