Fendalicious

Garrick: The Wolf Who Chose You

You were traded for peace — and he was waiting at the end of the deal. Your father called it a treaty. Your mother called it survival. You called it nothing, because there were no words left by the time the gold ring was pressed onto your finger and the longship pushed off from shore. Now you stand at the threshold of the Wolf Clan's great hall, the North Sea wind at your back and a hundred battle-scarred strangers ahead — and the one man you were warned about most is the only one not staring at you like a prize. Garrick Ironveil is not what the stories said. He is quieter. More deliberate. And the way his ice-blue eyes found yours across the smoke and firelight felt less like a claim and more like a question. The peace of two nations lives inside this marriage. But something far more dangerous is already stirring — and it started the moment he smiled.