When I got home, I finally replied to the email that had been inviting me—once a year, for seven years.

“I accept the position as an FBI consultant.

I’ll report to the Los Angeles headquarters in three days.”

I packed my suitcase, booked the flight, took a shower, and tried to sleep.

I’d barely started drifting off when voices drifted in from the courtyard.

“…Don, I can’t thank you enough. I hate troubling you this late.”

Fianna.

“Don’t mention it,” Adrian Holt said, his voice low, steady, commanding. “This is your sister’s house. Frost has been stationed overseas for years; she barely returns. An empty house is still an empty house. Since your apartment is compromised, stay here. As long as you need.”

A cold shock ripped up my spine.

I sat up, threw the covers off, and ran—barefoot—straight to the door. I yanked it open.

The two figures in the courtyard turned toward me at the same time.

Adrian stood tall in a dark wool coat, broad-shouldered, the silver moonlight outlining him like a blade.

Fianna huddled beside him in a worn coat and a scarf, eyes red as if she'd been crying for hours—every inch the fragile damsel tucked under a powerful man’s wing.

For a split second, Adrian looked glad to see me.

Then he seemed to realize what my presence meant.

And his face went still.

No joy.

No “you’re home.”

Only cold scrutiny.

And displeasure.

“Frost?” His brows drew tight. “What are you doing here? Your reassignment request was denied. Who authorized you to return without permission?”

The words hit harder than any bullet.

I had traveled halfway across the world for him.

And the first thing he did was question why I dared show up.

Was I always meant to stay tucked away in that godforsaken border territory?

I swallowed. “My request was denied. But I was seriously injured. The family granted me seven days of medical leave.”

“Injured?” Adrian’s face shifted. He stepped forward fast. “Where? How bad?”

I lifted my sleeve.

Under the moonlight, my arm—once pale and soft—was a map of survival:

deep scars from frostbite, cuts from broken equipment, bruises from hauling crates, burns from improvised repairs…

Ugly. Raw. Brutal.

Adrian’s pupils constricted sharply.

“What happened to you? Frost—what the hell—how did it get this bad?”

I let him hold my arm.

For once, I didn’t pull away.

“The heaters at the outpost failed during a snowstorm.

We held the line at minus thirty, weapons icing over, fingers going numb around the triggers.”

I kept my voice flat.

“Metal railings and gun barrels froze solid. If you touched them without insulated gloves, your skin tore when you pulled away.”

“The border routes were constantly hit. Ambushes at night, sniper fire at dawn. Shrapnel didn’t always kill—but it lodged under the skin, and you learned to keep moving anyway.”

“When we ran supply and ammunition, the weight of the gear cut into our shoulders and ribs. The straps soaked through with blood, stiffened when they dried. Taking them off reopened the wounds every single time.”

I wasn’t emotional.

I wasn’t accusing him.

I was just telling the truth.

Every word landed on him like a blow.

He trembled. His jaw clenched. His eyes flickered with shock, pain, guilt—

Until Fianna finally decided to speak.

“Oh, come on, Holt,” she said softly, with that trembling-little-bird voice she’d perfected. “It’s not that bad. I was stationed in that region for half a year. It was rough, sure, but not like she’s describing.”

Her eyes slid to me, gentle on the surface, sharp underneath.

“Sis… maybe you’re exaggerating a little because you want Holt to feel sorry for you? To get him to bring you back sooner?”

Her words hit him like a bucket of ice water—

and I watched the flicker of emotion in Adrian Holt’s eyes die instantly.

The guilt, the brief softness… gone.

In their place came a sharp, wounded anger.

“Frost,” he snapped at me, “your assignments are determined by the organization. Don’t try to manipulate me like this. When your leave ends, you’ll report back. And stop entertaining thoughts you shouldn’t have.”

I actually wanted to laugh.

But my lips wouldn’t move.

I parted them to speak—

and he cut me off again.

“Right. You’re Fianna’s sister. Her place collapsed last night—the whole damn side wing caved in. Since you have extra rooms here, she’ll stay with you for now.”

“No.”

“If you want to ‘take her in,’ let her stay at your place.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Adrian barked. “A man and a woman living under the same roof? What would people say?”

“Then find her someplace else.”

I wasn’t backing down.

“Frost!” His voice dropped into a dangerous growl. “You’re being unbelievably selfish. Fianna’s husband died for the family—she’s a widow of the family. As the future Donna, you should know how to treat the relatives of our fallen men.

And she’s your sister!”

Future Donna?

Selfish?

I looked at him—at that righteous fury like he was some saint—and all I felt was a bitter, humorless laugh rising in my throat.

When he denied my transfer requests again and again, leaving me to freeze and bleed in the Border—was I the future Donna then?

When he kept giving my return slots to other soldiers, so I couldn’t even see my dying grandmother one last time—

where was this lecture on duty?

Now he wanted to preach?

I was tired. Bone-deep tired.

“Don,” I said, steadying my breath even as something sharp twisted deep in my chest, “Fianna can stay. But only for seven days. When my leave ends, she leaves too. If she’s still here after that… I won’t be polite.”

“You—” Adrian began.

But Fianna gently touched his sleeve, her eyes shimmering like she was one breath from tears.

“Adrian… don’t fight with my sister. Seven days is fine. My house should be repaired soon. I won’t trouble Frost longer than that.”

Her soft, fragile act made me look cold. Cruel. Heartless.

Adrian swallowed his anger, turned to her, and said, “Stay for now. If you need anything, call me.”

Then he faced me—his voice low, hard.

“Treat her well. No attitude.”

And he turned and walked out without a single glance back.

The moment the gate shut, Fianna’s entire demeanor snapped away like a discarded mask.

“Surprised to see me, Frost?” she said, voice dripping venom. “Adrian called me back himself. He even picked me up from the station.”

My hand paused over the table I was wiping, but I didn’t answer.

She stepped closer.

“I’ve loved Adrian since I was a kid. But he only ever saw you. Funny how things change, isn’t it?”

Her eyes glittered with malice.

“God, you look nothing like the girl who used to turn heads at every gala. No wonder Adrian keeps denying your transfer. Men don’t bring back what’s already lost its shine.”

She leaned in, whispering like she wanted every word to cut.

“You can’t hold a man because you’re not worth holding. But don’t worry—I’ll take good care of him. After all… I’m a widow of the family. He has a ‘duty’ to me.”

I lifted my eyes to her then.

She flinched.

“Are you done?” I asked quietly.

She blinked, taken aback.

“Then go back to your room,” I said, resuming my work. “You’re ruining the view.”

Fianna stiffened, furious, but something in my indifference made her swallow whatever insult she wanted to spit.

She huffed, turned, and slammed the guest room door.

I finished cleaning, showered in the cramped bathroom, and went to my room.

Her lights were off.

I didn’t care enough to wonder why.

I closed my door and slept.

—

Shouting tore me out of my sleep.

“Fianna! Fianna—hey! Stay with me! Wake up!”

Adrian’s voice.

My heart lurched into my throat.

I threw on a coat and ran outside—

—and froze.

The courtyard was still blanketed with untouched snow.

And Fianna was curled in the corner, wearing nothing but a thin nightdress, skin blue-white, lips nearly black, shivering like she’d spent the entire night freezing alone.

“Fianna! Fianna—wake up! Talk to me!”

I recognized Adrian Holt’s voice instantly.

My heart lurched. I threw on a coat and rushed outside.

The sight in the courtyard stopped me cold.

Snow still covered the ground. Fianna was curled against the stone wall, wearing nothing but a thin nightgown. Her skin was waxy pale, her lips already turning blue—like someone who had been left out in the cold far too long.

Adrian was kneeling beside her, his jaw clenched tight, veins standing out at his temples as he tried to wrap his own overcoat around her shaking body, calling her name over and over.

When he saw me, his head snapped up.

The look in his eyes—shock, fury, accusation—hit me like a gunshot.

“Frost,” he barked, “look at what you’ve done.”

Fianna’s eyes fluttered open. Her voice was weak, trembling, soaked in tears.

“Adrian… I was so cold… I couldn’t sleep last night. I put some music on—maybe it was too loud. Frost got angry… she made me leave… It was dark… I was scared to bother you… so I stayed by the wall…”

Her words broke off. Her head lolled to the side.

“Fianna!” Adrian shouted.

He scooped her into his arms and turned on me, eyes blazing.

“What are you standing there for? Get a car. Now. We’re going to the hospital.”

My blood rushed to my head.

I ran toward him. “Adrian—listen to me. That’s not what happened. I didn’t even know—”

“Enough.” His voice cut through me like steel. “Save it until she’s safe.”

He was already moving.

I chased after them, but I couldn’t keep up. I could only watch as he carried her into the waiting SUV and disappeared down the road.

I stood there in the snow, shaking.

No.

I couldn’t let this stand.

I went to the hospital.

Adrian was pacing outside the emergency room when I arrived. When he saw me, his expression hardened.

I opened my mouth to speak.

He didn’t let me.

“You’ve become vicious, Frost,” he said coldly. “Her husband was just killed for this family. She’s unstable, grieving. She plays some music at night, and you throw her out into the cold? Were you trying to kill her?”

“I didn’t force her out!” I shouted. “I didn’t even hear the music. I went to bed. Adrian—how many times has Fianna lied about me since we were kids? Why won’t you believe me?”

“Evidence?” His gaze was merciless. “She’s inside fighting frostbite. And you’re standing here unharmed. Tell me—who should I believe?”

I had no answer.

The ER doors opened.

Adrian rushed forward. “Doctor?”

“She has severe frostbite,” the doctor said grimly. “You got her here just in time. Another hour, and we would’ve been talking about amputation.”

Adrian sucked in a sharp breath, his hands clenching into fists.

“The damage to her nerves and blood vessels is permanent,” the doctor continued. “From now on, cold and damp weather will cause chronic pain. Her mobility will never fully recover.”

Adrian turned to me slowly.

The disappointment and rage in his eyes burned deeper than any slap.

“You hear that?” he said. “Because of you, she’ll suffer for the rest of her life. Her husband who died protecting this family. And you—my future Donna—treated his widow like this?”

“I didn’t do it!” My voice broke. “Why won’t you investigate? Why won’t you even question her story?”

“Investigate?” He laughed without humor. “The facts are clear.”

His tone shifted—cold, official.

“As Don—and as your fiancé—I’m enforcing discipline.”

He turned to his guard. “Remove her coat. Take her to the rear courtyard. She stays outside until morning.”

The guard froze. “Don… it’s below freezing.”

“Do it.”

I stared at Adrian, disbelief crashing over me.

He was really going to do this.

The guard approached me, voice low. “I’m sorry, Frost…”

I stepped back, clutching my coat. “Adrian Holt,” I said hoarsely. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I dare,” he said, closing the distance between us. “You broke discipline. This is consequence. If I don’t make an example of you, what kind of Don am I?”

My coat was ripped away.

Moments later, I was standing in the open snow behind the hospital.

The wind cut into me like knives. My body shook uncontrollably. My hands stiffened, refusing to obey me.

The guard lingered, miserable. “Frost… maybe apologize. I’ll speak to him—”

I shook my head.

I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Tears streamed down my face.

Growing up, my parents’ love was never divided equally.

Fianna was the one they protected, the one they shielded.

Adrian was the only one who ever stood between me and that neglect.

He stayed by my side when no one else did.

He told me that when I grew up, I would be his Donna—his wife, his future.

Every time I was scolded for something Fianna had done,

he would reach for my hand, squeeze it tight, and tell me not to cry.

He promised me—swore to me—that he would love me for the rest of his life.

I believed him.

But now, he doesn’t protect me anymore.

He doesn’t trust me.

He doesn’t choose me.

Second by second, the cold seeps deeper, finding every crack in my body.

My fingers go numb.

My legs stop responding.

The world blurs at the edges as sensation drains away—

—and just as darkness overtakes me, I feel strong arms wrap around me.

Adrian’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and panicked:

“Frost! Hold on! Somebody call a doctor! Hurry!”

And everything else fades into the sound of his frantic, desperate care.