After what felt like an eternity, Grayson slowed. His breaths came in deep, even huffs as he trotted toward a secluded clearing. He crouched to let her slide off, and she took a second to find her footing since her legs trembled from the ride.
“You could’ve warned me,” she complained, glaring at him as he shifted back into his human form. His very naked human form. The transformation was just as seamless as before, but she didn’t have the energy to be impressed this time, even if he looked like some kind of Adonis carved from marble.
Grayson scanned the tree line before settling his attention back on her. “We can’t stay here.”
“No kidding. They’ll sniff us out in no time.”
“We’ll keep moving. We need to get back to Bellefleur.”
Cora wanted to argue, to yell at him, to tell him to shove his stoic hero routine where the sun didn’t shine. But instead, she just nodded as the fight drained out of her. She didn’t trust him—couldn’t—but the bond between them served as a reminder of how intertwined their fates had become.
For now, she had no choice but to follow him. But one way or another, she’d find a way to untangle herself from this mess. She just had to survive long enough to figure out how.
Chapter 4 - Grayson
Grayson’s wolf wouldn’t shut up. It prowled at the edge of his mind, pacing with every step, every noise, every subtle shift in the forest around them. The bond had amplified its instincts to a level he hadn’t expected, turning even the faintest crack of a twig into a potential threat. It wasn’t just protective but possessive, which was a problem.
“You’re doing it again,” Cora commented.
“Doing what?” he asked, not breaking stride.
“You get this furrowed-brow, doom-and-gloom look. It’s very dramatic.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. She’d wrapped her arms around herself against the chill, and her steps were uneven as she picked her way over the rocky trail. Despite everything—the blood on her wrists, the exhaustion in her gait—her defiance hadn’t dimmed. Her chin was tipped up, and her glare was fixed squarely on him. He couldn’t decide if it annoyed him or impressed him. Probably both.
“Just keeping an eye out,” he explained, turning his attention back to the trees. “You’d prefer I didn’t?”
“An eye out for what?” she asked. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Unless you think Voss has GPS on us, I think we’re safe for five minutes.”
He didn’t answer. It wasn’t worth explaining to her how deep the network ran, how shifters like Voss didn’t rely on technology when they had hunters who could track a scent for miles. He hadn’t been in Bellefleur for months, but thanks to that auction, he knew the darkness crept around its edges, spilling out into places like this. Cora didn’t know it yet, but shewas caught in the middle of something much bigger than either of them.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she pressed, quickening her pace to catch up to him. “Why are you so twitchy?”
Grayson sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Because I’d rather not get ambushed. Again.”
“Fair,” she admitted, though her tone held a trace of sarcasm. “But maybe you could tone down the ‘lone wolf on a mission’ vibe. It’s exhausting.”
He glanced at her again, and despite himself, the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Lone wolf?”
“Well, yeah. That’s your whole thing, right? Broody, stoic, allergic to teamwork?”
“I’m not allergic to teamwork. I work black ops. It’s all teamwork.”
She snorted. “So where’s your team now? Or are you just playing solo hero today?”
Grayson huffed out a breath. He wasn’t about to explain the intricacies of black ops operations to her, let alone the fact that the rest of his team didn’t even know he’d gone this deep. This mission had been personal from the start, a way to bury himself in something—anything—that didn’t involve returning to Bellefleur and facing the ghosts he’d left behind.
“You don’t need to know where they are. Just that they’re out there.”
“Cryptic. Love that.”
He didn’t respond. Talking to her was dangerous, and not just because she wasn’t sharp, but because she was too sharp.She poked at his defenses, and if he wasn’t careful, her questions might slip past the walls he’d built over years of staying detached. He couldn’t afford to let that happen. Not when the bond was already pulling him toward her in ways he couldn’t control.
His wolf shifted uneasily again, and he clenched his fists, forcing the feeling down. He needed to stay focused. Cora wasn’t his mate. She couldn’t be. The bond was a spell, not fate, and letting his wolf think otherwise wouldn’t do anyone any good.
The memory hit him before he could stop it—a flash of soft laughter, warm hands, and the hollow ache that followed. He hadn’t thought of her in months, maybe years. The mission didn’t leave room for grief, and he’d learned to bury it deep enough that it didn’t surface. But now, with the bond tugging at him and Cora’s presence disrupting every carefully constructed barrier, it all felt too close.
“Grayson?” Cora’s voice pulled him back. “You spacing out again?”
