She’s quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Some wounds never fully heal,” she says softly, and I know she’s not just talking about physical injuries.
I bring her a plate—beans and corn mixed together, with a small portion of jerky on the side. Not appetizing to look at, but nourishing.
“What about you?” I ask, settling on the floor beside her bed with my own plate. “You mentioned your pack, but not how you became Beta.”
She picks at her food, considering her answer. “I was born into Shadowmist. My parents were pack members—not high-ranking, just… pack. They were killed when I was nine protecting me and my brother from fae hunters. Much like yours.”
The parallel surprises me. “Were you there?”
“Yeah. My brother Dane, he’s…” She hesitates, pain flashing across her features. “He’s my twin. We hid while our parents were killed. The Beta took us in. We spent most of the war learning how to fight from her.”
“And you rose through the ranks.”
She nods. “I had something to prove. A debt to repay. And a need to make sure no one I cared about would ever be unprotected again.”
The fierceness in her voice stirs something in me. Admiration, certainly. But also recognition—I see in her the same driving purpose that has kept me moving all these years, even if our paths have been different.
“And now you’re the Beta,” I say. “Second-in-command to the most powerful pack in the region.”
“And captured by the first traitor I should have seen coming.” Bitterness laces her words. “Some protector I turned out to be.”
“You survived,” I point out. “You escaped. And now you’ll warn your pack about what’s coming. I’d call that a win.”
She meets my gaze, searching for sincerity or mockery. Finding the former, she relaxes slightly. “Maybe. If we make it back in time.”
“We will.” I sound more confident than I feel, but she needs that right now. Certainty. Purpose.
We eat in silence for a while, the simple food tasting like a feast after days of near-starvation. When she’s finished, I take her plate, pleased to see she’s eaten everything.
“Thank you,” she says suddenly.
“For the five-star dining experience?” I gesture at the empty plates. “Thank the owner for never tossing anything out.”
“For staying.” Her voice is quiet but firm. “You could have escaped without me. I’m grateful you didn’t.”
Her raw honesty catches me off guard. I look away, uncomfortable with gratitude I don’t feel I’ve earned.
“I told you,” I say gruffly. “It was the logical choice. Better odds together than alone.”
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. Logic had nothing to do with it. The truth—that she’s my mate, that leaving her would have been like tearing out my own heart, that I’d rather die in that cell than live free without her—is too much. Too soon. She doesn’t know what she is to me, doesn’t feel the bond that’s been driving me since the moment I recognized her. How do I explain that abandoning her was never even a possibility? That every instinct I have screams to protect her, to stay close, to never let her out of my sight again?
I can’t.
There’s a small smile tugging at her lips. “Still. Thank you.”
I nod. “Get some rest. Your body needs sleep to heal.”
“And you?” she challenges. “When was the last time you slept more than an hour at a time?”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.” She shifts on the bed, making room. “There’s spacefor two, and we both need rest. I promise not to ravish you in your weakened state.”
The unexpected teasing startles a laugh from me. “Very generous of you.”
