I want to fight. For her, I’d fight the devil himself. I try to tell her that, but my lips won’t move.
My pack is here. I can feel them. They’re trying to save me, but it’s her I’m reaching for.
Get up,she urges, her image wavering.Find me.
But then the image shifts. It fractures like broken glass. Her hair darkens to a rich, warm gold. The softness in her eyes sharpens into warrior-like determination. The face is still beautiful, still familiar, but it’s not Brylee.
It’s Teddie.
The name hits me like a physical blow, a jolt of pure, unadulterated confusion.
Teddie.
Goddamn Teddie.
Her twin brother.
Why in the name of all that’s holy am I seeing his face now? Why is he the one superimposed over my mate as I lie here bleeding to death?
Though…
They don’t really look like twins. They’re almosttoosimilar. Like they’re the same person.
Ridge, focus.
It’s Teddie’s voice now, clear and calm, cutting through Brylee’s desperate pleas. It makes no sense. My yearning, my entire being, is for Brylee. My mate. The other half of my soul. The thought of her suffering, of what they might be doing to her, is a physical agony that dwarfs the hole in my gut.
So why is Teddie here? His blue eyes seem to know me, to hold a depth of understanding that feels…intimate.
It’s wrong.
It’s a betrayal, even in my own mind.
But…
Those eyes are Brylee’s in Teddie’s face. Those arehercheekbones. Her pouty lips.
I’m fucking losing it.
"Ridge! Don't you fucking dare!" Kylian’s roar this time, closer, angrier. "Colter, get the chopper on the line again! Now!"
I force my eyes open. The world swims back into focus, sharp and painful.
Luka is still leaning over me, his face pale and streaked with sweat and grime.
"We have to move him," Luka is saying, his voice tight with panic. "We can't stay here."
"Brylee…" I manage to croak, the word tearing from my throat. "Find…her."
My vision blurs again, and the darkness pulls me under. I’m back in that warm, painless place. But this time, it’s not Brylee waiting for me. It’s Teddie. He’s just watching me, his head tilted, a sad, knowing smile on his lips. He’s not urging me to fight. He’s just…there. An observer. A ghost in my final moments.
The confusion is a new kind of torment, sharper than the pain. It feels like a betrayal of Brylee, of the sacred bond we share. My dying mind should be filled with her, only her. Our shared memories, our promises, our future.
Instead, it’s haunted by the quiet, steady presence of a man who is practically a stranger. A man who I barely even tolerate, let alone like. A man who, for some reason I can’t begin to fathom, feels as important as my own mate.
“Come on, Ridge! Stay with us!” Luka’s voice is a deep, steady rumble. “We're not leaving you here.”
The pressure on my wound shifts as they try to lift me. A fresh wave of agony washes over me, and this time, the darknessdoesn't just pull—it yanks. I’m falling, spiraling away from the sounds of my brothers, away from the pain.
