“You’re going to leave me here?” he asks.
I glance down at him.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I say.
“That’s not what I asked.”
I release him just enough to reposition, locking his arm behind him instead so he can’t follow immediately.
“I’m done talking,” I say.
Felix laughs once, low.
“You’re already behind,” he says.
I don’t answer that. Because I don’t need to. I stand fully, releasing the final pressure of the hold but keeping him pinned where he is. He tries once more to shift, but I shove him back down hard enough that the effort stops immediately.
“Stay,” I say.
Then I turn. The forest feels different now. Heavier. Not because of Felix. Because of what he confirmed. Damon isn’t the end of this. He was never meant to be. I start moving back toward the treeline faster now, urgency sharpening every step. Behind me, Felix calls out once.
“You’re going the wrong way!”
I don’t slow.
“Doesn’t matter,” I call back.
Because I’ve already made my decision. Redwood Crossing doesn’t fall while I’m still breathing. But now I understand the second truth beneath that: Someone else is trying to make sure I’m not there when it matters. And that means this fight just changed. Completely.
I break into a run toward the deeper forest, cutting through branches and uneven ground as the shape of the battle reorganizes itself in my mind. Damon isn’t the endpoint. He’s the anchor point. The one keeping my attention fixed here. While something else moves through the spaces I’ve just left exposed.
I don’t like how far ahead they might already be.
Northwest ridge. Damon. Waiting. Behind me, I hear Felix shift slightly, testing the pain I’ve left him in. He won’t get up. Not quickly. Not before I’m gone. Good.
I don’t spare him another glance. I don’t need to. He’s done his part. Now it’s time for me to do mine. I step away from the clearing, back into the trees, my focus narrowing to a single point.
End this. Not later. Not after another wave. Now.
The forest seems to close in around me as I move deeper, the path ahead darker, quieter. More dangerous. Good. That’s exactly where I need to be. Behind me, Redwood Crossing holds the line. In front of me, Damon waits. And this time?—
I’m not turning back until one of us doesn’t walk away.
35
TESSA
The door crashes open and Archer is there, filling the frame, blood on his shirt and wildness in his eyes. I run to him before I can think, my hands searching his body for wounds, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"You're hurt," I say, touching a gash on his arm, but he catches my wrist.
"Not my blood." His voice is rough, strained, and I can feel him through the bond—rage and fear and something desperate clawing at his control. "Damon's nearby. The rogues are pushing toward the eastern ridge. I came to make sure you were safe before I?—"
"Before you what?" I grip his shirt, pulling him fully inside, slamming the door behind him. The cabin feels too small suddenly, the walls thin, the sounds of distant howls and crashes bleeding through from the forest beyond. "Before you go face him alone? Before you get yourself killed?"
Archer's hands frame my face, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones. "I have to end this, Tessa. Tonight. He's targeting you specifically now—he knows you're my mate. I can't let him?—"
"Look at me," I interrupt, my voice shaking. I force him to meet my eyes, to see me. Really see me. "I knew what I was getting into when I stayed. When I chose you. And I choose you again, Archer. Every time. But I need you to know—I believe in you. Not just as my mate, but as the man who protects this town. Who protects all of us."
