Page 107 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

"Run!" He shouted at me.

I didn't run.

I scrambled up, grabbed a rock from the ground, and hurled it at Leah's head.

She screamed, staggered, but kept her grip on the dagger. She whirled around, eyes blazing with madness, and charged at me.

"You bitch!"

We grappled. Her strength surprised me—five years of hardship hadn't weakened her. Her nails raked my arm, leaving bloody trails. I grabbed her hair and slammed her against the wall. She shrieked and swung the dagger at me.

The blade sliced my shoulder, searing pain nearly making me let go.

But then, Zane lunged from behind, trying to wrench away her dagger.

Then I saw a flash.

Not torchlight. The magical runes on the blade activating—blue, cold, emanating death.

"No!"

Zane threw himself in front of me.

The dagger plunged into his chest.

Time froze. I watched the blade sink into his chest, watched blood pour from the wound, staining his shirt crimson. I watched his eyes—those gray-blue eyes—widen, lips parting as if to speak.

Then all three of us lost balance and tumbled toward the cave's edge.

There was a slope—steep, moss-covered, leading into endless darkness. My body tumbled over rocks and dirt, shoulder slamming stone, knee hitting sharp ridges, pain electric through my body. I heard Leah's screams echoing in darkness, heard rocks falling, heard my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.

Then, my hand caught something.

A branch. Thick, protruding from the rock face.

My body jerked to a halt, arm nearly dislocating. I dangled in midair, feet over bottomless darkness. Rocks tumbled past me, taking several seconds to hit bottom—deep. This cave was very deep.

I looked up. Zane hung not far above me. His body clung to the wall, one hand gripping a jutting rock, the other pressed to his chest wound. Blood seeped between his fingers, starkly vivid in the dim light.

"Zane—" My voice barely audible.

He looked down at me.

Even in darkness, I saw that faint smile on his lips.

"You're...okay..." he said, voice broken, like each word drained him.

"Shut up," I said, voice shaking. "Don't talk. Save your strength."

I scanned around for footholds. The rock face had many jutting stones and vines, forming a natural ladder descending to a barely visible platform—maybe forty feet down. If we were careful, we could climb down.

"Can you move?" I asked.

He nodded, but the motion was labored.

"Follow me. One step at a time. Don't rush."

I began climbing down. Fingers dug into rock crevices, toes finding every foothold. Rocks crumbled and fell, making small clatter. My shoulder ached, arms trembled, but I didn't stop.