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He was here.

She crawled closer. The mysterious sire lay stretched out along one wall, badly burned. Blisters covered much of his exposed skin, raw and weeping where the sun had claimed its toll. His sharp features were twisted in pain, face gaunt and the color of clay. He was still strikingly beautiful in his ruin.

Gina reached for him, intending to ensure he was alert for the interrogation she had planned. She needed answers. She needed to know why he’d created so many reckless ferals, what his game was.

But as her fingers brushed his arm, his eyes fluttered open—brilliant, pained, and strangely resigned. For a single heartbeat, their gazes locked.

Then his body convulsed once.

A final, rattling breath escaped him.

“No—” Gina snarled.

Too late.

The sun had earned another victim.

As his essence unraveled, she felt it—the sudden, heavy transfer of his whelps finding her close and locking onto her like iron chains. A half dozen fractured connections slammed into her mind, desperate and demanding. The weight of new responsibility crashed down, anchoring her more firmly to this existence than she had ever intended.

Gina threw her head back and howled in pure, furious anger. That kind of connection would keep her from the sun far longer than she had planned. Far longer than she wanted.

***

Mathias

Mathias was deep in the cave, Carson still curled warm and trusting against his chest. The distant scream—raw, furious, and unmistakably Gina’s—sliced through stone and shadow like a silver blade.

He reached instinctively down the old, frayed thread that still bound him to his dam.

The weight hit him like a physical blow.

She’d just inherited a handful of whelps from an unknown sire. It had happened because she was the only dam within a hundred miles, a situation where proximity was against her. The burden of new, unstable lives now rested heavy on Gina’s weary shoulders.

Mathias exhaled slowly, the sound rough in the quiet cave.

Gods, will she rise to the occasion? he wondered. Or will this finally be what drives her straight into the sun’s waiting arms?

He tightened his hold on Carson, pressing a cool kiss to the top of his head. The warmth of his soul mate grounded him even as uncertainty spread like cracks through the remains of their old camp.

The reckoning was far from over.

***

They remained in the cave long after the last sounds of pursuit faded.

Carson slept fitfully against Mathias’ chest, his back still raw from the burns he had taken while shielding him. Mathias kept one hand spread protectively over the damaged skin, feeding small pulses of shared strength through the bond while his own blisters continued to heal. The air smelled of blood, scorched flesh, and damp stone.

Zeke was gone.

He kept replaying the final moments—Zeke’s voice cutting through the chaos, the silver blade meant for Mathias driving into his friend’s body instead, the way the ferals had swarmed him in an effort to reach the deeply shadowed trees. Decades of quiet loyalty ended in a single, brutal choice.

Carson stirred, wincing as he shifted. “You’re thinking about him.”

“Yes.” Mathias’ voice was rough. “He knew what he was doing. He told me once, gave an oath that when the time came, he would buy me the time I needed.” The memory of that quiet promise on the warehouse catwalk rose sharp and painful. “He kept it.”

Carson’s hand found his, warm fingers curling around cooler ones. “I’m sorry.”

They sat in silence for a while, the bond carrying shared grief between them.