Casteel struggled to his feet, his legs shaking from exhaustion and the aftermath of violence.
"We have to go," Nero said, scooping Casteel up despite his protests. "Now."
Nero ran with inhuman speed, his enhanced senses guiding him through obstacles that would have been invisible to ordinary sight. Behind them, Casteel caught glimpses of Eryken and Lucan breaking away in different directions—a tactical decision to split their pursuers. The forest erupted around them as the main Silver Guard force crashed through the undergrowth, their war cries echoing between the trees.
"Put me down," Casteel gasped as branches whipped past his face. "I'm slowing you—"
"Never," Nero growled, his arms tightening around Casteel's body. Through their bond came a pulse of fierce determination. "I won't lose you. Not after what you sacrificed."
But he didn’t want Nero to save him out of some sense of gratitude.He wanted him to save him because he couldn’t live without him.
Shame curled in him at the selfish thought.
They burst through a curtain of hanging moss into a small clearing, where Nero paused to listen with wolf-enhanced hearing. The pursuit had fragmented—some guards following Eryken's trail to the east, others chasing Lucan toward higher ground. But at least a dozen were still tracking them, their horses crashing through the forest like a thunderstorm.
"I can sense a stream ahead," Nero said, adjusting his grip on Casteel. "If we can reach it, the water might mask our scent, even if there are shifters.”
They plunged deeper into the forest, following deer paths that twisted between ancient oaks and towering pines. The stream, when they reached it, was broader than expected—perhaps thirty feet across, running fast and cold with snowmelt from the northern mountains.
"Can you swim?" Nero asked, setting Casteel down at the water's edge.
"Not well," Casteel admitted, staring at the rushing current with trepidation.
Nero didn't hesitate. He stripped off his outer clothes, bundling them with their few possessions into a makeshift pack that he could carry above the water. "Hold onto me. Don't let go no matter what happens."
The water was shockingly cold, stealing Casteel's breath as they waded in. Nero's enhanced strength served them well—he let the current take them downstream while supporting Casteel's weight, then guiding them across to the far bank with powerful strokes.
They emerged dripping and shivering, but the sound of pursuit had faded behind them. The Silver Guard would lose precious time searching for their trail, giving them a chance to put real distance between themselves and their hunters.
"We need to keep moving," Nero said, helping Casteel squeeze water from his clothes. "Find shelter before nightfall."
Casteel nodded, teeth chattering as he pulled his sodden shirt closer. Without the wolf's heat, the cold bit deeper than he remembered, seeping into his bones with merciless efficiency. Had it been the wolf that had protected him without him even realizing? He'd never been one to feel the cold.
He felt Nero's concern flickering like a distant candle. His mate moved with predatory grace, scanning their surroundings with senses now heightened beyond anything Casteel had ever managed to achieve. The silver wolf had found a more natural home in Nero's battle-honed body than it ever had in his.
"There's a ridge to the north," Nero said, his head tilted as he listened to sounds Casteel could no longer perceive. "Might offer caves, shelter from the elements." His gaze softened as it returned to Casteel. "And you need to get warm before hypothermia sets in."
The journey through the forest was a blur of exhaustion for Casteel. Without the wolf's endurance, his muscles burned with each step, his lungs laboring in the thin mountain air. Twice he stumbled, and twice Nero was there instantly, supporting him with a strength that seemed effortless.
"I will carry you," Nero determined after the third stumble left Casteel gasping against a tree trunk.
"No," Casteel insisted, though his legs trembled beneath him. "I need to do this. I need to know what I am now."
Understanding flickered across Nero's face. Through their bond came a pulse of respect. He didn't argue further, simply stayed close as they continued their ascent toward the ridgeline.
The sun was sinking toward the western peaks when they finally reached a suitable shelter—a shallow cave set into the rocky hillside, its entrance partially concealed by tangled brambles. Nero cleared the opening with swift efficiency, then disappeared briefly to gather firewood while Casteel huddled against the stone wall, trying to ignore how his body ached from the unaccustomed exertion.
"Our pursuers have veered east," Nero reported when he returned, arms laden with dry branches. "Following false trails Eryken will have left. We should be safe for the night."
Casteel watched as Nero built a small fire with practiced ease. The flames cast flickering shadows across his mate's features, highlighting the subtle changes the wolf-soul had wrought. Nero had always moved with a fighter's precision, but now there was something else in his movements, a fluid grace that seemed almost supernatural. His eyes caught the firelight with an occasional silver gleam, and his reactions had become preternaturally swift.
"How does it feel?" Casteel asked quietly as Nero settled beside him. "The wolf."
Nero was silent for a long moment, his expression troubled. "Powerful," he finally admitted. "Like I could run for days without tiring. Like I could tear through stone with my bare hands." He met Casteel's gaze directly. "But wrong. It doesn't belong to me."
"It does," Casteel said. It belonged in Nero far more than it ever had done in him. The wolf enhanced Nero's gifts. In Casteel he struggled to become something he wasn't.
Nero reached for him, his calloused hand finding Casteel's in the firelight. "I never wanted this. If I'd been conscious, I would have stopped you."
