The challenge sits between us, and for a heartbeat I feel the old pull. The need to prove myself. To show I'm not weak or scared or broken. To demonstrate I can finish what I start.
Then I look past Derek toward the compound where torches burn in the stone circle. Where Jonah's brothers prepare for a ritual that could save him or kill us both. Where a man who fought through six months of hell to get home waits for me to choose him.
"I'm not running away," I say quietly. "I'm choosing to stay. There's a difference."
"Is there?" Derek's voice hardens. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks exactly the same." He holds my gaze for another moment, then sighs. "Fine. Waste your life in the woods if that's what you want. But when this falls apart—and it will—don't call me. I'm done trying to save you from yourself."
He turns toward his rental car, movements sharp with frustration. Pauses with his hand on the door.
"You're better than this, Maren. I thought you knew that."
Then he's in the car, engine starting, pulling away down the dirt road in a spray of gravel and dust.
I stand there watching him go, his words echoing in my head. Running away. Just like you always do when things get hard.
My throat constricts.
Because he's not entirely wrong. I have run before. I've left jobs, relationships, opportunities because staying meant riskingbeing hurt. Staying meant being vulnerable. Staying meant potentially losing something I cared about.
But this time is different.
Isn't it?
I'm not leaving. I'm staying. I'm choosing the bonding ritual even knowing it could kill me. That's not running. That's commitment.
Except Derek's voice whispers in the back of my mind: You're running away from your old life, your career, everything you worked for. Just hiding in the woods with people who don't know the real you.
"No," I say out loud to the empty space where Derek's car was. "That's not what this is."
But my hands shake as I turn back toward the compound.
I need to see Jonah. Need to feel the bond between us. Need the reassurance that this is real, that I'm making the right choice, that staying is different from running.
Except when I reach the compound, Jonah is nowhere in sight.
Eli is carrying herbs toward the stone circle. I catch his arm. "Where's Jonah?"
"He took off about twenty minutes ago." Eli sets down the herbs, frowning. "Said he needed to clear his head before the ritual. Probably went to the old ranger cabin. That's where he goes when he needs to think."
The old ranger cabin. Where we went that first day.
"Thanks."
I head into the forest, following the path I walked that first day when everything was new and strange and terrifying. When I'd found a man collapsed in a clearing and watched him transform into a bear to protect me from shadow creatures.
The cabin appears through the trees, weathered wood and overgrown surroundings exactly as I remember. The door stands half-open.
I push it wider. "Jonah?"
He's sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, head tilted back, eyes closed. For a moment I just look at him—this man who fought through hell to get home, who carries corruption in his veins, who looked at me and saw his mate.
"I know you're there," he says without opening his eyes.
"Then why aren't you looking at me?"
His jaw tightens. "Because if I look at you, I'm going to tell you not to do this. And that's not my choice to make."
I step inside, closing the distance between us. "Jonah?—"
