“Take her,” I say. “And go.”
Creed jerks his head. Two operatives approach Dr. Fell. They lift her between them, eyes darting between Rafael and me. She’s conscious. Twitching. Blood soaking through what’s left of her suit. No clever words now, just gasping sobs.
They load her into the SUV. Creed gets in. Doors close.
Three vehicles. Three sets of taillights. They pull back, turn, head down the mountain. Creed doesn’t speed up. Running invites pursuit.
We have no intention of giving chase. The sooner they’re out of sight, the better.
The taillights round a curve. Disappear.
I stand on the empty road. Naked. Bloody. Wind cutting through me.
Rafael is at the van. He opens the passenger door, takes the blanket, and walks to me. He wraps it around my shoulders. His hands are steady. The claws are gone.
I look up at him. The shift is settling. The power hums low. His eyes are clear.
“She was just a person,” he says. “Under everything. Just a person.”
“Yes.”
“Weak.”
“Yes.”
I climb behind the wheel. He takes the passenger seat. The engine is still running.
I pull around the dark patch of blood on the road where Dr. Fell was lying and point the van down the mountain.
We drive in silence. The heater pushes warm air against my bare skin under the blanket. The road hums.
“You destroyed her,” he says.
“I hurt her. She’ll live.”
His hand finds mine on the console. His thumb moves against my knuckles.
“I saw it,” he says. “When you hit her. She turned. Her face…she didn’t understand. She never thought you’d do it.”
“She never thought I was a threat.”
His hand tightens on mine. A full minute before he speaks.
“You’re incredible,” he murmurs.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” I manage a small smile.
“I would,” he says. He’s silent again, then eventually, “Mine.” Quiet. Not from the wolf’s place this time. The man. “You’re my mate.”
“Yes,” I say. Eyes on the road. “I am.”
I drive until the sky turns gray and the mountains open into a valley I don’t recognize. The blood on my mouth has dried. The blanket has slipped off one shoulder. My hands are steady on the wheel.
Ahead of us: a road I’ve never driven. Behind us: everything we’ve left. The woman who’ll rebuild herself into something new when the surgeons are done with her.
She’ll come back. Different. Scarred. But she’ll come back.
But we’ll be ready.
