Page 158 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

For a moment, nothing changed.

Then—

A flicker along that thread. Faint. Like someone reaching back from the other side of a vast distance. Something responding to my call.

His fingers twitched again. This time, they kept moving, curling slightly as if reaching for something.

“That’s it,” I breathed, pressing closer. “I’m right here. Can you feel me? I can feel you, Kit. Follow that feeling back.”

Kit’s breathing hitched, chest heaving as if he’d been drowning. His body remained rigid, muscles locked in violent tension, but something was changing. The thread between us strengthened incrementally—still fragile, still incomplete, but growing more substantial with each passing second.

“He’s fighting it!” Isla’s voice sounded distant. “Felix, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it!”

I had no idea what I was doing. Only that this thread seemed to give Kit something to grasp onto. An anchor point in whatever neural hell he was experiencing.

“Keep fighting,” I said. “I can feel you. You’re there.”

The thread pulsed harder. Insistent now. Demanding.

“That’s it. Keep coming back. Follow this thing between us.” I pressed my forehead harder against his. “You’re stronger than whatever they put in your head. We’re stronger.”

Kit’s spine arched off the concrete, every muscle straining. A low, agonised sound tore from his throat—half-human, half-wolf. The wolves responded instantly, their howls rising to a crescendo that echoed through the facility.

The thread between us sang. Not complete. Not yet. Somehow I knew that. But present. Undeniable. Pulling taut as Kit fought his way back along it.

Then, the miracle occurred.

His fingers found my face, grip trembling but deliberate. His eyes peeled open. Unfocused at first, struggling to track. Then they landed on me and sharpened.

“Dalamjwi,” he whispered, voice wrecked.

Behind us came a choked sob. Rory.

I screwed up my face, trying to hide how close I was to crying myself. “I thought we agreed not to go with squirrel.”

Kit’s mouth curved into the smallest smile, his thumb tracing shakily across my cheekbone. “Min-jun. My Min-jun. My Felix.”

The relief nearly knocked me sideways. He was back. He was mine. I interlaced our fingers, my eyes never leaving his as I said, “I love you.”

Kit’s expression softened, grey eyes bright despite the pain etched across his features. “Sweetheart, I have always loved you.”

My heart skipped several beats. I already knew Kit loved me. It was obvious in the way he looked at me. In the way his hand constantly sought out mine when we walked. How he subconsciously positioned himself between me and the rest of the world. But to hear him say it, when I thought I might never see him again? It rewrote something fundamental inside me.

I kissed him, soft and careful and full of promises, then pulled back just enough to see his face properly. To memorise this moment—the way his grey eyes shone bright despite the darkness around us, despite everything. Despite the blood still seeping from his neck, the bruises blooming across his jaw, the tremor in his hands from whatever that chip had done to him.

“Can you feel it?” I asked. “The… the thing? The bond?”

“Yes,” he said, lips curving up into a smile. “Yes, Felix. I can feel it.”

I ached with how much I wanted to stay like this. Just the two of us, suspended in this fragile bubble where nothing else mattered. But then Kit’s hand tightened around mine, and reality came crashing back in. He pushed himself upright slowly, wincing. His movements were careful, controlled—the way someone moved when they were hurt worse than they wanted to admit.

The wolves immediately focused on him, their restless pacing slowing.

“I need to shift,” he said quietly.

Pure panic shot through me. “No! You just came back! You’re bleeding, you’ve been drugged, you had a seizure. What if shifting makes it worse?”

“It won’t.” His voice was steady, certain. “Shifting will heal me. My wolf… it’s far stronger than this human body right now.”