Page 11 of Conall (The Sunburst Pack #3)

No, she didn’t. The words surprised them both. She saved my life. Led those operatives away, and I’m pretty sure she took a bullet doing it.

After accusing us of murder!

After someone else tried to kill us both. Conall met his gaze directly. Think about it, Quin. Why would Chimera target both of us if she was working with them?

Uncertainty flickered across Quinton’s features. The logical holes in Nadine’s accusations had been bothering him too.

Even if she’s not Chimera, he said slowly, that doesn’t make her safe. The mate bond could be affecting your judgment.

My judgment is fine. But even as Conall said it, he wasn’t sure it was true. The pull toward her had been growing stronger by the hour, clouding any rational thought with a desperate need.

Then why are you about to go chasing after a woman who wants you dead?

Because I need to know the truth. About her father, about the accusations. About this impossible connection that was turning his world upside down.

Fine. Then I’m coming with you.

No. The refusal was automatic. This is something I have to do alone.

Quinton’s expression shifted to hurt, then anger. That’s not how we work.

This is different.

Because of the mate bond.

Yes. Conall couldn’t deny it anymore. Because of the mate bond.

For the first time in their lives, the twin connection that had defined them felt secondary to something else. The realization terrified Conall.

This is going to destroy us, Quinton said quietly.

No, it’s not. But Conall wasn’t sure he believed his own assertion.

He left Quinton standing in their apartment. His twin’s shock and hurt radiated through their connection.

Each step away from Quinton felt like betrayal. But Conall’s attraction to Nadine—the pull he felt toward her—was stronger than anything he had ever experienced.

That pull drew him eastward, outside of town—beyond the security perimeter.

His wolf form emerged as he shifted seamlessly, dark brown fur melting into the desert shadows. The scent trail grew stronger with each stride—definitely her, definitely close.

He found her scent concentrated near the abandoned miner’s cabin, faint but unmistakable.

She’d been here recently. Very recently.

But as he circled the area, searching for a more current sign of her presence, he began to doubt himself. Was he following an actual trail or just wishful thinking? The mate bond made everything about her seem more intense. More immediate.

Maybe Quinton was right. Maybe this is just the mate bond affecting my judgment .

Then the wind shifted.

There it was—her scent, fresh and real and utterly unmistakable, with undertones of healing herbs and something darker, a scent like silver and pain.

She was hurt.

His protective instincts flared at the realization, despite everything logical telling him she was his enemy.

She’s not your enemy , his wolf insisted. She’s our mate. We must protect our mate .

But she thought he’d killed her father. That made them enemies, regardless of what biology dictated.

Didn’t it?

Conall shifted back to his human form, standing naked in the desert moonlight, torn between approaching and retreating. The smart thing would be to go back, report her location to Anders. Let the pack handle this professionally.

Instead, he took a step toward where her scent was strongest.

Then another.

The scent trail led him deeper into the desert. Every step forward sent electricity juddering through his veins.

His bare feet found purchase on rough stone as he navigated the terrain, following her essence like a bloodhound.

She was close. So close he could taste the mountain snow on the night air.

That was when he saw her.

Nadine emerged from behind a cluster of boulders, moving with that grace that had caught his attention in the ravine. But something was wrong. She favored her left leg slightly, and there was a tension in her shoulders that spoke of pain being suppressed.

Injured. The protective instinct flared so hard it nearly doubled him over.

He’d been right. She’d been hit with silver, had taken a bullet for him.

Their eyes met across thirty feet of desert sand, that catch in her breathing he remembered from before hitching in her chest.

The mate bond exploded between them—a surge of recognition so intense it stole his breath.

You, she breathed, and even from this distance he caught the smoke-and-whiskey rasp of her voice.

We need to talk, Conall called out, taking a careful step forward.

That was when the world exploded.

Tranquilizer darts whistled through the air.

One caught him in the shoulder—the same damn shoulder as before. Fire spread through muscle and bone as the specialized cocktail hit his bloodstream.

Nadine spun, dropping into a combat crouch as figures emerged from concealment all around them. Six. Maybe eight. Moving with military precision that screamed professional operation.

Chimera again? Someone who’d been watching, at least. Waiting.

Run! Nadine shouted, but her voice already sounded distant as the tranquilizer took hold of his mind.

She tried. God, she tried to fight them off despite whatever injury she was nursing. Her movements were liquid violence—strikes and kicks delivered with surgical precision.

But there were too many of them, and she was already compromised.

A dart found her thigh. Then another in her back.

Conall watched her stumble, watched the fight drain from her limbs as the drugs took hold. His own vision grayed at the edges. The desert tilted sideways.

Quinton , he thought desperately. He should know something’s wrong .

But his awareness of the world around him slipped away before he could focus enough to send a distress signal through their connection.