Page 8 of Conall (The Sunburst Pack #3)

N ADINE WOKE TO DARKNESS and the taste of copper in her mouth.

Silver burned like acid in her veins.

For one disorienting moment, she didn’t know where she was. Then memory crashed back—the chase, the tactical team, the bullet.

Conall Stewart.

Pain lanced through her leg as she shifted position, the silver wound throbbing with unnatural heat. The shallow cave she’d crawled into sometime during the night offered minimal protection—just enough to keep predators at bay while she’d surrendered to exhaustion.

Sweat slicked her skin despite the predawn chill. Silver fever, getting worse.

Damn it, she growled, her voice rough from thirst.

She forced herself upright, ignoring the wave of nausea that followed.

Weak light filtered through the cave entrance, just enough for her to examine the wound. The angry red gash across her hip and thigh had developed silver-blue lines extending outward like lightning strikes beneath her skin.

Classic silver poisoning.

Nadine pressed a hand to her forehead. Burning up.

She’d die here if she didn’t get to her supplies.

Killed protecting a man who might have murdered my father .

At the thought, she gave a soft, harsh laugh, jagged as broken glass.

She crawled to the entrance of the cave, her muscles screaming in protest.

Outside, the desert landscape stretched before her, bathed in the soft pink glow of dawn. Her stash was close—hidden in a rock formation that resembled a sleeping coyote.

Still, Gregory Torrance’s daughter wasn’t going down because of a Sunburst wolf and a graze from a silver bullet.

She’d endured worse.

Nadine shifted forms, gritting her teeth as the transformation pulled at the damaged tissue.

The wound looked worse in wolf form, silver particles glittering hideously in the torn flesh. She’d need to shift back to human to treat it properly, but for now, four legs would carry her faster than two.

She limped through the scrubland, each step a fresh jolt of agony. The desert’s scents assaulted her sensitive nose—creosote, rabbit, coyote. And something else that shouldn’t be there.

Cedar and sage. Desert air and sunshine.

Him .

The mate bond thrummed beneath her skin, a constant, unwelcome reminder of the connection she’d neither asked for nor wanted. It pulled her westward—toward Sunburst territory. Toward Conall.

No , she snarled, the word coming out as a low growl in her wolf form.

She deliberately turned northeast, fighting both the pain and the insistent tug of the bond.

Silver poisoning was the more immediate threat. She could deal with unwanted mate connections later.

After thirty agonizing minutes, the coyote rock formation appeared on the horizon. Nadine pushed herself harder, ignoring the blood that matted her fur where the wound had reopened. Almost there.

Her cache was exactly where she’d left it—a weatherproof pack wedged into a crevice beneath the rock formation, camouflaged with desert debris. Getting to it required shifting back.

The transformation back to human felt like being flayed alive.

Nadine bit her lip until it bled, refusing to cry out. Weakness was unacceptable.

Her fingers, clumsy with fever, fumbled with the pack’s zipper. When it finally opened, she could have wept with relief.

Medical supplies. Water.

Everything she needed to survive.

She uncapped a water bottle with shaking hands and drank deeply, the lukewarm liquid like heaven against her parched throat.

Then she turned her attention to the medical supplies.

First, extraction tools for the silver fragments. Then antiseptic. Healing herbs. Bandages.

The silver extraction was going to hurt like hell.

Nadine positioned herself with her back against the rock, leg stretched out before her. The specialized tweezers glinted in the morning light.

Let’s get this over with, she muttered.

She probed the wound, clenching her jaw as the tweezers connected with the first silver fragment. The contact sent electricity shooting up her leg.

With surgical precision despite her fever, she extracted the sliver of metal, dropping it onto a cloth beside her.

One down. Who knew how many to go.

As she worked, her thoughts circled back to the events that had brought her here. To Conall Stewart. To the Sunburst Pack that had destroyed her life.

They killed him. Exiled him first, then hunted him down like an animal .

Her father’s voice echoed in her memory. If anything happens to me, don’t trust Sunburst. Especially the twins.

Gregory Torrance had been Vincent’s right hand, his enforcer. When Sunburst’s leadership changed—when these so-called coalphas took charge—they’d cast out anyone loyal to the old regime.

Her father had been the first to go.

Nadine extracted another silver fragment, larger than the first. A hiss escaped through clenched teeth.

This is your fault, Stewart, she growled, as if he could hear her.

She’d been building her case. Tracking movements. Gathering intelligence. Planning her revenge.

Then in one moment, one single moment of eye contact in that ravine, the universe had decided to play the cruelest joke imaginable.

Mate .

To Conall Stewart.

To the man who may have killed her father.

Bile rose in her throat, and this time it wasn’t from the silver fever.

The bond doesn’t matter. It changes nothing .

She gritted her teeth and went back to work.

Another fragment extracted. Blood and clear fluid wept from the wound.

Shut up, she muttered to herself, to her wolf. Mate bonds are basic biology. Nothing more.

But they had protected each other.

Why?

The question burned hotter than the silver in her blood. She’d risked everything to lead those operatives away from his unconscious form. Had taken a bullet for her efforts.

I need him alive to question him .

But that wasn’t the whole truth. Something deeper had driven her actions—something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

After almost an hour of meticulous work, Nadine had extracted all the silver fragments she could locate. The wound continued to weep, but the unnatural heat had diminished slightly. She poured antiseptic over the area, welcoming the searing pain as distraction from her thoughts.

Next came the poultice of healing herbs—wolf’s bane and echinacea, mixed with a proprietary blend her father had developed specifically for silver wounds.

The earthy scent brought another wave of grief.

He’d taught her everything about survival, about treating injuries that would kill most shifters.

And now he was gone.

Nadine wrapped the wound with bandages, her movements precise despite her exhaustion. When she finished, she leaned back against the rock, taking inventory of her situation.

The silver poisoning wasn’t completely neutralized, but she’d bought herself time. The fever would linger for days, the wound healing far slower than a normal injury.

She needed rest. Safety.

Neither of which she could find within fifty miles of Sunburst territory.

Yet attempting to travel in her condition would be suicide.

That team might still be searching for her, for one thing. And without her full strength, she’d be easy prey for any threat—human or otherwise.

Fuck.

The realization settled like a stone in her stomach. She was trapped here, on the periphery of Sunburst Pack territory, until she healed enough to travel.

Nadine rummaged through her pack, reassessing her supplies.

Enough food and water for three days if she rationed. Basic camping equipment. Weapons—including a silver-loaded pistol similar to what the tactical team had used.

She needed a more secure location. The coyote rock offered minimal protection. Too exposed. Too vulnerable.

Memory flickered at the edge of her consciousness—her father’s voice again, quiet and urgent. There’s an old miner’s cabin on the eastern edge of Sunburst territory. Abandoned decades ago. Vincent’s patrols avoided it because of structural concerns. Could be useful someday.

She’d scouted it during her reconnaissance. Half-collapsed, forgotten by time. But the root cellar remained intact. Underground. Defensible. Close enough to Sunburst to continue her surveillance, far enough to avoid routine patrols.

Perfect .

Gathering her strength, Nadine packed her supplies and forced herself to stand. Her injured leg trembled but held. The walk would be brutal, but she could do it.

One step at a time. Survive. Then revenge .

By the time she set out, the sun’s heat beat down mercilessly on the desert landscape. In her weakened state, the journey to the miner’s cabin stretched endlessly, each step an exercise in pure stubborn will.

Her fevered mind slipped between past and present as she walked.

Her father teaching her to hunt. The shock when she’d learned of Vincent’s death and the Sunburst Pack’s change in leadership. Tracking Gregory’s movements after his exile.

And always, that final bloody scene. The evidence she’d found. The tracks leading back to Sunburst territory.

The Stewart twins are trackers. The best in the pack. Perfect for an assassination .

Yet yesterday’s encounter had left her doubting. Genuine surprise had flashed through Conall’s eyes when she’d accused him. And the way he’d protected her had been automatic, instinctive.

Could a cold-blooded killer fake that?

Maybe .

Could the mate bond be wrong?

Impossible .

The contradiction circled in her mind like prey she couldn’t quite catch.

Sometime in midafternoon, the abandoned cabin appeared on the horizon, shimmering like a mirage.

Nadine’s legs were leaden, her wound throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

The silver fever had intensified again, clouding her vision with dark spots.

She practically fell through the cabin’s sagging doorway, crawling the last few feet to the root cellar entrance. The wooden trapdoor protested as she pulled it open, revealing stone steps descending into blessed darkness.

Cool air wafted up from below, carrying the scent of earth and abandonment. Nadine dragged herself down the steps, collapsing on the packed dirt floor.

Safe .

For now .

Beneath her skin, deep inside where her wolf curled, the mate bond whirred steadily, an invisible compass pointing toward Sunburst.

Toward Conall.

I’ll find the truth, Stewart , she thought as she reached into her pack for a blanket to wrap around herself. And if you killed my father, I’ll kill you myself .

Mate bond be damned .