Page 32 of The Fated Hunter Wolf

Because if Logan was right, if that sensation in my chest, that desperate need to get to her, that feeling like something was trying to rip me apart from the inside… if all of that was because she was myfated mate…

“Rhys.” Logan’s voice was careful, measured. “I know this is a lot to take in, but?—”

I was already moving.

The door slammed against the wall as I burst through it, Logan’s words dissolving into background noise. My wolf had heard everything he needed to hear.Mine. Mate. Claim.

The sensation that had been torturing me for the last hour suddenly made perfect sense. If she was my fated mate, then what I felt wasn’t a spell she cast on me. The torment from the bond was like the others I’d felt in the pack, but on steroids. Shehad to be in distress, and the instincts I still felt screaming in me… they were telling me to get to her.

“Rhys!” Logan’s voice followed me. I was already halfway across the main room when Kenza cursed and Raina took in a sharp breath.

I burst through the front door and onto the village streets, my feet hitting the dirt path at a dead run. The night air hit my lungs in sharp bursts as I sprinted toward the far side of town where they’d put her up.

Too far. She’s too far away.

A group of wolves emerged from between two half-built structures, their voices rising in greeting. Marcus, one of the construction leads, moved directly into my path.

“Rhys! Perfect timing. We need to talk about the foundation work on the old?—”

I didn’t slow down. My shoulder caught him square in the chest, sending him flying backward into a stack of lumber. The crash echoed through the street, wood scattering like matchsticks.

“Rhys!” someone shouted. I was already past them.

Two more wolves tried to intercept me—Philip and Cole, both carrying blueprints and looking determined to corner me about some building project. I could see their mouths moving, could hear the distant sound of their voices, but the roaring in my ears drowned out everything except the pulse beating against my ribs.

Get to her. Now.

Philip reached out. My hand connected with his chest against my will, and he went airborne. He hit the side of a building with a sickening thud, sliding down the wooden planks to land in a heap.

“What the hell—” Cole started, but I was already moving again.

Behind me, Logan was apologizing, explaining something or making excuses. I couldn’t focus on his words, couldn’t slow down to apologize or explain. The pulling in my chest had turned urgent and terrifying. My skin crawled with the need to move faster.

A sharp pain tore across my ribs, and I looked down to see dark stains spreading across my shirt. The wounds from our little forest encounter had reopened, blood seeping through the fabric with each pounding step.

I didn’t give a shit.

The cabin came into view, a single light glowing in the window. Blair and Killian were stationed outside, their postures alert but relaxed. They straightened when they saw me approaching at full speed, their hands moving instinctively toward their weapons.

“Beta,” Blair called out, stepping into my path. “Everything alright?”

I didn’t slow down. I hit the porch steps at a sprint and drove my shoulder into the front door. The wood splintered, hinges screaming in protest as the door exploded inward.

And then I saw her.

Sable was curled on the couch like a broken bird, her body folded in on itself. The girl—Astrid—had her arms around her, rocking and whispering to her.

My wolf lost his damn mind.

Mate. Hurt. Fix it. NOW.

Every rational thought went straight out the fucking window. She was in pain, and I was the only bastard who could make it stop. The bond between us was screaming bloody murder, demanding I claim her, mark her, make her mine so whatever was shredding her apart would end.

I crossed the room in three long strides and shoved Astrid aside. The girl slipped away like smoke, melting into the shadows.

Then I had Sable in my arms.

She was pale as death. Marble-white, translucent enough that I could see delicate blue veins threading under her skin. Her lips, which had been full and pink when I’d tackled her in the woods, were now almost white.