Page 50 of The Fated Hunter Wolf

The other two were on me before I could finish him off.

Fangs sank into my shoulder. Another set found my thigh. Pain exploded through my nervous system as their venom hit my bloodstream, designed to weaken shifters, to make us easy prey.

I fought anyway. Claws and teeth and desperate fury, fueled by the fire of the broken bond and the knowledge that if I died here, Sable would feel it. She’d know I’d failed her again.

The vampires snarled and hissed as I tore chunks from their flesh, but they kept coming. More wounds opened across my back, my arms. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision.

One of them latched onto my neck, fangs seeking the major artery, though he just missed. I grabbed him by the hair and hurled him into a tree, the bark splintering on impact.

The venom was spreading, turning my limbs to lead.

Deep within me—so faint I might have imagined it—I felt an echo of silver magic. A flicker of cold that had nothing to do with my failing body.

She was calling to me, and I didn’t know how to answer.

As I staggered, gasping, the tallest vampire circled me like a predator savoring the kill. My knees hit the dirt.

“Alpha blood always tastes sweeter when it’s desperate,” he purred, wiping my blood from his lips and coming straight for me.

20

SABLE

The taste of copper flooded my mouth before I was fully conscious.

Not my blood. His.

I bolted upright, silver magic crackling around my fingers like angry lightning. The underground chamber spun, but worse than the dizziness was the pain lancing through my ribs—deep enough to steal my breath, foreign enough to terrify me.

Thud-thud-pause-thud.

A heartbeat that wasn’t mine hammered against my sternum, irregular and weakening with each beat. My own heart lurched, trying to sync with the failing rhythm.

“Sable.” Astrid’s hands pressed me back against pillows that reeked of sweat. “You’ve been unconscious since yesterday. Your body…” She swallowed hard. “Your body kept moving. Fighting.”

“Fighting what?” Even as I asked, I knew. The phantom bond, that severed connection that should have been over, was still there. It was bleeding his agony into my veins drop by drop.

Another wave of pain hit—in this one, I felt ribs crack. I curled inward with a strangled gasp, copper flooding my mouth again. Not a taste this time. Blood painted my tongue withflavors that made my vampire nature stir hungrily. Wherever Rhys was, he was bleeding, right into me.

“This is impossible,” I panted, wiping crimson from my lips. “The bond was severed. I felt it shatter.”

“Maybe it was.” Astrid crouched beside the bed, her young face etched with worry that belonged on someone decades older. “Or maybe some things don’t break cleanly.”

Before I could process that, thunder rolled. It was boots hitting wood overhead, with military precision. Voices raised in sharp commands echoed down through the stone. I caught scents that made my wolf’s hackles rise.

Fear. Fury. And underneath it all, the sour tone of political maneuvering.

“Something’s wrong,” I said, forcing myself upright despite the way my stomach felt. “That’s not normal pack activity.”

We climbed up through the tunnel to find controlled chaos in the main area of the cabin. Orion wolves moved with purpose—some were cleaning weapons, others poring over maps, discussing options and possible traps.

Logan stood at the center of it all, his alpha presence strained to breaking. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usual control had frayed at the edges. When he noticed that we’d emerged from below, his jaw went tight.

“Where is Rhys?” I asked. The question came out rougher than I’d intended, my throat still raw like I’d been screaming in my sleep.

“I should be asking you that. He’s missing.” Logan’s voice carried the weight of an alpha watching his pack fracture. “Last night, border patrol found tracks leading into Blackwood territory.”

The phantom heartbeat in my chest stuttered, growing fainter. I pressed my hand to my sternum, feeling that foreign pulse fight to survive.