The challenge in his voice makes something inside me roar. But before I can respond, Bracken groans behind us. He's getting his breath back.
"You," Bracken wheezes. His voice is rough but loud enough to carry. "You're the outcast. The one exiled as a child."
Riven's hand moves to Bracken's throat. A warning. "Quiet."
But the damage is done. In the distance, I hear the search party shift direction. They heard Bracken's voice.
"That's me," Riven confirms quietly. His voice carries no emotion. Just fact.
"Varek will kill you for interfering," Bracken says, quieter now but still defiant.
"Varek can try."
Bracken's eyes shift to me. Blood still drips from his broken nose. "You stupid bitch," he hisses, keeping his voice lower but vicious. "You're going to trust a packless wolf? An outcast?" He spits blood onto the forest floor. "Varek will love this. The traitor's widow, crawling to an exile for help."
I narrow my eyes, but I don't take them off Riven. I'm watching. Waiting for his reaction. Reading him the way I read prey in the forest.
Bracken continues, emboldened by my silence. His voice rises again. "You're even more pathetic than we thought. First you let your husband make you Alpha—an insult to our traditions—and now you're throwing yourself at the first male who shows you attention." He laughs bitterly. "A packless nobody."
The insult lands. I feel it. But I keep my focus on Riven.
He moves toward Bracken with careful, controlled steps. Each one deliberate. Precise. He crouches beside the injured wolf. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. Quiet enough that only we can hear.
"You attacked an injured wolf from behind. Where I come from, that's cowardice."
Bracken snarls up at him. Loud. Trying to alert the others. Trying to regain some dominance despite being beaten. Despite being on his knees. "Where you come from? You're from nowhere, outcast. You have no pack, no honor, no—"
Riven strikes him hard across the temple. The sound echoes through the trees. The impact echoes through the trees. Too loud. Too obvious. Bracken drops. Bleeding. Dazed. But still breathing.
"You should have killed him," I observe. My voice is low. Urgent.
Riven stands. Turns to face me. "I should have."
In the distance, voices rise. "Did you hear that?" "This way!" "Move!"
The search party is converging on our location. Fast.
Silence stretches between us. Heavy. Charged. The mate bond pulses beneath everything. Warm. Insistent. Demanding attention.
But we're both ignoring it. Focusing on immediate reality instead.
Riven's eyes scan the forest around us. Predatory. Alert. He's reading the shadows the way I do. Calculating distances. Mapping escape routes.
"We need to move," he says quietly. "Now."
The voices are getting closer. "I heard voices!" "Two of them!" "She's not alone!"
But I don't move.
I'm still assessing him. Still weighing options. Still deciding if trusting this packless stranger means survival or suicide.
"I don't run with outcasts," I say. Barely a whisper. Still, wounded pride speaking through me.
"Then you die with traitors." His voice matches mine in volume. His eyes track shadows between trees. Gaps in the underbrush. Possible paths. "Your choice, huntress."
The search party is close now. Close enough that I can hear their footsteps. Their breathing. Four wolves. Maybe five. I recognize some of them. Wolves I trained with. Hunted beside.
Wolves who want me dead now.
In my current condition—injured, exhausted, still bleeding from my back—I might be able to take one. Maybe two if luck favored me.
But not five.
The mate bond whispers at me: trust him, trust him, trust him.
Logic whispers something else entirely. This stranger is an outcast. Exiled. Packless. Everything I've been taught to avoid. Trusting him makes you weak. Makes you pathetic. Just like Bracken said.
But he saved my life.
I move closer to Bracken's unconscious form. My claws extend. "Wake him up."
Riven's eyes narrow. "We don't have time."
"Wake. Him. Up."
He hesitates, then nudges Bracken hard with his boot. Bracken groans, eyelids fluttering.
I crouch beside him. Get close enough that he can smell the blood on me. My blood. "Tell Varek something for me."
Bracken's eyes focus on my face. Fear flickers there.
"Tell him I'm coming back." My voice is ice. "Tell him I'm going to tear out his throat the way he tore out Sorin's."
"You're already dead," Bracken wheezes. "Walking corpse."
"Maybe." I press one claw against his throat. Not breaking skin. Just promising. "But I'll make sure you all join me first."
Riven watches me. Silent. His expression is unreadable.
The howls grow louder. Closer.
"They're tracking the blood," Riven says. "We have maybe two minutes before they're on us."
I release Bracken. Let him drop back to the ground. He gasps for air.
I look at Riven. Then at the darkening forest around us.
Sorin is dead. My pack turned traitor. I'm alone, wounded, hunted.
Except I'm not alone. Not anymore.
I think of Sorin's last moments. His screams. His blood on our bedroom floor. The way I couldn't save him. The way I failed him.
Then I look at Riven. At this stranger who calls himself my mate. His eyes are steady. Calm. Alert. Nothing like Sorin's warm brown gaze. Nothing like the mate I chose. The mate I loved.
Sorin would have wanted me to be strategic. Patient. Wait for the right moment.
But Sorin is dead.
And I'm not.
The mate bond flares stronger.
"Fine," I say. "But if you slow me down, I'm leaving you behind."
Riven's mouth quirks. Almost a smile. "If I slow you down, you can try."
"Where are we going?"
"Does it matter?" He's already moving, scanning the treeline.
"Yes."
"Away from them. Toward living." He glances back at me. "Unless you'd prefer to make your stand here. Wounded. Outnumbered. Bleeding."
I bare my teeth. Not a smile. "I prefer to make my stand when I choose the ground."
"Smart." He starts moving through the underbrush. Silent despite his size. "Then follow me, huntress."
I take one last look at the direction of our home. The home I shared with Sorin. The life I had. The Alpha I was supposed to be.
All of it is gone now.
Then I turn my back on it.
And follow the outcast into the dark.
Behind us, Bracken's voice rises. Alerting the others. Telling them which direction we went.
Good.
Let them come.