The descent into the ravine is treacherous. Every step sends pain shooting through my back, but I grit my teeth and keep moving. Riven stays close, his hand occasionally steadying me when loose rocks shift beneath my paws.
We don't speak. There's nothing to say that wouldn't waste precious energy.
When we finally reach the bottom, I lean against a tree trunk and try to catch my breath. My wound throbs with each heartbeat.
"There's nothing down here," I say, scanning the dense forest around us. "Just forest and—"
I stop. Something tugs at my memory, something familiar about the way the trees cluster together.
"What?" Riven asks, his eyes sharp.
"There used to be a hunting hut. Old one, abandoned for years. My father brought me here once when I was young." I turn slowly, trying to orient myself through the haze of pain and memory. "If it's still standing..."
"Which direction?"
I point east. "Maybe a quarter mile. Maybe less."
"Can you make it?"
"I have to."
We move through the underbrush, and with each step, the landscape becomes more familiar. The curve of that fallen log. The way those three pines grow in a triangle. My father's voice echoes in my memory, teaching me to read the forest like a map.
"There," I whisper.
The hut emerges from behind dense brush, small and weathered but still standing. Hidden from main trails, exactly as I remember it.
I make it three steps through the door before my legs give out.
Riven catches me before I hit the ground.
This time, I don't pull away. Too tired, too hurt, too done pretending I can do this alone.
"Easy," he says, guiding me to a corner where old furs still lay dusty but intact. He eases me down with surprising gentleness.
"Let me see your back," he says.
"It's fine."
"It's still bleeding." His voice is firm. "Let me see it."
I hesitate, then turn, letting him examine the wound. His touch is careful, almost reverent. The mate bond pulses warmly between us.
"It's deep, but clean," he says after a moment. "You'll heal, but you need rest."
"We don't have time for rest. Varek—"
"Varek's men lost our trail," Riven interrupts. "You're no good to anyone if you collapse from blood loss."
Silence settles between us as he tends my wounds. I feel every brush of his fingers, the mate bond making each touch electric.
"Why were you really exiled?" I ask. "You said you were an outcast. What happened?"
Riven's hands still for a moment. "I was five years old. My father didn’t follow an order."
I wait, letting him decide whether to continue.
"Varek's father, the Alpha then, ordered my father to kill three wolves accused of stealing from the pack stores," Riven says quietly. "They were innocent. My father knew it. Everyone knew it. But the Alpha wanted to make an example."
"Your father refused."
"He refused." Riven's voice is hollow. "So the Alpha had my parents executed for disobedience. Made the whole pack watch. Then he exiled me, a five-year-old child, as a lesson about the price of defying authority."
I turn to look at him. "You were a child."
"I was the son of a traitor. That's all that mattered." He meets my eyes. "I've been alone since I was five years old. No pack, no family, no home. Just surviving."
"And now you're helping the daughter of another so-called traitor," I say softly.
"Maybe that's why I couldn't walk away when I saw you." His hand touches my face, and I feel heat rush through me. "Or maybe it's just because you're my mate."
"Why?" I ask. "Why help me? You don't owe me anything. You don't even know me."
"I know enough." He moves closer. "I know Varek's bloodline killed your husband. I know you're the strongest wolf I've ever met, still standing when most would have broken."
The mate bond thrums stronger, demanding.
"I know what it's like to lose everything," he continues. "To survive when you shouldn't have." His eyes lock with mine. "And I know that the moment I saw you, everything changed."
My breath catches. The mate bond is burning now, insistent.
I don't know who moves first. Our lips meet, and the world explodes.
It's desperate and raw and real. The mate bond snaps fully into place, wrapping around us like fire.
When we pull apart, both breathing hard, I touch my lips.
"You really are my mate," I whisper.
Riven's smile is small, relieved. "I really am."
This time when Riven touches me, I don't pull away. I lean into it, into him. The mate bond sings between us, completing something I hadn't known was broken.
"I accept this," I say fiercely, my hands on his chest. "I accept you. My mate."
Pride flashes in his eyes. Pride that I chose him, that I'm claiming him as openly as he claims me.
He kisses me again, deeper this time. His hands slide down my sides, careful of my wounds but possessive. The mate bond pulses between us, demanding completion.
"Arida," he breathes against my neck, and the sound of my name on his lips makes me shiver.
I pull him closer, needing to feel him against me. His skin is warm, solid, real. Not a dream or a wish but mine.
When he enters me, the mate bond explodes. It's not gentle. It's raw and desperate and everything I need. Two broken wolves clawing their way back to wholeness through each other.
I dig my nails into his shoulders as he moves, and he groans against my throat. The pleasure builds, intense and overwhelming. The mate bond wraps tighter around us with each thrust, binding us together.
"Mine," he growls, and I feel it in my bones.
"Yours," I gasp. "And you're mine."
The bond snaps fully into place as we come together, and I cry out. It feels like lightning, like fire, like coming home. The connection between us solidifies, permanent and unbreakable.
Riven collapses beside me, pulling me against his chest. We're both breathing hard, covered in sweat and utterly spent.
The mate bond hums contentedly between us now, complete and whole.