Page 13 of His Lost Mate

6

JONAH

The sun crept over the horizon, casting long shadows across their trail. The light, weak and pale, provided little in the way of additional heat to offset the freezing temperature. Jonah moved steadily, his steps silent on the uneven terrain as he scanned the area ahead for danger. The wilderness was his domain, its secrets and threats as familiar to him as his own reflection.

But today, it wasn’t the looming danger that distracted him—it was Phoebe.

She followed just behind him, her movements precise but slightly stiff. She was disciplined, no doubt a result of her military training, but the wilderness didn’t play by military rules. The terrain was wild and unpredictable, the kind that punished the overly rigid. Jonah could see the conflict in her, the way she fought against her training honed in a different world. And yet, she was tough. Determined. Qualities Jonah respected, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“Are we close to where you want to stop?” Phoebe asked, her voice soft but carrying an edge of fatigue.

Jonah glanced back at her, his gaze lingering a moment too long. She looked tired, her blonde hair falling loose from its tie,her face streaked with dirt. The faint pull he felt toward her tightened, an invisible thread he couldn’t seem to cut.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice gruff. “The higher we get, the harder we’ll be to track.”

Phoebe nodded, her jaw tightening as she adjusted her footing on the uneven ground. Jonah turned back, forcing his focus on the trail ahead. He couldn’t afford distractions, not with danger at their heels and a woman who didn’t belong out here relying on him to keep her alive.

He kept his ears tuned to the sounds of the wilderness—the rustle of small, falling stones, the distant call of birds, the faint whispers of the wind. They were being hunted, and he needed to stay one step ahead. The men following them were skilled; he could tell from the way they moved and their precision. And now, every sound felt like a threat waiting to strike.

Behind him, Phoebe stumbled slightly, catching herself before she fell. “Damn it,” she muttered under her breath.

Jonah glanced back, his lips twitching in a faint, humorless smile. “You’re too rigid.”

“Excuse me?” Phoebe glared at him, her eyes flashing.

“You’re moving like you’re still on flat ground,” Jonah said. “This place will eat you alive if you don’t adapt.”

Phoebe bristled, straightening her shoulders. “I’m adapting just fine.”

Jonah raised an eyebrow. “Right. That’s why you’re tripping over every root.”

“I’m not tripping over—” Her words cut off as her foot caught on a loose patch of earth, sending her tumbling down the slope.

Jonah’s stopped, but didn’t immediately go after her. Instead, he stepped to the edge of the hill, his eyes following her descent with a focused intensity. She landed hard at the bottom, a muffled groan escaping her lips as she struggled to sit up.

Jonah looked around, scanning the surrounding area, using his sense of sight and smell to garner any information he could about those who were following them. His gaze swept the terrain for signs of movement. Then he saw it—a faint glint of sunlight reflecting off metal through the trees below.

The hunters. They were closer than he’d thought.

Jonah cursed under his breath, his mind racing. The fall had been loud enough to draw attention, and now the men tracking them had a clear direction. He stood abruptly, his body tense as he made a quick decision.

“Stay down,” he called to Phoebe, his voice carrying just enough to reach her without echoing.

Phoebe looked up, her face pale but defiant. “I’m fine; thanks for asking.”

Jonah ignored her sarcastic answer. Instead, he moved swiftly down the hill, his steps controlled and deliberate. He reached her in moments, crouching beside her as his gaze flicked between her and the tree line where he’d spotted the glint of light.

“You’re not fine,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You’re loud, and now they know exactly where we are.” Phoebe scowled, trying to push herself to her feet. Jonah caught her arm, steadying her. “Don’t argue. We need to move. Now.”

“Jonah—”

“Now,” he snapped, cutting her off. His eyes burned into hers, leaving no room for debate.

Phoebe hesitated, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. Then she nodded, her stubbornness yielding to the urgency in his tone.

Jonah pulled her to her feet, his grip firm but careful. “Follow me,” he said, already moving to the side. “We’re changing direction. If we keep going this way, we’ll lead them right to us.”

Phoebe stumbled after him, her steps uneven but determined. Jonah forced himself not to look back at her, not to think about the way her presence seemed to pull at him even now, with danger closing in. She was tough, tougher than most, but she was still vulnerable out here, still relying on him. And Jonah couldn’t shake the overwhelming urge to protect her—not just because she needed it, but because he needed to.

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