Page 17 of His Lost Mate

He leaned back, his eyes darkening. “My father died in these mountains. Officially, it was an accident—he was testing survival gear for the military. He went out and never came back. They never found his body, just his gear, scattered like it had been left there deliberately.”

Phoebe’s chest tightened. “You don’t believe it was an accident.”

Jonah shook his head. “No. He was too careful, too experienced. And now, seeing what’s happening to you... I can’t ignore the possibility that whoever’s after you might have been involved.”

The revelation hung between them, sinking into the small space. Phoebe’s mind raced, connecting threads that hadn’t been there before.

“Jonah,” she said softly, her voice laced with uncertainty. “What if... what if this isn’t just about the Ghosthawk? What if it’s something bigger?”

He didn’t answer right away, his jaw tightening as he stared into the fire. “Then we make sure they don’t win,” he said finally, his voice low and leaving no question in her mind that he was in it for the duration.

The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, but Phoebe forced herself to smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, since we’re sharing secrets... I should tell you about my dream.”

Jonah raised an eyebrow, his expression cautious. “Dream?”

She leaned forward slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Yeah. Last night. It was weird and sexy all at once.”

His brow furrowed, but his interest was clearly piqued. “How so?”

Phoebe grinned, feeling a strange sense of relief in the teasing. “There was a snow leopard. Gorgeous, powerful. It was surrounded by this swirling storm—colors, lightning, thunder. And then... it wasn’t a leopard anymore.”

Jonah’s shoulders stiffened slightly, and his body went still, his gaze narrowing. “What was it?”

“You,” she laughed. She shook her head. “I don’t know why, but... it felt so real. Like you were right there, watching me.”

Jonah’s lips parted slightly, but he didn’t speak.

“Anyway,” she said quickly, sitting back. “It was probably just my brain trying to process all the crazy.”

Jonah shook his head slightly, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “Or maybe it wasn’t just ‘the crazy;’ maybe it was your subconscious trying to tell you something.”

Phoebe’s eyes snapped to his. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer, not directly. Instead, he stood, pacing toward the window. “Doesn’t matter. Try and get some rest,” he said gruffly, his back to her. “We need to leave at first light.”

Phoebe stared at him for the longest time, but he didn’t turn back to her. He was one of the most frustrating people she’d ever met. She stripped her clothes off, setting her socks, boots, and flight suit in front of the fire to dry. As she laid down and pulled the covers up, she realized she wasn’t just fighting to survive anymore. She was fighting for the connection she felt with Jonah. She didn’t fully understand it, but she didn’t want to ignore it.

She wasn’t sure if that terrified her or gave her strength. Hopefully the latter. Phoebe was pretty sure that before this wasover, she was going to need both strength and courage… and the help of the man who stood by the window, watching the night begin to fall.

8

JONAH

Jonah stepped carefully through the darkened forest, his boots crunching softly against the frost-covered ground. The cold bit at his exposed skin, but he didn’t mind. He was used to this—long nights alone, moving silently through the wilderness with only his instincts for company. The solitude gave him clarity, something he desperately needed now.

The cabin was a temporary refuge, but he knew better than to let his guard down. Their pursuers were skilled, probably armed, and Jonah couldn’t afford to assume they wouldn’t pick up his and Phoebe’s trail again. He paused at the edge of the clearing, crouching low as he scanned the terrain. The faint scent of smoke from the cabin’s chimney lingered in the air, but otherwise, the forest was still.

Too still.

Jonah’s eyes swept the perimeter once more, his muscles coiled tight. For a fleeting moment, he considered shifting. His snow leopard form was faster, stronger, and far better equipped for the cold. But the risk was too great. Phoebe was sharp—she’d notice if he disappeared too long or returned with signs of something not quite normal. And if their hunters caught even a glimpse of his true nature, it would be over.

He exhaled sharply, forcing the thought aside. Shifting wasn’t an option, not here. Not now.

Satisfied the area was secure for the moment, Jonah turned back toward the cabin. The wind picked up as he walked, seeping through his coat and chilling him to the bone. By the time he stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him, his hands were stiff, and his breath came in visible puffs of air.

Phoebe stirred at the sound, sitting up slightly in the bed. Her eyes were shadowed but bright in the firelight and followed him as he shrugged off his coat and hung it near the stove. Beneath it, his flannel shirt was damp from exertion, and he peeled it off with a faint grunt, draping it over the same chair.

“You’re freezing,” Phoebe said, her voice husky with sleep.

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