Page 12 of His Lost Mate

His lips quirked in the faintest hint of a smile. “Comfortable isn’t safe. Let’s go.”

Phoebe pushed herself upright, grimacing as the dull ache in her ribs and arm flared. Jonah didn’t miss it. He reached outto steady her, his hand lingering at her elbow as she found her footing. She wanted to bristle at his help, but the truth was, her body was betraying her, and she needed it.

“Thanks,” she said grudgingly, brushing ash from her pants.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replied, already turning toward the mouth of the cave. “I let you sleep longer than I should. We’re not out of this yet.”

His words brought the weight of reality crashing back. The danger. The pursuit. The knowledge that whoever was after her wouldn’t stop until they had the flight computer, her head or both.

Phoebe followed him out into the wilderness, pulling her jacket tighter around her. The forest stretched out before them, an endless maze of shadows and silence. Jonah moved with practiced ease, his steps silent against the uneven terrain, and she did her best to keep pace despite the protest of her injuries.

“You always this cheerful when you wake people up?” she asked, her breath visible in the cold air.

Jonah glanced back at her, his expression unreadable. “Only when their lives are on the line.”

“Just so you know, I’d trade you for a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin.”

“Good to know,” he muttered, but she could hear the amusement in his voice.

She quickened her pace to match his as they moved in silence. As the minutes stretched on, Phoebe found her guard slipping, piece by piece. It wasn’t the exhaustion or the fear that did it—she’d lived with both long enough to know how to push them aside. It was Jonah.

Something about the way he carried himself—the quiet confidence, the unyielding focus—felt like a tether, grounding her in the confusion that surrounded her. She hadn’t relied on anyone in years, hadn’t let herself need anyone. But Jonahwasn’t like the other people she’d known. He didn’t demand trust. He simply existed, a force of nature moving through the darkness with purpose.

“You’re good at this,” she said finally, her voice low.

He glanced at her, one brow lifting. “At what?”

“At... all of it.” She gestured vaguely to the forest. “Moving like you’re part of the terrain. Staying calm when everything’s falling apart. Keeping me alive.”

Jonah shrugged, his eyes scanning the path ahead. “It’s what I know.”

Phoebe frowned, watching him closely. “You say that like it’s the only thing you know.”

“It might be,” he said, his tone flat.

The admission sent a pang through her chest, though she couldn’t explain why. “That’s not true,” she said softly. “I’ve seen the way you look at things—animals, me. It’s like you’re weighing every move, every choice and how it will impact others. You don’t just survive. You think. You feel.”

Jonah stopped abruptly, turning to face her. The sudden shift made her stumble slightly, and his hands were on her, catching her before she could catch herself, strong and steady. “What are you getting at?” he asked, his voice low and measured.

Phoebe searched his face, her pulse quickening as his grip lingered on her arms. “I’m saying you’re more than whatever you’ve convinced yourself you are.”

His expression hardened, and he let her go, stepping back. “I am what I am.”

Phoebe’s frustration bubbled to the surface. “Why? Because you think no one else can handle what it is you think you are or what it is you really are? Or is it just you think I can’t?”

Jonah’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something she couldn’t name. “Because I’ve been down this road before,” hesaid finally, his voice edged with something raw. “And the last time I let someone get close, they didn’t make it out alive.”

The weight of his words hit her like a blow, and she struggled to find a response. She saw it now—the wall he’d built, the reason for it. But instead of pushing her away, it only made her want to break through it more.

“I’m not whoever it was,” she said quietly.

Jonah’s gaze softened, just enough to let her see the cracks beneath his armor. “No,” he said, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. “You’re not.”

They stood like that, the tension between them thick and electric. Phoebe’s breath hitched as his hand brushed hers, the smallest touch but enough to send a shiver racing down her spine.

“Come on,” he said finally, his voice softer now. “We’ve got to keep moving.”

Phoebe nodded, falling into step beside him. She didn’t say it, but something had shifted between them. The walls were still there, but she could see the cracks now, and for the first time in years, she felt the faintest spark of hope that she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

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