Page 29 of Never Submit

My mate.

The bond thrums through my veins and soul like a living, breathing thing that both drives and tortures me.

It’s not just a feeling—it’s a pulse, a rhythm in my blood, impossible to ignore. She’s alive and something’s wrong. The knowledge twists in my gut sharper than any blade.

The forest is caught in the grip of winter’s slow, creeping arrival. Frost filigrees the needles of towering pines. The ground is stiff underfoot and the once-soft earth is frozen into uneven ridges that threaten to trip me.

Her scent is faint on the wind, a teasing wisp that barely cuts through the earthy chill of the mountain air.

The sights, the sounds, the chill—they’re all secondary to her.

And then another scent knocks into me—him.

Dax’s reek hits me like a slap to the face, sharp and aggravating, musky and pungent. My lips curl and a growl escapes.

He’s with her.Why the hell is he with her?

I crest a small hill, movement flickering in the corner of my vision.There.

My heart lurches at the sight of her—she’s pale, her skin marred with bruises, her clothes torn and practically nonexistent. A feral protectiveness surges through me, and my wolf snarls inside my chest, clawing to get out.

Ren’s leaning heavily against Dax, her arm draped over his shoulders as he helps her down the slope.

But then the other part of her scent hits me. The part drenched inhisscent.

I stop dead in my tracks, the air around me crackling with rage. It’s not just that he’s near her—his scent ison her, mixed in a way that boils my blood and blurs my vision with jealousy.

Dax looks up then, his piercing amber eyes catchingmine. A slow, infuriating grin spreads across his face, and I swear he straightens a little, as if daring me to do something about it.

“Look who decided to join the party,” he drawls. “Late as usual, Nobie.”

Ignoring him, my focus locks onto Ren. “Are you okay?”

She glances up and those dark lashes flutter over too-pale cheeks.

She’s a shadow of her usual self, and the sight of her twists something deep inside me. Her normally vibrant skin is white, almost ghostly, and streaked with dirt and smudges that highlight the bruises marring her arms and legs.

Dark purple and green marks bloom along her ribs, peeking through the tattered remnants of her shirt, which clings to her in shreds. Blood stains the fabric, some of it dried, some of it still fresh.

My heart lurches with a potent combination of fury and guilt.

I should have been the one to find her. Save her.

Her hair is a tangled mess, wild and unkempt, as if she’s been fighting the mountain itself. Strands cling to her damp forehead. Her lips are cracked, her breath shallow and uneven as though each inhale costs her more than she can spare.

The faint trembling in her legs tells me she’s on the verge of collapse even with her weight pressing heavily against Dax’s side for support.

But it’s her eyes that hit me the hardest. Those usually sharp, defiant eyes are clouded with exhaustion. They flicker to me now, dull and unfocused.

There’s something else there—something fragile and heart-wrenching.Relief. As if the sight of me is the only thing tethering her to consciousness.

She looks like she’s been through hell.

“Ren—” Her name comes out rough, raw with the emotions clawing at my throat.

“Noble?”

Her voice is so soft, I almost don’t catch it.

---