Page 1 of Fearless Bond

1

CALVIN

I only ever got an anxiety attack when there was no actual danger.

Right now, alone in the mountains with the temperature below freezing, I was afraid but not panicking—and that made all the difference. Chances were, I’d make it. I could still breathe, walk, and think, which were privileges I would never take for granted.

Before my phone died, I’d found my location on the map. A small town called Beauville stretched six miles east of where I stood. If I followed the contour line and never went downhill or uphill, I would get there. Eventually. I couldn’t walk along the road. Damian would come back for me, spot me, and drag me into his car.

“You’re making the biggest mistake of your life, Calvin. Who will date a mentally ill omega, huh? You’re going to regret this.”

“I’m not changing my mind.”

“Who’ll take care of you?”

“You haven’t been taking care of me, Damian. You’ve been ordering me around.”

“You think you can make it without me? You’re nothing without me! Sick in the head, worthless, frigid piece of shit.”

I trudged through the forest in the thickening snowfall, doing my best to head in the right direction. Six miles wasn’t far as long as I didn’t get lost.

My thin jacket and sneakers were useless in this weather. I had to keep moving so I wouldn’t get too cold. The wind howled and trees creaked above me, but the forest shielded me from the worst of it. The two inches of fresh snow on the ground were good for one thing—they stopped the night from turning pitch black. But my ankles got wet, and my toes were starting to feel numb. How long would it take for frostbite to cause permanent damage?

Don’t think about that. Keep walking.

Head down, I hiked forward, stumbling over rocks and fallen branches that hid in the snow. I fell a couple of times but scrambled up quickly. My hands burned from the thawing snow, so I tucked them into my sleeves. For once, I was grateful that, because of my ridiculous size, I had trouble finding clothes that fit. My long sleeves might save my fingers from falling off.

Six miles. I ran that distance on a treadmill three times a week. I could do this.

Okay, maybe six miles in this terrain would be a different challenge. How far had I gone already? I couldn’t see any lights ahead and didn’t know what time it was.

I was so fucking tired. And thirsty.

Don’t eat the snow.

I didn’t remember when or where I’d read that advice, didn’t even remember why people weren’t supposed to do it, but I knew I shouldn’t.

Just keep walking.

My foot got caught in something, and the next second, I was face down in what might have been blueberry bushes. My sneaker slid off my foot. I sat on the ground, wetness seeping through my jeans and underwear, and quickly brushed off my sock before wrangling the shoe back on. I could barely feel my toes anymore.

For a moment, I sat unmoving, my chest heaving. I wanted to curl up and sleep.

That’s how you die. Get up.

Get. Up. Calvin!

“Get up!” I said out loud and stood.

That was when I saw it.

A dark silhouette against the snowy forest—big head, round ears, thick middle.

A bear.

It stood on its hind legs, staring right at me.

I stared back. Freezing to death didn’t seem so bad compared to being mauled and torn apart.

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