Page 413 of Hate Mates

We are bound.

We are hunted.

And we are never going back.

Chapter Ten

ORION VOSS

We don’t stop running until I see the cabin.

It’s small, weathered, hidden deep in the thickest part of the forest where even warlocks rarely tread. Smoke curls from the chimney, a sign that my contact is already waiting.

Vivienne is panting beside me, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts, but she keeps up. She always keeps up.

I squeeze her hand once before letting go, stepping ahead to knock on the wooden door.

It swings open before my fist lands a second time.

Levi Durnham.

He stands in the doorway, broad, heavy-set, his sharp gaze scanning me, then lingering on Vivienne. His eyes flicker down to my wrist. He sees the mark.

A slow breath leaves his lips. “Shit.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

Levi steps aside, letting us in without another word.

The safehouse is exactly as I remember. Rough stone walls, a wooden table with a few mismatched chairs, a fireplace burninglow. A single narrow hallway leads to the rooms. It smells of damp earth and dried herbs.

Vivienne hovers just inside the doorway, her fingers gripping the edges of her cloak like she’s holding herself together. I can feel her exhaustion through the bond, the way she’s fighting to stay upright, strong.

Levi catches me watching her and lets out a low whistle. “You bound yourself to a witch. You really do have a death wish.”

I don’t flinch. “We just need a room for the night.”

Levi rubs a hand down his face but doesn’t argue. “One left. You take it, you clean up, and at dawn, you’re gone. The longer you’re here, the bigger a target you make this place.”

I nod once. I knew the terms before I knocked on his door.

Levi gestures toward the hall. “End of the corridor. There’s a wash basin. Should be enough warm water left.” His gaze flickers between us, but he doesn’t say what he’s thinking. He just sighs and waves us off.

I don’t wait. I take Vivienne’s hand again, leading her toward the room.

The moment the door clicks shut, Vivienne releases a shaky breath. I watch her carefully.

The room is small. Barely more than a bed, a wooden chest, and a washstand with a bowl of warm water. The fireplace flickers dimly, throwing soft golden light across the walls.

One bed.

The thought sits heavy in my chest.

Vivienne doesn’t say anything about it. She just walks over to the wash basin and presses her hands against the edges, leaning into it as if the weight of the night has finally settled on her.

Her reflection stares back at her in the small mirror mounted above the table.

She looks wrecked. Exhausted. There’s dried blood on her temple, streaks of dirt along her arms.

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