Page 50 of Fear

She didn’t know how long she’d been lying there—blood dried on her lip, the gun ripped from her hands, her body aching from the brutal tackle that had ended her escape.

Back in the room. Different from before. Smaller. Windowless. The door now reinforced with an external lock. They weren’t taking any more chances. Her hands were bound in front of her this time, wrists raw beneath the plastic tie. Every shift sent a jolt of fire up her arms, but she didn’t stop trying.

Because the second she stopped trying, she was dead. Jason hadn’t come to her again. Not yet. But he would. She knew it. He always came when he thought she was about to break.

She wasn’t going to give him that. Not when she felt it again—that tug in her chest.

Faint at first, but steady. Her eyes snapped open, breath catching.

He’s close, she didn’t know how, couldn’t explain it. But something inside her stirred, a deep, buried warmth that reached past the bruises and pain and whispered to her:

He’s coming. Goliath. Her mate. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not yet. Instead, she whispered his name. “Goliath…” It didn’t echo, it didn’t need to.

Because whatever it was that tied her to him…it pulsed like a heartbeat.

Wincing she grimaced in pain, as her lip was split and swollen. Her ribs ached with every breath. Her wrists throbbed from being twisted and tied. There was a bruise on her cheek she hadn’t dared to look at.

What would he do when he saw her like this? She could almost picture it. That look in his eyes—rage, pain, failure. He’d blame himself, he’d think that he hadn’t protected her.

And he’d be right, but it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t. She should’ve told him more, told him about Rodes, about the threats, about everything before it was too late. Now look where they were.

She curled in tighter on the cot, eyes fixed on the flickering light above her. It buzzed like a warning. What if Jason moved her again? What if Goliath was close—but not close enough?

What if she died tonight, just as he was reaching for her? The thought nearly broke her, but then…the bond pulsed again. Harder this time. Closer. She sat up slowly, heart in her throat. It was real, he was here, and God help anyone who stood in his way.

Her body was screaming. Every inch of her felt like it had been ground into the earth.

The plastic tie around her wrists had rubbed the skin raw, a deep burn she could feel pulsing with every heartbeat. Her ribs ached with each shallow breath—a dull, thudding pain from when she was tackled to the ground like an animal. Her lip was still split, crusted with dried blood, and her shoulder was swollen from where it had slammed against the SUV door.

She lay curled on the thin cot, knees drawn up to her chest. The small, concrete room was silent, the only sound the faint hum of fluorescent lighting above.

It smelled like sweat, metal, blood, and fear. She hadn’t cried, not once, because if she started now, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop. She wouldn’t give Rodes—or any of his men—that. She wouldn’t let them see her break, but in the silence, with no one to perform for, the cracks were starting to show.

Her heart pounded with a slow, sick rhythm. Her mind ran circles, spinning between fear and fury and despair.

How long had she been here? A day? Two? It was impossible to tell.

She tried to remember the last time she heard a voice that wasn’t laced with cruelty. The last time she saw sunlight.

The last time she felt safe. The last time she saw Goliath. She pressed her cheek to her knees and let herself whisper his name.

“Goliath…” It wasn’t a prayer. It was a promise. The bond between them—it was still there. Barely. But enough. Enough to feel something stir in her chest. A warmth where there should’ve been only cold. Like he was reaching for her, Like he was close.

She didn’t understand it—this connection, this invisible line between their souls…but she felt it all the same. Sometimes faint, like a whisper on the wind. Sometimes sharp, like a lightning strike to the spine.

But now…it pulsed. Strong, urgent, real. He was near, her lips trembled. Oh God, he’s close, but with that hope came fear. What would he see when he found her? Would he look at her and feel nothing but guilt? Would he see the bruises, the blood, the broken pieces—and blame himself for not getting to her sooner?

Because even though she hadn’t been with Goliath for long, she knew him. She knew the way he carried pain. Quietly, deeply. Like a wound he refused to show but couldn’t stop bleeding. And she couldn’t bear the thought of him thinking this was his fault. It wasn’t. It was hers.

For not speaking up. For staying too long. For thinking she could handle someone like Jason Rodes on her own. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she blinked them away again. She would hold on, for him.

Then…something shifted. A weight in her chest lifted, just for a moment. Like pressure breaking, like air moving again. She sat up slowly, blood rushing in her ears. There it was, the pull. Stronger now, closer. It hummed beneath her skin.

She didn’t know where he was…couldn’t see him or hear him…but her body knew. Her wolf—because even if she wasn’t one, she was his—felt him.

She stood on trembling legs, moved toward the door. Pressed her ear to the cold metal. Silence. Then a distant sound. Heavy, muffled. Then the sound of boots. More than one. Moving fast.

She closed her eyes. Come on. Come on. Please be him. Please let this be the moment, because she didn’t know how many more she had left.

---