Page 24 of Cursed By Fate

“Tristan,” I said, voice breaking. I didn’t know what else to say, how else to keep him from slipping away. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

He smiled, a faint and stubborn thing, as if to say that he didn’t plan to.

The cave was ancient, the walls breathing with the damp chill of forgotten things. Blood soaked through Tristan's shirt, a dark stain that spread too fast for my peace of mind. The fang marks slashed across his body like some grotesque artwork, and I steeled myself to patch them up. “You whimper, you die,” I warned, hoping my bravado concealed my panic. Tristan's grin was a ghost of its former self, but at least he hadn't stopped smiling.

He was in no condition to argue or resist, so I took that as a hint and reached for the wound. My hands shook, but I gritted my teeth and applied pressure. Hard.

Tristan jerked, a low groan escaping his lips. His eyes fluttered closed, and for a second I thought I’d lost him. The ruby liquidoozed in a sickening rush, and I clamped my hands down to stem the blood.

“Stay with me, Voss,” I muttered, more desperate than I wanted to admit. I couldn’t look at his face. Not while I was this scared.

His hand found mine, weak but insistent. “You got it, Sterling.”

The words settled something inside me. He wasn’t dead. Yet. I worked faster, tearing off my shirt and shredding it to make bandages. Not exactly first aid 101, but it would have to do until the wolf magic in his veins could speed up the healing. The bleeding slowed, then finally stopped. Tristan lay back, breathing labored yet steady. But I didn’t miss his eyes roaming my chest and the black and blush lace bra I’d left myself in.

“You’re a stubborn bastard, you know that?” I said, relief creeping in where panic had been.

He chuckled, a sound that sent warmth spiraling through me. “Takes one to know one.”

The cave wrapped around us, intimate and ancient, with barely visible carvings etched into the stone. Symbols that reminded me of the stone circle, faded and mysterious. The scent of earth and minerals hung in the damp air, and I wondered what this place had seen, what secrets it held.

“Quite the love nest you found,” Tristan said, his voice teasing but worn.

“Who said it’s for you?” I shot back, though the effect was ruined by my shaking hands. I wrapped the remains of my shirt around his shoulder, tying it tight. “You know this means we’re stuck here, right? Those guys are still out there.”

I met his eyes, intense and blue, watching me with a focus that made my skin flush. He nodded, the seriousness returning.

“It’s safe for now,” he said. “They won’t expect us to double back.”

His confidence should have annoyed me, but instead it calmed the storm in my chest. We’d escaped. We were alive. For how long, I didn’t know, but I’d take what I could get.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to yell for help?” I asked, settling down next to him.

“And risk a pack war?” Tristan shook his head, wincing a little. “Not unless you want to give my beta another reason to hate you.”

The mention of Ewan made me flinch. I was almost starting to miss him and his sunny personality.

Tristan must have noticed, because his gaze softened. “He’s loyal to a fault,” he said. “But you’ve probably figured that out already.”

“He’s a pain in the ass is what he is,” I replied, but there was no real bite in my words. I looked away, not wanting to let the conversation veer too close to things that scared me more than arrows. “And he’s right. Your pack would do better without me messing it up.”

The silence that followed was different this time, not awkward or tense but heavy with things unspoken. The chill crept back in, and Tristan shifted, sitting up despite my protest.

“I grew up on that mountain,” he said. His tone was flat, but the kind that had sharp edges if you listened close. “Forced to watch my father treat his pack like pawns on a chessboard. As if family was everything, but somehow nothing at all. I swore I’d never be that kind of alpha.”

I watched him, unsure what to say. His jaw was set, and I could see how hard it was for him to admit even that much.

“I know exactly what you mean,” I said softly. “But you’re not him.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” Tristan replied, voice low, almost to himself. Then his eyes met mine, searching. “What about you? What’s it like to be the outcast of Silver Ridge?”

That made me laugh, bitter and short. “If only it were that glamorous. Try the cursed beauty, destined to die alone.”

I shouldn’t have said it. Once the words were out, I wanted to take them back. But Tristan didn’t flinch. He just listened, the way no one else ever had.

“You’re not alone now,” he said, simple and true.

That did something to me, unraveled something I’d been holding together for too long.

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