Page 61 of Fourth

She was near.

Ahead, Maya stumbled into view in a flash of pale skin, her wild blonde curls tangled against her back. Her movements stuttered, quick and uneven, like her body couldn’t decidebetween flight and collapse. Her bare feet skidded in the dirt as she darted around atree.

Brotha was closing fast, his breath tearing through the air in sharp, uneven bursts, arms driving hard at his sides. Each stride chewed up the ground beneath him, relentless and vicious, like he could already taste the victory of catchingher.

Riv’En’s vision burned white-hot, edges blurring in a wash of heat and light. No thought. Only reflex. Every nerve in his body fired at once—drive, bond, protection—all condensed into that single blazing moment. The scent of Maya just ahead, the taste of burning already on the back of his tongue, and Brotha’s form shifting closer to the one thing Riv’En refused tolose.

Brotha reached out for her, fingers spread wide, intent clear in every sharp line of his body. His stride hammered through the quiet in pounding rhythm as his hand drove forward, inches from grazing her skin. Maya’s hair whipped in the wind of his momentum, her body twisting mid-step as if she sensed it a split second before it happened. Brotha’s hand closed on emptyair.

And Riv’En struck.

He dropped camouflage mid-motion. One arm slashed out, catching Brotha’s wrist in a bone-crushing grip. The impact echoed like a gunshot through the clearing.

Brotha snarled, jerking back, but Riv’En didn’t release. His free hand slammed into the challenger’s shoulder, driving him sideways, shoving him hard enough to send him staggering.

Maya skidded to a halt just ahead, feet digging into the dirt, her shoulders jerking with the effort to stop. Her breath caught, asharp, involuntary sound that split the air like a blade.

Slowly, as if drawn by something larger than herself, she turned. Her eyes locked onto Riv’En. Her lips parted, trembling, the shape of his name forming on pure need rather than thought.

Her pulse fluttered visibly at her throat. Sweat glistened on her skin. Her hair, wild and snarled, framed her face in golden streaks that caught the fractured light filtering through the canopy.

Riv’En’s chest scalded with heat so sharp it almost stole his breath. It wasn’t the fire of Final Flight. It was her. Her nearness. Her defiance. The bond throbbed between them, fierce and sharp, until the entire world narrowed to that single thread tying them together.

“Go,” he growled, voice ragged.

But she didn’t. Her chest heaved, shoulders tense and unsteady, as if she couldn’t quite force herself to move away. Her foot shifted forward, the faint scrape of her heel against the dirt loud in Riv’En’s ears. Her gaze never wavered from his. One step closer. Not a mistake. Not hesitation. Achoice.

Behind Riv’En, Brotha regained his footing, feet scraping against dirt and leaves. His laughter cracked through the tension—low, feral, brimming with bitter triumph.

“There it is,” he rasped, voice rough with exertion. “Final Flight, plain as day. You can barely stand, Fourth. You are shaking. Slower. Weaker. And you think you can keep her? You think she will stay when she sees you burn?”

Riv’En’s didn’t look back at Brotha. His gaze stayed on Maya. Her wide eyes. The tight line of her spine, the flicker of tension in her stance. Her scent was laced with fear, though not entirely. Something else layered beneath it. Panic. Yet also determination.

“Riv’En...” she whispered.

That sound—his name on her lips—nearly undidhim.

Brotha lunged.

Riv’En moved. Fast. Decisive. He drove his elbow up into Brotha’s face. Bone cracked. Blood sprayed. Brotha stumbled, teeth bared in a grimace that twisted into something like a smile.

“You think you can hold me off forever?” Brotha spat blood. “You will burn, Fourth. Sooner or later. Might as well let it happen now.”

Riv’En bared his teeth, the taste of fire already sharp in his mouth. “You are wrong,” he said, voice like stone cracking. Inside, his thoughts scorched just as hot as his blood. Not yet, not now. He was not going to burn until he finished this. Until Maya was safe. Until Brotha was nothing but smoke and cinders.

The bond snapped taut inside him, atether pulled to its limit. Heat climbed higher. His skin shimmered with the edge of it, light bending off him in faint waves. Not camouflage this time. Somethingelse.

Brotha saw it. His smile faltered for the firsttime.

Riv’En stepped forward. Each movement purposeful. His voice came low. “You will not touch her. Not ever.”

Then he attacked.

They collided like falling stars—flesh and heat, bone and blood. For Riv’En, there was no separation between impact and purpose. His focus tunneled to Brotha’s throat, to the violent crack of ribs against his forearm, to the sensation of skin blistering under his touch. Every heartbeat hit like lightning through his core, each motion premeditated, intentional, feeding the flame that seared through both of them. Theforest shuddered around them. Maya’s voice echoed in the background, sharp, terrified. Riv’En heard it. Felt it. Let it drive him harder.

But Brotha wasn’t finished. His fingers hooked like blades, nails tearing down Riv’En’s ribs, scoring deep. Pain bloomed, hot andfast.

He didn’t flinch.

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