Page 49 of Ranger's Honor
Then I see her.
Still crumpled. Still too quiet.
I stagger off the Reaper’s corpse, half-running, half-dragging my injured leg as I cross the flooded concrete to reach her. Every step is agony. Not from the wounds. Not from the blood loss.
From the hollow, soul-deep dread that I’m too late.
I drop beside her, shifting as I fall, human again in a second—bare skin meeting cold concrete, slick with rain and blood. “Kari,” I choke out, voice rough and ruined. My hands are shaking as I reach for her, brushing back the blood-soaked fur. Her skin is cold. Too cold.
“No, no, baby. C’mon. Breathe. You hear me?” I cup her cheek, thumb trembling. “Breathe, dammit.”
Nothing.
Then—gods, finally—her chest jerks. A shallow breath. Another. Her eyes flutter open, then close again.
I pull her into my arms like I can protect her from everything that’s already happened. I press my forehead to hers, whispering nonsense—her name, my promises, the word mine—over and over like a prayer to whatever force didn’t let her die.
Relief crashes into me so hard it nearly knocks me flat. Not just because she’s alive, but because something deep inside me locks into place with that realization. This isn’t just instinct or adrenaline—it’s the bond. Real. Immediate. Irrevocable. I haven’t fought it since the moment I marked her, and there’s no guilt in me now. Only certainty. Bone-deep. Soul-marked. She’s mine. And I’ll never let her face another threat alone again.
She’s alive. Bruised, bleeding, battered—but breathing, and I’m not letting her go.
She shifts as I hold her, the mist curling off her skin, revealing blood and bruises and eyes too wide.
"Dalton," she whispers.
"I’m here."
We collapse together, tangled in blood and breath, our bodies slick with rain and exhaustion. My arms wrap around her instinctively, the human in me clawing his way back through pain and adrenaline. Her skin is warm beneath the storm-chilled air, her heartbeat thundering in time with mine.
The storm howls above, a wild and furious witness to our survival, but all I hear is her breath stuttering back into rhythm and the low sound I don't realize I'm making until it shudders out of me—half growl, half prayer. We made it. Barely. But we made it.
Alive.
But only just.
Our bodies are slick with rain and exhaustion, every muscle trembling from the aftermath. My arms wrap around her without thought, instinct taking over as my humanity in me claws his way back through the pain and the flood of adrenaline. Her skin is warm beneath the storm-chilled air, her heartbeat thundering against mine—weak but steady.
I cradle her close, burying my face in her damp hair, breathing her in. Salt and copper. Rain and blood. Her. The scent of her—alive, fierce, mine—grounds me more than anything else ever could. But beneath the relief, guilt begins to tighten in my chest like a vise.
I failed to stop him before she got hurt. I hesitated, miscalculated, and she paid the price. She stepped in when I should’ve ended it—and nearly lost everything. The thought guts me. I was supposed to protect her, and she still ended up broken in my arms. I clutch her tighter, promising myself this is the last time I ever let her bleed for me.
The storm rages on above us, a wild, furious witness to our survival, but it’s distant now. Faded. All I hear is her breath, stuttering its way back into rhythm, and the low, fractured sound that escapes my chest before I even realize it’s there—part growl, part prayer, all desperation.
We made it. Barely, but we’re still breathing. We're alive, and for now, that’s enough.
CHAPTER 19
KARI
Rain still falls like a whisper, the storm finally spent, but my lungs fight for each breath, heavy with smoke, blood, and something ancient—something claimed. Sweat stings the shallow cuts on my skin, and each step feels like I’m moving through water thick with ash. The metallic tang of blood mixes with the damp, electric scent left in the storm’s wake, every inhale scraping down my throat as exhaustion drags at my bones.
My legs barely hold me as Dalton and I stagger from the warehouse, our steps uneven, the memory of claws on concrete and snarls snapping through the dark still crashing around in my skull. I falter when my foot catches on jagged rubble, and Dalton's arm instantly locks around my waist to steady me. His breath shudders against my temple.
"You with me?" he rasps in a low voice.
I nod, though I’m not sure I am. My hand presses harder against his chest, grounding myself in the weak but steady thump of his heart. He leans into me slightly, his weight a mirror to mine, as if we're the only things keeping each other from collapsing.
For one suspended moment, our eyes meet. His are bloodshot, wild around the edges, but locked on me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
