Honesty.Finally.Raw, painful honesty that cost her as much as his words had cost him.
I think you do know,he said, every word chosen with surgical precision.Same reason I came looking for you tonight instead of reporting your location to my pack.
Her head snapped around, eyes wide with something like panic.Don’t.
But he couldn’t stop now.The mate bond.You feel it too.
No.But he could smell the spike of adrenaline that shot through her system.
Yes.He leaned back against the wall, giving her space while keeping his voice gentle.It’s not going away.For either of us.
The silence that followed was loaded with everything they weren’t saying.The impossible situation they’d been thrust into.The connection that defied logic and loyalty and every rational thought.
Inside him, his wolf paced restlessly, frustrated by the continued rejection.
But humans were complicated.Humans had grief and vengeance and family loyalty that transcended biological imperative.
It doesn’t matter.Her voice cracked slightly, revealing the strain of fighting against something so fundamental.You killed my father.
I didn’t.The words rang with absolute conviction, carrying the truth he’d stake his life on.Neither did Quinton.
Then who—
The sound of footsteps in the corridor cut her off.Multiple sets, moving with purpose.Heavy boots on concrete.Their captors, coming back for round two.
Conall met her gaze across the small cell, seeing his own tension reflected there.
Whatever they want, whatever they’re planning—we’re stronger together than apart,he said quietly.
I don’t trust you.
The words should have stung, should have made him angry.Instead, they just made him sad.
She was so determined to see him as the enemy.
You don’t have to trust me,he said quietly, holding her gaze as the footsteps grew closer.Trust the bond.
CHAPTER 8
THE FOOTSTEPS STOPPED OUTSIDEtheir door, and Conall held Nadine’s gaze as they both pushed themselves to standing.
For a moment the bond shivered between them like a live wire.
Electric.Unwanted.Impossible to ignore.
Trust the bond.
His words echoed in his head as metal scraped against metal—keys in a lock.
Whatever was coming, they were about to face it together whether she wanted to or not.
The door swung open with a rusty groan.
Three figures in tactical gear entered, faces hidden behind masks.Professional.Cold.
The leader carried a tablet, his movements crisp and efficient as he surveyed them both.
Ms.Torrance.Mr.Stewart.His voice was modulated—electronically altered to hide his identity.So good to see you both awake.
