Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
NAVIRA
The dense vegetation of Rocky Point Island scratched against Navira’s skin as she crouched beside Sylar.
She shifted her weight for what felt like the hundredth time, and her muscles coiled further with tension that had nothing to do with their uncomfortable hiding spot.
Twisted branches created a natural canopy above them, filtering the twin suns into scattered patches of light that danced across the forest floor.
She could still smell the salty ocean from this distance, mixing with the earthy scent of damp soil and rotting leaves, but none of it settled the unease churning in her stomach.
This is wrong. Everything about this feels wrong.
She turned her head to look at Sylar, and his sharp look made her freeze in place. His blue-gold eyes held an intensity that seemed more predatory than protective, and the way he kept checking his watch made her skin crawl.
“I still don’t like that Thalric sent me off with you,” she whispered, unable to keep the frustration from her voice. “He should have listened to my concerns about this whole situation.”
“Just be quiet and stay patient,” Sylar replied, his tone carrying an edge. “This will all be over soon.”
The words sent cold dread trickling down her spine, but she forced herself to push it away. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe the whirlwind of this past week—an alien planet, sea wolf shifters, a mate bond that had turned her entire world upside down—had scrambled her instincts beyond recognition.
You’ve been wrong before. Remember Jeremy? Remember how you thought he loved you until he didn’t?
The doubt crept in like poison, making her question everything she thought she knew.
She’d been on Nova Aurora for barely a week.
What did she really understand about pack dynamics or the complex relationships that had been forged over decades?
Sylar had been the pack’s head enforcer for thirty years, and had practically helped raise him from a frightened five-year-old orphan into the powerful Alpha he was today.
Maybe I’m just a paranoid human who doesn’t know anything about this world.
She tried to focus on the completed mate bond thrumming between her and Thalric, drawing comfort from the steady pulse of his emotions.
He felt focused, alert, determined—exactly what she’d expect from an Alpha handling delicate negotiations.
The meeting with Graven must be proceeding according to plan.
But then suddenly something shifted.
The bond exploded with Thalric’s sudden spike of dread and fear, emotions so sharp and violent they nearly knocked her backward. Her heart hammered against her ribs as panic flooded through their connection, followed immediately by a rage so pure and primal it made her gasp.
“Something’s wrong with Thalric,” she said, starting to rise from their hiding spot. “I can feel it through the bond—”
Sylar’s smile was cold and satisfied, nothing like the expression of a man concerned for his Alpha’s safety. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is unfolding exactly as planned.”
Before she could process his words or react, his large hand clamped down on her wrist with bruising force. She tried to jerk away, but his warrior strength made resistance futile as he hauled her deeper into the island’s interior.
“Let go of me!” she hissed, but he ignored her struggles entirely.
They crashed through the undergrowth, branches tearing at her clothes and hair as he dragged her toward a small wooden hut she hadn’t noticed before. Her Olympic training kicked in, her body automatically trying to find leverage and escape routes, but Sylar’s grip never loosened.
That’s when she saw them—five pirates sprinting past the hut in the direction of the beach, their weapons glinting in the filtered sunlight. Her blood turned to ice as the pieces finally clicked into place.
This was a trap all along. An ambush to kill Thalric.
The realization hit her with staggering force. Her instincts had been screaming the truth, and she’d let Thalric’s dismissal and her own self-doubt silence them. Now her mate was fighting for his life while she’d been delivered straight into enemy hands.
We just completed the mate bond this morning. We haven’t even had a chance to build a life together.
Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but then something else rose from the depths of her competitive soul—the same fierce determination that had carried her to Olympic gold medals and through years of grueling training.
The part of her that had never backed down from a challenge, no matter how impossible it seemed.
I’m not going down without a fight.
Sylar shoved her through the hut’s doorway, and she stumbled before catching herself against a rough wooden table.
The interior was sparse and functional, clearly meant as a temporary base of operations.
Rope and various weapons lay scattered across the surfaces, and the smell of unwashed bodies and stale sweat made her nose wrinkle.
“Sit,” Sylar commanded, pushing her toward a sturdy chair in the center of the room.
She complied, but only because she needed time to think, to find some way to reach the man who’d helped raise Thalric. There had to be something left of that person buried beneath whatever had driven him to this betrayal.
As Sylar began binding her wrists to the chair arms, she forced her voice to remain calm and reasonable. “Why are you doing this, Sylar? Why are you helping Graven? Why do you want Thalric dead?”
His hands paused in their work, and for a moment she thought she saw something flicker across his weathered features—regret, maybe, or the ghost of old affection.
“I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” he said quietly, his voice carrying genuine sorrow. “I was trying to steer Thalric down the right path, guide him to become the kind of Alpha our pack truly needed. But then you showed up, and the mate bond completely destroyed all my plans.”
“Destroyed your plans how?” She kept her tone gentle, non-confrontational, even as the ropes bit into her wrists.
“I had him completely under my influence,” Sylar continued, his blue-gold eyes growing distant with memory.
“He was leading exactly the way an Alpha should lead—with no emotion, with supreme control and strategic thinking. He trusted my judgment implicitly, followed my guidance in all things. But you came along and changed everything.”
“Isn’t change good?” Navira asked, leaning forward as much as the bindings would allow. “Isn’t adapting and growing what makes a leader stronger? Isn’t Thalric being his real, authentic self better than some polished version that isn’t really him?”
Sylar’s expression hardened, and she saw the exact moment when whatever softness had been there disappeared completely.
“No,” he said flatly. “Because it destroyed all my ambitions, all the power I held within the pack structure. Especially when he replaced me in those training sessions, when he had you lead the enforcers instead of me. That was the final insult.”
Understanding dawned with sickening clarity. “That’s when you reached out to Graven.”
“That very day,” Sylar confirmed, pulling the ropes tighter with unnecessary force. “I struck a deal with him. Remove Thalric and his unpredictable, emotion-driven leadership, and I would join forces with someone who understood true strength.”
“But why would you choose to work under Graven instead of Thalric?” Navira’s voice rose despite her efforts to stay calm. “Thalric trusted you completely. He looked up to you like a father. How could you—”
“Because he showed his weakness!” Sylar snarled, his composure finally cracking.
“I had such high hopes for that boy when Roman first brought him home. I thought I could mold him into something truly powerful, truly worthy of leading our pack. But instead, he became soft. Emotional. Vulnerable. I cannot follow a weak leader, and I will not watch him drag our pack down with his pathetic need for love and acceptance.”
Navira felt tears prick her eyes, not for herself but for Thalric—for the boy who’d lost his parents and found a new family, only to discover that one of the men he’d trusted most had been manipulating him all along.
Thalric, I’m still on the island. In a hut. Please hurry.
She reached out through their telepathic link, hoping desperately that their newly completed bond was strong enough to carry the message across the distance.
What came back was a wave of focus and rage so intense it nearly stole her breath—he was fighting with everything he had to survive and reach her in time.
“You don’t understand what real strength looks like,” she said, meeting Sylar’s gaze with all the defiance she could muster. “Thalric’s willingness to be vulnerable, to love and be loved—that takes more courage than all your cold strategy ever could.”
Sylar opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of approaching footsteps made him straighten. The door swung open, and Navira’s heart sank as a tall figure stepped into the dim interior.
Graven Tideborn filled the doorway with predatory grace, his pale sea-green eyes taking in the scene with satisfied calculation. When his gaze settled on her bound form, his lips curved into a smile that held no warmth whatsoever.