Chapter 4
4
JONAH
J onah moved through the dense forest with the ease of someone who had spent a lifetime navigating its secrets. His footsteps were silent, deliberate, each one a decision calculated to keep them ahead of whoever was hunting them. The air was cold, the sun barely visible through the canopy of pines. He glanced back to check on Phoebe, who was trailing a few steps behind, her breathing labored.
“You’re slowing down,” he said, his voice low but firm.
Phoebe shot him a glare, her eyes sparking with defiance even as she stumbled over a root. “I’m fine.”
Jonah stopped abruptly, turning to face her. “You’re not fine. You’re injured, and your breathing sounds like your lungs are fighting you with every step,” he said, catching her elbow to stop her. She froze, her gaze snapping to his hand, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
Her lips parted as if to retort, but he placed his hand over her mouth, and then she heard it—voices carrying on the breeze. Her eyes widened, and Jonah could practically feel her pulse quicken beneath his grip.
“They’re closing in,” he said quietly, releasing her and stepping back to scan the ground behind them. The group pursuing them was moving methodically, was probably armed, and was closing the distance bit by bit. Jonah had no intention of letting them get any closer.
“We need to keep moving,” Phoebe said, her voice taut. “You can’t stop on my account.”
Jonah turned to her, his expression hard. “Don’t mistake this for concern,” he said, his tone cutting. “You slow us down, we die. I don’t intend on letting that happen.”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. “I didn’t ask you to get involved.”
“No,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “But I couldn’t very well leave you there to freeze to death or get killed by whoever is hunting us. As long as I’m stuck with you, you’ll do what I say.”
Phoebe’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded, her pride clearly warring with the reality of the situation. Jonah didn’t wait for her response. He turned and began weaving through the terrain again, his senses scanning for anything out of place.
He knew she didn’t understand. It wasn’t just the random responsibility of one person finding another in the wilderness and helping her out. She was his fated mate, and he was responsible for keeping her alive whether she liked it or not. Jonah had spent years relying on no one but himself, solving his own problems and trusting no one to have his back. Now, he was responsible not only for himself, but for Phoebe as well.
He glanced back again, watching as she picked her way carefully over the uneven ground. Her movements were slower, stiffer than they’d been earlier, but her determination—or maybe her sheer stubbornness—kept her going. There was something about the way she refused to back down that stirred something in him he didn’t want to name.
“You need to keep up,” he called softly with a far gruffer tone than he’d intended.
Phoebe narrowed her eyes at him but remained quiet, focusing on the path ahead.
Jonah slowed slightly to let her catch up, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “If you want to stay alive, you’re going to have to trust me.”
She stumbled again, her breath hitching in pain, but she caught herself before he could reach her. “Trust you? You don’t trust me, and all I know about you is your name.”
He stopped, turning to her with an intensity that made her pause mid-step. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. “What matters is that I know how to get us out of this alive. Do you?”
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, biting her lip. Jonah felt a jolt of something he couldn’t place—satisfaction, maybe, at her silence, but also guilt. She was injured, scared, and on the run. He could push her, but there was a fine line between keeping her alive and breaking her spirit.
“We’re almost to higher ground,” he said after a moment, his tone softer. “Once we’re there, I’ll be able to get a bead on them and figure out where they’re tracking us from.”
Phoebe nodded, and they continued in silence, the tension between them stretching taut. Jonah couldn’t shake the awareness of her behind him, her scent lingering faintly in the cold air. She smelled like smoke and adrenaline, but beneath it, something softer, something that tugged at the edges of his control.
He pushed the thought away. Now wasn’t the time.
After another half hour of climbing, they reached a narrow ridge overlooking the valley. Jonah crouched near the edge, scanning the forest below. The movement through the trees showed they were too close for comfort. His eyes tracked their movement, calculating the distance and direction.
“They’re spreading out,” he said quietly. “Trying to flush us toward them.”
Beside him, Phoebe flinched as she moved. “And what’s your plan? Let them?”
“Not a chance,” he said, his voice a low growl. “We’re going up. They’ll have to follow, and that gives us the advantage.”
She exhaled shakily, glancing at him. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”
He met her gaze, the intensity in his eyes making her swallow hard. “I’ve done a lot of things before.”
Phoebe didn’t look away, her lips parting slightly as if to ask more, but she seemed to think better of it. Instead, she nodded, her trust tentative but real.
Jonah stood, offering her his hand. She hesitated for a beat before taking it, her smaller hand warm against his. The contact sent a flicker of heat through him, one he ignored as he pulled her to her feet.
“Stay close,” he said, his voice softer now. “And do exactly what I say.”
Phoebe nodded again, and for the first time, Jonah thought he saw something flicker in her eyes. Not just obstinacy and pride, but trust. Maybe even something more.
As they moved again, Jonah felt it wasn’t just the danger closing in or the responsibility of keeping her safe. It was her—her presence, her fire, the way she looked at him like she wanted to trust him but couldn’t quite let herself. It was the way he couldn’t stop wanting her to trust him that was becoming a problem.
Jonah’s thoughts kept drifting back to his father. The mountains—these mountains—had been his father’s life. His sanctuary. But they had also been his grave. An ‘accident’ was the official explanation, but Jonah had never believed it. His father was too careful and too experienced to fall victim to the wilderness he had mastered. Jonah couldn’t seem to escape the weight of suspicion and unanswered questions that seemed to be an almost constant presence in his life.
And now, there was Phoebe—his fated mate.
The woman trudging beside him, limping slightly but refusing to complain, had dragged his father’s death back to the forefront of his mind. Her story was too coincidental: a sabotaged mission, shadowy forces hunting her, and a connection to cutting-edge technology that was valuable enough to kill for. He couldn’t ignore the gnawing fear that whatever had taken his father’s life was tied to the danger Phoebe was in.
“Your silence is a little unnerving,” Phoebe said, her voice breaking the quiet. She was watching him carefully, her eyes glinting in the light.
Jonah gave her a sideways glance. “We’re being hunted.” He stopped abruptly, turning to face her. Weariness was etched into her features. Seeing it there sparked something deep inside him. “Forgive me for not making small talk.” His voice was low, edged with a dominance that made her hesitate.
“I’m asking because you’ve been glaring at the ground like it insulted you,” Phoebe shot back, though her voice had softened. “If there’s something I should know, say it.”
Jonah considered her for a long moment, then shook his head. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“That’s not an answer,” she said, folding her arms.
Jonah’s lips twitched in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You want an answer? Fine. People like you” —he gestured vaguely toward her jacket and whatever secrets she was hiding—“don’t wander into my world without consequences. I’ve paid for those consequences before.”
Phoebe laid her hand on his arm, her snarky retort stalled. “I’ve brought back bad memories, haven’t I?”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t need to know anything about that.”
“Maybe not, but I know that look,” she said, her voice softer now. “Like you’re carrying something you don’t know how to put down.”
Jonah could feel his heart constrict in his chest. He turned away abruptly, his hands flexing into fists before relaxing again. “We need to keep moving. The sun’s going down, but they’re not going to stop just because it’s dark.”
Phoebe didn’t push him further, though he could feel her watching him as they continued.
The chill in the air was biting, seeping through the thick coat Jonah had shrugged out of and draped around Phoebe. They found the cave just as the sun dipped below the horizon and the temperature plummeted. The entrance was narrow, concealed by a dense cluster of trees, and Jonah had to stoop to step inside. He swept his flashlight across the interior—a shallow, dry space with enough room for both of them, a ventilation shaft through the roof, but not much else.
“It’ll do,” he said curtly, stepping aside to let Phoebe in.
She ducked under the low entrance, her breath visible in the frigid air. “Cozy, but the atmosphere isn’t much,” she muttered, lowering herself carefully onto the rocky floor.
“It’s not supposed to be,” Jonah replied, making her stand before layering moss and branches for her to sit on with her back to the far wall. He quickly knelt to make a fire ring and lit a small fire in the center of the space. He knew there was danger in making a fire—the smell and smoke could be detected for miles, but felt it was far more important for them to keep warm and dry. The flames sprang to life quickly, casting a warm glow against the stone walls. “We’ll rest for a few hours, get you warm and then move again.”
Phoebe nodded, her hands rubbing absently at her arms. She looked smaller here in the dim light, the exhaustion in her posture stripping away some of the defiance she’d carried earlier. Jonah’s eyes lingered on her a moment too long, catching the way the firelight reflected in her eyes, making her look vulnerable in a way that tugged at something primal inside him.
“Try and get some sleep,” he rumbled at her. He wanted to offer comfort, but he also wanted her to obey him without a lot of questions. “I’ll keep watch.”
Phoebe’s lips quirked into a faint smile, though it was more wry than amused. “What, no sarcastic remark about how I’d slow us down if I don’t?”
“Not tonight,” he replied, his tone quiet.
She stared at him and it seemed as if something unspoken passing between them. Then she lay down, curling onto her side with his jacket pulled tightly around her. Jonah forced himself to look away, focusing on the fire and the distant sounds of the forest outside.
Minutes ticked by, the cave silent save for the crackle of the fire and Phoebe’s soft, uneven breaths. Jonah’s thoughts churned, the lines between his father’s death and Phoebe’s predicament tangling into a web he couldn’t untangle.
“I know you’re still thinking,” Phoebe’s voice broke the silence, startling him. She didn’t move, her eyes still closed. “You can’t even sit still.”
Jonah leaned back against the wall, his arms resting on his bent knees. “It’s my job to think.”
“It’s exhausting to watch,” she murmured, her voice softer now. “What is it you’re so afraid of?”
Jonah’s jaw tightened. “Afraid isn’t the word I’d use.”
“Fine,” she said, cracking one eye open to look at him. “What is it you’re trying to protect me from? Because it feels like more than just the people hunting us.”
His breath caught before he turned his gaze to the fire, the heat licking against his skin. “You remind me of something—someone—I couldn’t protect,” he admitted, his voice low.
Phoebe didn’t respond right away, but when she did, her voice was softer than he’d expected. “Hopefully for me, maybe this time, with my help, we can get it right.”
Jonah’s gaze snapped to her, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. Her eyes were locked on his, vulnerability mixing with a strength that made his throat tighten. She wasn’t backing down, wasn’t hiding the fear or weariness he knew she felt. And that made her all the more dangerous—to both of them.
“Get some sleep,” he said gruffly, standing abruptly and moving to the cave entrance.
Phoebe watched him go, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Goodnight, Jonah.”
He didn’t respond, but his heart ached as he settled into his watch, her words echoing in his mind. Maybe this time, he would get it right.
He didn’t know if he could. But he knew he’d die trying.