Chapter 11
RIDGE
The world is fading, dissolving at the edges into a hazy crimson. The pain is a distant, throbbing thing, a monstrous drumbeat in my side where the bullet tore through me.
I’m on my back on the cold, dusty ground, the grit of this forgotten outpost grinding into my skin. Above me, the sky is a bruised purple, bleeding into the inky black of night. The firefight has stopped, leaving behind a ringing silence that’s louder than the gunfire was.
“Ridge! Stay with me, brother!”
Luka’s voice is a frantic anchor, pulling me back from the churning depths. His hands are pressing down on my wound, a futile dam against the tide of my life spilling out onto the dirt.
It’s useless. We both know it. We came here unprepared, acting on a scrap of intel, a whisper that our mate was being held in this shithole. We found nothing but a well-armed ambush and a whole lot of death.
My eyes flutter closed.
The pain recedes, replaced by a warmth that has nothing to do with my failing body. It’s her. Brylee.
Ridge.
Her voice isn't in my ears; it’s in my soul, a melody of starlight and honey.
I can see her so clearly. She’s kneeling beside me, her beautiful face a mask of fierce determination.
Her blonde hair is a cascade of spun gold, a halo around her head, and her blue eyes—the color of a summer sky after a storm—are burning with an inner fire.
You can’t leave me, she whispers, her ghostly fingers tracing the line of my jaw. You promised me a lifetime. You promised me sunrises and stupid arguments about whose turn it is to make coffee. Don’t you dare break that promise, Ridge. You fight.
Did I promise you that?
But I know I haven’t. Not yet. This is just what I want to hear from the omega who consumes me—mind, body, and soul.
My breath hitches, a wet, gurgling sound.
I want to fight. For her, I’d fight the devil himself. I try to tell her that, but my lips won’t move.
My pack is here. I can feel them. They’re trying to save me, but it’s her I’m reaching for.
Get up, she urges, her image wavering. Find me.
But then the image shifts. It fractures like broken glass. Her hair darkens to a rich, warm gold. The softness in her eyes sharpens into warrior-like determination. The face is still beautiful, still familiar, but it’s not Brylee.
It’s Teddie.
The name hits me like a physical blow, a jolt of pure, unadulterated confusion.
Teddie.
Goddamn Teddie.
Her twin brother.
Why in the name of all that’s holy am I seeing his face now? Why is he the one superimposed over my mate as I lie here bleeding to death?
Though…
They don’t really look like twins. They’re almost too similar. Like they’re the same person.
Ridge, focus.
It’s Teddie’s voice now, clear and calm, cutting through Brylee’s desperate pleas.
It makes no sense. My yearning, my entire being, is for Brylee.
My mate. The other half of my soul. The thought of her suffering, of what they might be doing to her, is a physical agony that dwarfs the hole in my gut.
So why is Teddie here? His blue eyes seem to know me, to hold a depth of understanding that feels…intimate.
It’s wrong.
It’s a betrayal, even in my own mind.
But…
Those eyes are Brylee’s in Teddie’s face. Those are her cheekbones. Her pouty lips.
I’m fucking losing it.
"Ridge! Don't you fucking dare!" Kylian’s roar this time, closer, angrier. "Colter, get the chopper on the line again! Now!"
I force my eyes open. The world swims back into focus, sharp and painful.
Luka is still leaning over me, his face pale and streaked with sweat and grime.
"We have to move him," Luka is saying, his voice tight with panic. "We can't stay here."
"Brylee…" I manage to croak, the word tearing from my throat. "Find…her."
My vision blurs again, and the darkness pulls me under.
I’m back in that warm, painless place. But this time, it’s not Brylee waiting for me.
It’s Teddie. He’s just watching me, his head tilted, a sad, knowing smile on his lips.
He’s not urging me to fight. He’s just…there.
An observer. A ghost in my final moments.
The confusion is a new kind of torment, sharper than the pain. It feels like a betrayal of Brylee, of the sacred bond we share. My dying mind should be filled with her, only her. Our shared memories, our promises, our future.
Instead, it’s haunted by the quiet, steady presence of a man who is practically a stranger. A man who I barely even tolerate, let alone like. A man who, for some reason I can’t begin to fathom, feels as important as my own mate.
“Come on, Ridge! Stay with us!” Luka’s voice is a deep, steady rumble. “We're not leaving you here.”
The pressure on my wound shifts as they try to lift me. A fresh wave of agony washes over me, and this time, the darkness doesn't just pull—it yanks. I’m falling, spiraling away from the sounds of my brothers, away from the pain.
Fight, Ridge, Brylee’s voice begs, a distant echo.
It’s okay, Teddie’s voice answers, clear and close. Just rest. You’ll feel better.
I don't want to rest. I want to fight. I want to live. I want to find my mate.
But as the darkness finally claims me, the last image burned into my mind isn't just the blonde hair and blue eyes of my mate.
It’s her…and him…and I can’t tell one from the other.