10. Chapter 10 - Theron #3
Theron looked at him fully then and saw the exhaustion finally slipping through the composure Matt carried so carefully for everyone else. Fear lingered beneath it now too, sharper than before.
Not fear of the mountain.
Theron knew that feeling too well to mistake it for anything else. What moved through the bond now was sharper and far more personal. Matt was afraid of losing him.
The realization still felt dangerous in ways Theron did not know how to survive. And yet the bond carried no uncertainty with it, only quiet undeniable truth.
Matt stepped closer before lowering his voice enough that the others could not overhear.
“If this gets bad down there,” he said carefully, “you tell me immediately.”
Theron held his gaze. “Matt.”
“I mean it.”
The force behind the words caught Theron off guard.
Matt rarely sounded commanding with him. Frustrated, sarcastic, stubborn certainly, but not like this. The quiet intensity beneath the words felt different from authority. It carried none of the sharp edges of control Theron had spent centuries obeying beneath the mountain.
This came from fear, not for himself but for someone he was trying desperately to keep alive.
The realization settled heavily inside Theron’s chest as Matt stepped closer again, close enough that the warmth of him pressed steadily through the bond.
Without seeming to think about it, Matt’s hand caught briefly against Theron’s wrist where the corruption scars still darkened the skin beneath his sleeve.
The touch lasted only a second. It still felt devastating.
Theron looked down automatically toward Matt’s hand resting against him so naturally, as though reaching for Theron had already become instinct.
No one had touched him without hesitation in a very long time. No one had tried protecting him in even longer. The thought hurt in ways Theron did not know how to name. “You cannot save everyone,” he said softly.
Matt’s expression shifted, exhaustion and determination tangling together beneath the floodlight glow. “Watch me try.”
The answer threatened to break something open inside Theron.
Because Matt meant it.
Not as optimism. Not as bravado. As conviction so deeply rooted that Theron suspected Matt would continue throwing himself between danger and strangers until someone physically stopped him from doing it.
The bond surged warmly between them before Theron could contain the reaction. Matt seemed to feel it too because his fingers tightened once against Theron’s wrist while his breathing caught almost imperceptibly.
For one dangerous second, the bond eclipsed everything else.
Theron wanted to pull him closer. The truth of it landed hard enough that he nearly stepped backward from it. He had spent centuries surviving hunger, corruption, and isolation beneath the mountain. None of it had prepared him for wanting something he could not bear to lose.
“Theron.” Vale’s voice cut cleanly through the moment.
Both of them looked toward her.
The commander stood near the tunnel entrance with the movement teams assembled behind her. Floodlights cast long shadows across the fractured chamber walls while uneasy silence settled over the catacombs.
“It’s time.”
Silence lingered briefly between them after that.
Then Matt adjusted the strap of his rifle and stepped back just enough for the moment to loosen its hold on them both. The chamber returned around Theron after that, the shifting floodlights, the distant groaning beneath the mountain, the operatives gathering equipment near the tunnels ahead.
But the bond never quieted completely.
Theron could still feel Matt beside him through the steady warmth of the connection, constant and grounding in a way the catacombs had not felt in centuries. Even without touching him, Matt’s presence lingered beneath Theron’s skin like something alive and impossibly real.
For most of his existence beneath the mountain, every descent deeper into the prison had felt like walking willingly toward his own grave. Duty had been the only thing waiting for him in the dark. Now Matt walked beside him.
And somehow that changed the shape of the darkness itself.
***
The survivors moved through the catacombs in tense silence while floodlights carved pale paths across the ancient stone ahead.
Vale led the first movement team through the narrowing corridor, with Baptiste close behind her carrying two motion anchors secured against his back like oversized explosives. As Matt had pointed out several times already, that was essentially what they were.
Theron remained near the center of the formation while the injured were kept between the stronger wolves. Matt walked beside him despite repeated attempts from Vale to reorganize the teams more efficiently.
Theron understood the real reason. Matt refused to let him walk alone. He still wasn’t accustomed to the feeling.
The tunnels grew older the deeper they descended.
Ancient carvings spread across the walls in widening spirals worn smooth by centuries of moisture and shifting stone.
In some places, claw marks cut violently through the symbols as though something trapped beneath the mountain had once tried tearing its way free long before the prison began failing.
The First King’s presence thickened steadily around them.
Theron felt it in the corruption stirring uneasily beneath his skin. The prison was weakening faster now. Every tremor carried more strain through the ancient structure surrounding them, and somewhere below, something vast continued waking beneath the mountain with slow terrible patience.
One of the younger wolves near the rear swallowed hard. “Tell me those noises are normal.”
“They are not,” Theron answered.
Matt glanced sideways toward him. “You know, there are situations where honesty becomes actively unhelpful.”
Despite everything, the urge to smile caught him off guard. It still felt unfamiliar every time it happened.
Ahead of them, the tunnel narrowed sharply before opening into a massive circular chamber supported by enormous stone pillars rising into darkness overhead.
Ancient metal rings had been embedded directly into the floor in carefully measured patterns surrounding a deep central shaft that disappeared far below.
The entire chamber hummed faintly. Not sound. Power. The survivors slowed automatically as they entered.
Baptiste stared down at the rings surrounding the shaft. “This is one of the anchor points.”
“Yes,” Theron said quickly.
Matt stepped closer beside him, studying the chamber with visible unease. “Please tell me we are not about to climb into the glowing nightmare hole.”
Theron looked toward the shaft. “Not yet.”
Matt stared at him for a beat. “Was that a joke?”
Theron looked back at him. “No.”
“See? That’s the problem. I genuinely can’t tell anymore.”