Page 18 of Savage Bond

"You can’t even break my grip," he mutters, his breath hot against my skin. "And you think you’re ready for whatever’s out there in that jungle?"

My breathing spikes, sharp and erratic. Rage boils beneath my skin—but beneath that, something else. Something I don’t want to name. I hate how aware I am of him. Of the way his body fits around mine, not just holding—but caging. Not harming—but threatening with possibility.

I yank my wrist again, harder this time. "I said—get off."

His eyes narrow, something unreadable flickering behind the crimson. Then, without a word, he lets go.

I shove past him, walking away fast and without a backward glance. My heart still slams against my ribs like it’s trying toescape. I focus on the underbrush, the shadows, anything but the fire licking low in my stomach.

I don’t want to know what might happen if I stay.

CHAPTER 10

AVA

"Stupid bastard," I mutter under my breath, shoving aside a leafy branch that snaps back and slaps my shoulder. "Thinks he can just push me around."

The jungle doesn’t care. It hums and chirps and growls all around me, alive and oblivious to my rising frustration. Vines snag at my boots, roots threaten to twist my ankles, and the heat is a living thing—wrapping itself around me, dragging claws across my spine, making every breath feel like drinking steam. My uniform is soaked through, clinging to me like a second skin, sweat dripping down my neck, collecting in the creases of my armor.

I break through the last tangle of underbrush and into the clearing that marks our pathetic excuse for a camp—and freeze.

He’s gone.

The fire’s burned low, just embers now, and there’s no sign of movement, no hulking silhouette looming nearby, no glint of crimson eyes watching me from the trees. Nothing. Just an eerie stillness that wasn’t here before.

My stomach twists. That bastard. That reaper bastard.

“He left,” I say aloud, the words hollow as they leave my mouth. “He really fucking left.”

I stand there for a beat too long, letting the silence press against my ears. My fists clench. Anger floods in first, fast and hot. Then fear—quieter, meaner—slips in beneath it like a knife under ribs.

“He left,” I repeat, trying to make it sound angry again. It doesn’t.

I storm across the camp, grabbing what supplies I can—what’s left, anyway. The cracked water canister. The melted ration pack. The jagged hunk of metal I’ve been pretending is a weapon. My fingers move fast, out of habit and desperation. I don’t have a plan, just a need to do something. Anything.

I won’t sit around like a helpless target waiting to be eaten alive.

“And what has he done?” I snap to no one, jamming the ration pack into a salvaged sling. “Killed something? Great job.” Sarcasm drips off the words, bitter and sharp. “Big fucking hero.”

My eyes scan the treeline again, half-expecting him to come swaggering back, smirking like the arrogant asshole he is. But the jungle only sways in the thick breeze, whispering secrets I can’t hear. He’s really not coming back.

Fine. Then I’ll survive without him.

“Ava!”

The voice slices through the humid jungle like a blade. I freeze mid-step, breath catching in my throat. That’s Kairon. His voice. Hoarse. Frantic.

“Help me!”

My pulse spikes. I whip around, searching the wall of foliage for any sign of him. "Kairon?" My voice comes out sharp, too high, strung tight with disbelief.

“Please!”

The desperation in his voice isn’t something I’ve heard before. Not from him. Not from the arrogant, smug bastard whosneers at everything I do. It sounds raw—like he’s hurt. Really hurt.

I hesitate, my gut twisting into knots. He’s the one who called me weak not two hours ago. Said I wouldn’t last out here on my own. So what the hell is he doing calling for my help?

Trap, my instincts whisper. Every red flag in my training flares up. You don’t go chasing strange cries into alien terrain.

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