Page 36 of Savage Bond

And just like that, he releases me. The loss of contact sends a wave of disappointment crashing over me. He turns without uttering a word and continues down the path, each stride purposeful and confident.

I stare after him, confusion swirling within me. My pulse pounds in my ears—the ghost of his touch still burning on my skin like a brand. Why does this matter? Why does it affect me this way?

But beneath the uncertainty lies something else: an undeniable connection forged from survival and shared peril.

I shake my head to clear it and push myself to stand again, determined not to let him see how shaken I am by such an ordinary moment turned extraordinary. But as I move to follow him, something inside shifts—a spark ignited by proximity—and suddenly I’m acutely aware that surviving together means more than just escaping this jungle.

CHAPTER 23

KAIRON

The air is thick as blood.

Steam coils from the ground like breath from a dying beast. Every inhale is damp. Heavy. Full of rot and pollen. The trees thin out into a shallow swampland, vines dripping with moisture, the ground turning to soft, sucking mud.

I don’t slow.

Mud clings to my boots, water stains my legs, but I move with practiced force, each step calculated and deliberate. My body was built for this—endurance, pain, resistance. I don’t bend. Don’t break.

Behind me, Ava struggles.

I hear her. Slipping. Slogging. Cursing under her breath as she fights the muck that pulls at her like hands from a grave. I don’t look back. Not yet.

“Could you move any slower?”

Her voice cuts through the humid air, laced with irritation. It stirs something in me—annoyance mingled with a hint of concern I refuse to acknowledge.

“Just stay focused,” I say without breaking stride.

I can feel her glare even without turning around.

“I’m focused! This damn swamp just doesn’t want to cooperate!” She splashes through a deeper patch, the water soaking into her already ragged cargo pants.

The urge to glance back gnaws at me, but I suppress it. Weakness breeds contempt; that’s how it’s always been in my world.

Still, there’s an urgency gnawing at my gut—the need to keep moving forward. We can’t afford delays here; we’re already deep in enemy territory.

Ava’s foot slips again, and this time I hear a sharp intake of breath as she nearly goes down completely before catching herself on a nearby vine.

“Damn it!” she snaps.

My jaw tightens.

I glance back again. Not because I care, but because I can’t help it. She’s a vision of determination, fighting against the swamp like it’s a personal enemy. Sweat glistens on her collarbones, catching the dappled sunlight that breaks through the canopy. The way her spine moves beneath the torn fabric of her uniform drives me insane.

It infuriates me how beautiful she is—not perfect, but resilient. She doesn’t yield, even when the weight of exhaustion pulls at her limbs.

Then she stumbles again, and this time, her foot sinks deep into the sludge. A furious string of curses erupts from her lips, echoing across the murky water like gunfire.

Before I think about it—before my mind catches up with my instincts—I’m moving.

I wade into the muck, knee-deep in filth, and grab her under the arms. I lift her like she weighs nothing more than a child—a spark of surprise flickers in her eyes as I haul her free from the mire.

Her reaction is instant. Thrashing. Elbows flying.

“Put me down!”

“You’re slowing us down.” My voice is flat, final, cold as the steel of my blade.

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