Page 37 of Savage Bond

I adjust her against my chest—tighter. Her legs kick once, then stop. She clutches my shoulders, not for balance but out of sheer, furious resistance.

But I keep walking.

Each step feels heavy. The weight of her isn’t the problem. I’ve carried wounded soldiers, scavenged tech, full water drums before.

She’s light.

Too light.

Probably malnourished from the nights without food, dehydrated without water. Human bodies are so fragile, and hers seems even more so. The way she fits against me stirs something primal—a mix of annoyance and an unsettling protectiveness I can’t shake off.

Her breath hitches, warm against my neck. I can smell the salt of her sweat mingling with the dampness of the jungle air. A soft scent beneath it—something floral and fresh that makes no sense in this oppressive landscape. Every inhale feels like a brand on my skin.

“Let me go!” she snaps again, fury threading through her words like a vine coiling around a tree trunk.

I keep my eyes forward, refusing to acknowledge the tremor in her voice or the fire in her gaze as it cuts into me like a serrated blade.

“You’re not equipped to handle this terrain alone,” I say sharply, pushing aside the heat pooling in my gut at her defiance.

“Like you’re some kind of expert?” She scoffs, and though I don’t look at her face, I can feel the challenge radiating off her.

The truth claws at me—I am an expert at survival, but only because survival is all I’ve ever known.

Still holding her tight against me, I navigate through the muck and thick foliage without breaking stride. Each step sends ripples through my focus; every shift of her body distracts me more than it should.

The jungle feels alive around us—roots creeping underfoot like fingers reaching for something lost in its depths. Ava’s body presses closer with every movement of mine; it’s both a comfort and a curse that makes me want to growl in frustration.

“Do you ever think before you speak?” I murmur as we break through a cluster of trees into an open glade—a rare pocket where sunlight filters through thick branches above us.

She goes quiet for a moment as if considering whether to respond or just sulk against me.

Then she says nothing at all—but I can feel her heart beating faster against my chest.

I hate this.

Hate how right it feels to have her against me. The way her warmth seeps into my skin, how her body fits against mine as if it was designed that way. I hate that she’s quiet now, not from exhaustion but from a reluctant acceptance of the reality between us.

The moment we reach a dry patch of moss-covered stone, I drop her—not gently, but not violently either. Just enough to make my point clear: we’re done here.

She lands with a grunt, hands scraping against the soft moss. I can almost hear the humiliation radiating off her in waves as she gathers herself, pushing strands of hair away from her face.

“Eat.” My tone is clipped, cold as the jungle night creeping in. I dig through my pack and toss her some of my own food. It lands in her lap with a soft thud. I don’t bother looking back.

I turn away and grab my gear, setting up camp with efficient movements. Each action is deliberate—every knot tied, every branch arranged like clockwork. My shoulders are tight; my jaw clenched so hard it aches.

The first spark catches in the tinder I’ve prepared, flames licking upwards and crackling softly against the evening hush of the jungle.

I hear her shifting behind me—quiet now, no more shouting or fighting spirit left to fuel her words. But I can feel her eyes on me, like embers burning holes into my back.

What does she see? A brute? A monster? Someone who has no business playing savior?

I stifle the thoughts, refusing to entertain them for long. If I let myself think too deeply about it all, I might find answers that terrify me.

The fire flickers brighter as night descends. Shadows dance across our makeshift camp; everything feels suffocatingly close now—her presence an unwelcome weight at my side.

“What’s wrong with you?” Her voice breaks through the silence, quiet yet pointed.

I glance over my shoulder but don’t meet her gaze directly. “Nothing.”

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