Page 79 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
As we pull back onto the road, the headlights sweep across the trees and catch movement. Wolves, grey shadows keeping pace with us through the underbrush.
My stomach drops as I count at least three pairs of eyes reflecting our lights.
He’s driving in the wrong direction. Away from the fight, and away from my mate, who needs help.
“Turn around,” I say, panic sharpening my voice to glass. The image of Ben surrounded by wolves flashes behind my eyes. “We have to go back and help him. You’re supposed to help him.”
“No.” Maddox doesn’t even glance at me. His hands are steady on the wheel as he navigates the winding road with practiced ease. He puts the truck into gear, and we roll forward, the engine rumbling as we pick up speed away from the fight.
My hand shoots out, and I grab his arm. His muscles are like iron under my fingers, not giving an inch.
“What are you doing? We have to go back.”
Maddox doesn’t take his foot off the gas. If anything, he pushes the truck faster.
“You’re Ben’s mate.” He keeps his eyes on the road, taking a sharp curve without slowing. “The thing he wants most is for you to be safe. If I bring you back there, it’ll all be for nothing. Plus, he’ll kick my ass.”
Safe. I’m safe while Ben faces a pack of wolves, alone.
“But there were so many of them. At least a dozen.” The memory of all those wolves emerging from the trees makes bile rise in my throat. “And they’re not normal wolves. They were huge. Please.”
Shadows move in the dark undergrowth as we pass, and eyes glint where moonlight penetrates the trees. It’s something out of a horror film.
“Not happening.” His tone is flat and final. Professional.
“But what if you’re too late?”
My voice cracks, and I feel sick as he takes me further from my mate. Each mile stretches between us like a chasm. The forest flies by outside the windows, dark and indifferent, to my terror.
“Ben’s no pushover.” He speeds up through another curve, tires gripping the wet pavement. “You can hate me all you want. My job right now is keeping you alive.”
In the distance, a howl rises through the night air. Then another. The pack calls to each other. My stomach drops, and my hands clench in my lap.
“Turn around. Please.” I’m begging now.
“I can’t, I’m sorry. It’s a no.”
The flat refusal makes something inside me snap.
“They were everywhere,” I say. “I don’t want him to die because of me.”
Maddox’s hands tighten on the wheel, knuckles whitening, but he doesn’t slow down. His jaw works as if he’s grinding his teeth.
“I’ll go inside and lock the doors. I have a gun.” I beg, desperate. “Just please turn this truck around.”
Another howl, closer now, and the truck suddenly feels like a tin can, too fragile against what’s out there. I’d be happy locked indoors.
“Already told you. No.”
The finality in his voice tells me it’s useless, so I keep my mouth shut after that, knowing nothing I say will change his mind. We drive in tense silence then. My hands fist in my lap so tight, my nails dig into my palms, with fury and fear warring inside me.
Maddox pulls up to a log cabin, newer than Ben’s, and solid looking. Security lights blaze to life, illuminating a cleared perimeter. He’s out of the truck before I can blink, scanning the woods for those chasing wolves.
I follow, clutching the gun. “Please.”
He hesitates before pressing his lips together at the sound of more howls in the distance.
“Fuck.” Then he shakes his head. “Right, get inside.”
