And then I found him—lying in the middle of nowhere, deep in a dead mountain range, his leg twisted, his body burning with fever. An alpha, half-dead and alone.
I remember kneeling beside him, shaking. “Hey… can you hear me? Don’t die, okay? I’m not strong enough to drag a corpse down this mountain.”
He didn’t answer. So I stayed. I gave him everything I had—my food, my water, my medicine. I stayed awake for days, taking care of him like he was the only thing that mattered.
Three days later, he woke up.
And I… collapsed right after.
When I woke again, he was the one holding me, his wrist cut open, his blood pressed to my lips.
“Drink,” he said, hoarse but firm. “You’re not dying on me. Not after you saved me.”
I tried to push him away. “Are you crazy…? You’ll weaken yourself.”
He shook his head. “I’m an alpha. I can handle it. You can’t.”
He fed me his blood again and again until help came.
Later, when he chased me, when he refused to let me go, he would always say the same thing.
“We survived that place together. That kind of thing doesn’t happen twice. It means something, Chloe. It means we’re bound. Fate, past life, whatever you want to call it… I’m not letting you go.”