The Hunting Blind

The Hunting Blind was little more than a rotting plywood box elevated on stilts, abandoned by poachers years ago. It smelled of mildew and rat droppings, but it was dry.

Mara shoved the door open and collapsed inside. Jax followed, barely squeezing his massive wolf frame through the opening.

He collapsed on the floorboards, his breathing labored and wet.

"Change back," Mara ordered, her voice trembling. "Jax, you have to change back. I can't treat the wolf."

The wolf whined. Shifting required energy, and the silver was sapping him dry. But he closed his eyes, shuddering.

The sound of the reverse shift was worse. It was the sound of a body breaking itself to become small again. Jax gasped, human skin knitting together over fur, until he lay naked and shivering on the dirty wood.

The arrow was still there. The skin around it was purple and necrotic. The silver was burning him alive.

Mara scrambled for her med kit. She ripped open a glow stick, casting the small room in an eerie green light.

"This is going to hurt," she said, pulling out her trauma shears. "I have to cut it out."

Jax looked up at her. His face was gray, covered in sweat and mud. "Leave me," he rasped. "They're tracking the blood. You can outrun them."

"Shut up," Mara said, her voice tight. "Bite on this."

She shoved a roll of gauze into his mouth.

She didn't have anesthesia. She poured iodine over the wound. Jax arched his back, a muffled scream tearing through his throat.

Mara grabbed the shaft of the arrow. "On three. One. Two."

She pulled on two.

It was messy. The barb tore flesh on the way out. Blood—dark and smelling of tarnished metal—gushed over her hands. Mara dropped the arrow and immediately packed the wound with QuikClot powder.

Jax groaned, his head lolling back. He spat the gauze out.

"Mara," he whispered. He reached up with his good hand, his fingers hooking into her tactical vest. "I'm sorry."

"Don't talk," Mara said, working frantically to bandage the shoulder. "Save your strength."

"I saw the arrow," Jax mumbled, his eyes fever-bright. "I saw it coming for you. I couldn't... I couldn't let it touch you."

"You idiot," Mara choked out, tears mixing with the rain on her face. "You took a silver-laced arrow. You compromised the mission. You compromised the pack."

"Screw the pack," Jax slurred. His grip on her vest tightened, pulling her down until her face was inches from his.

"It's you," he whispered. "It's always been you, Mara. Since we were pups. I tried to stay away. I tried to let you be... free. But I can't."

He inhaled, taking in her scent. "Mate."

The word hung in the damp air like a thunderclap.

Mara froze. She stared at him. The Lead Enforcer. The strongest wolf in the territory. And her. The scout who ran away.

"You're delirious," she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"I'm dying," Jax corrected. "So I'm telling the truth. I'm yours, Mara. Even if you don't want a monster like me."

He closed his eyes, his hand sliding from her vest to the floor. "Just... don't die. Please."

He lost consciousness.

Mara sat back on her heels, her hands covered in his blood.

*Mate.*

He had taken a bullet for her. He had loved her from a distance, respecting her space, protecting her from the shadows. And she had called him distracting.

She looked at the door. The Rogues were out there. They were hunting him.

Mara wiped her hands on her pants. She stood up. She wasn't an Enforcer. She couldn't fight them head-on.

But she was a Scout. And this was her forest.

"I'm not leaving you," she whispered to his unconscious form.

She grabbed her rifle and slipped out into the rain.

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