Chapter 59

Kane's POV

The forest blurred as I carried Aurora through undergrowth, putting distance between us and Raymond. My enhanced senses guided me along hidden trails, avoiding steep terrain that would jostle her injuries. Her blood soaked my shirt, the iron scent triggering long-suppressed protective instincts.

"Stay with me," I urged as her eyelids fluttered. The gash on her forehead continued to bleed, matting her hair with crimson. Her normally flawless skin was marred by cuts and bruises, evidence of how close she'd come to death.

Behind us, Raymond's anguished howl echoed through the mountain, the sound filled with belated regret. I didn't slow my pace – his grief meant nothing compared to Aurora's life.

"Let him howl," I muttered, feeling her stir against my chest. "He made his choice."

I navigated carefully, each step calculated to keep her stable. The rendezvous point was still a mile away, where my team waited with medical supplies. Time was critical – she needed more than the field treatment I could provide.

Her weight grew heavier as she slipped deeper into unconsciousness, her breathing becoming more labored. Fear – an emotion I rarely allowed myself to feel – clawed at my chest. The possibility of losing her now, after finding her, was unacceptable.

"Aurora," I called, jostling her slightly to provoke a response. "Talk to me. Tell me about the first ceremony you performed as Luna. The traditional words you memorized."

Her eyes opened briefly, unfocused but still alert enough to register my voice. "Kane," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Hurts."

"I know," I responded, gentling my tone despite the urgency driving me forward. "But I need you to stay conscious. Just a little longer."

We crossed a small stream, the cold water reaching my knees. Aurora gasped as the spray hit her, the shock momentarily rousing her. I used the opportunity to check her pupils – uneven dilation suggested a concussion on top of her other injuries.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" I asked, giving her something to focus on. "You called me an arrogant, self-absorbed jackass."

The ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Still are."

"That's it," I encouraged, relief washing through me at her response. "Keep insulting me. Whatever keeps you awake."

A scent on the breeze caught my attention – more rogues, circling to cut off our escape. They were tracking us, likely under orders to finish what the car crash had started. I diverted from our planned route, taking a steeper path that would be harder to follow.

Aurora's breath hitched as the movement jostled her injuries. "Kane," she whispered, a warning in her tone. Her wolf senses had detected the pursuit as well, despite her weakened state.

"I know," I replied, scanning for cover. "They won't get near you."

I spotted a dense thicket, the branches intertwined to form a natural shelter. Gently, I laid Aurora inside, positioning her so I could see her face while maintaining a defensive position.

"I'll be right back," I promised, removing my jacket to cover her. "Don't make a sound."

Her eyes, though clouded with pain, held understanding. She gripped my wrist with surprising strength. "Be careful," she whispered.

The concern in her voice – concern for me despite her own dire situation – struck something deep within me. I brushed my knuckles gently against her cheek, a gesture more tender than any I'd allowed myself in years.

"Always am," I replied with forced lightness, then slipped into the forest to eliminate the threat.

Three scouts moved uncertainly through unfamiliar territory. I circled behind, using the wind to mask my scent. My wolf urged me to shift fully, but I resisted.

The partial transformation gave me enhanced strength while maintaining human strategic thinking – a deadly combination I'd perfected over the years.

The first rogue died without making a sound, my claws severing his spine before he registered my presence. The second managed a startled yelp before I silenced him. The third, sensing his companions' deaths, tried to flee. He made it three steps before I brought him down.

The entire encounter lasted less than a minute.

I returned to Aurora, finding her exactly as I'd left her, though her breathing had grown more labored. Fresh blood had soaked through the makeshift bandages on her leg.

"That was quick," she murmured as I lifted her again.

"They weren't expecting me," I replied simply.

We continued through the forest, the rendezvous point growing closer with each step. As we crested a ridge, I spotted my team's vehicle hidden among the trees below. Relief washed through me – professional medical help was minutes away.

"Almost there," I told Aurora, picking up my pace despite the burning in my muscles. "Just stay with me a little longer."

Aurora's POV

Pain defined my existence, each heartbeat sending fresh waves through my broken body. The steady rhythm of Kane's movement as he carried me provided the only constant in a world gone hazy at the edges. I drifted between consciousness and darkness, anchored only by his voice urging me to stay awake.

"Tell me about the first ceremony you performed as Luna," he prompted. "The traditional words you memorized."

I tried to focus, to form coherent thoughts, but everything scattered like leaves in the wind. "Kane," I managed to whisper. "Hurts."

"I know," he responded, his voice gentler than I'd ever heard it. "But I need you to stay conscious. Just a little longer."

Cold water splashed against my skin as we crossed a stream, the shock momentarily clearing the fog from my mind. I felt Kane's arms tighten protectively around me, his body heat a stark contrast to the mountain chill.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" he asked. "You called me an arrogant, self-absorbed jackass."

The memory surfaced unexpectedly – Kane arriving at a pack gathering years ago, all swagger and charm, women flocking to him while he pretended not to notice. "Still are," I whispered, surprising myself with the ghost of a smile.

"That's it," he encouraged. "Keep insulting me. Whatever keeps you awake."

A new scent drifted on the breeze – unfamiliar wolves approaching from the southeast. My wolf, though weakened, recognized the threat. "Kane," I warned, my voice barely audible.

"I know," he replied, his pace changing as he diverted from our path. "They won't get near you."

The promise in his voice carried absolute certainty. This was a different Kane than the playboy I'd thought I knew – this was a protector, a warrior whose determination radiated from every movement.

He placed me gently in a sheltered thicket, his jacket warm with his body heat as he draped it over me. "I'll be right back," he promised. "Don't make a sound."

Fear gripped me – not for myself, but for him. I caught his wrist, summoning strength I didn't know I still possessed. "Be careful," I whispered.

Something flickered in his eyes – surprise, perhaps, at my concern. His knuckles brushed my cheek in a touch so tender it almost hurt. "Always am," he replied, then disappeared into the forest like a shadow.

Alone in the thicket, I fought to remain conscious. The mate bond with Raymond had faded to almost nothing, a dull ache rather than the searing pain it once caused. In its place, something new had begun to grow – a connection to Kane that defied everything I'd been taught about wolves and their mates.

I heard nothing of the confrontation, just the whisper of leaves and distant birdsong. Then Kane returned, no sign of battle visible except for a darkness in his eyes that faded when they met mine.

"That was quick," I murmured as he lifted me again.

"They weren't expecting me," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

As he carried me through the forest, my body grew increasingly heavy, blood loss taking its toll. Consciousness became harder to maintain, darkness creeping in from the edges of my vision. Kane's voice seemed to come from far away, urging me to hold on.

I tried to focus on his face, to use it as an anchor against the darkness threatening to consume me. His expression was set in grim determination, jaw clenched against what must be his own pain – I'd seen the slash across his shoulder, the burns on his hands from the rescue.

"Almost there," he said, his pace increasing. "Just stay with me a little longer."

I wanted to respond, to thank him for risking everything to save me when my own mate had abandoned me, but my body refused to cooperate. The world began to fade around me, colors blurring into shapeless masses.

My last conscious thought was the realization that despite everything – despite our complicated past and uncertain future – I trusted Kane completely. Whatever happened next, I knew with absolute certainty that he would not abandon me as Raymond had done.

With that knowledge providing strange comfort, I surrendered to the darkness.