Chapter 11

11

PHOEBE

T he forest was alive with sound—the snap of twigs underfoot, the sharp, tense breathing of their assailants, and the faint rustle of branches as Phoebe and Jonah pressed their backs against a tree. The group tracking them had closed in, leaving little room to maneuver. Phoebe’s pulse thundered in her ears, her grip tight on the knife Jonah had handed her earlier.

“They’re spreading out,” Jonah murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine despite the danger.

Phoebe peeked around the tree, her eyes sighting the shadowed forms moving through the trees. They were organized, deliberate, and terrifyingly efficient. “They’re boxing us in,” she whispered, panic creeping into her tone.

Jonah’s hand came up, his fingers brushing against her arm as he steadied her. “Stay close to me,” he said firmly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His calm authority grounded her, but it didn’t dull the fear gnawing at the edges of her resolve. She nodded, her breath hitching as Jonah moved slightly, his sharp gaze tracking their pursuers with the precision of a predator.

A voice called out from the shadows, sharp and commanding. “You can’t run forever! Give us the flight computer, and we’ll let you walk away.”

Phoebe stiffened, her fingers tightening around the knife. Jonah’s lips curled into a snarl, his entire body radiating tension. “They’re lying,” he said, his voice low and edged with anger. “They won’t leave witnesses… any witnesses.”

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay focused. “What’s the plan?”

Jonah tilted his head, the dim light gleaming in his eyes. “We make them come to us,” he said. “Then we take them down.”

Phoebe’s heart pounded as she nodded. “Okay.”

They waited, the air thick with tension as the assailants moved closer. Jonah crouched low, his muscles coiled and ready to spring. Phoebe stayed at his side, her breath shallow as she braced herself for the inevitable.

It came quickly.

The first attacker lunged out of the shadows, his weapon raised. Jonah moved like lightning, grabbing the man’s arm and twisting it with brutal efficiency. The crack of bone echoed through the trees, followed by a pained shout as the man crumpled.

“Next!” Jonah growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

Two more assailants charged, their movements fast but predictable. Phoebe ducked as one swung a blade at her, the whoosh of air too close for comfort. She thrust her knife forward, catching the man in the side. He stumbled back, cursing as Jonah dispatched the second attacker with a single devastating blow.

But there were too many.

Gunfire erupted, the deafening crack splitting the air as Jonah shoved Phoebe behind a tree. “Stay down!” he barked, his body shielding hers as splinters flew from the trunk.

Phoebe’s mind raced, her heart pounding as she clutched the knife. “Jonah?—”

“I said stay down!” he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As the gunfire paused, another voice cut through the chaos. “That’s enough!”

Phoebe’s blood ran cold as she recognized the voice. She peeked around Jonah, her breath hitching as a tall man stepped into view. His face was shadowed, but she knew the sharp angles of his jaw, the stern set of his shoulders.

“Major Simpson,” she whispered, her stomach twisting.

Jonah glanced at her, his brow furrowing. “You know him?”

Phoebe nodded, her hands trembling. “He was my CO’s executive officer.”

Simpson stepped forward, his cold gaze sweeping over the clearing. “This doesn’t have to end badly,” he said, his tone calm and calculating. “Hand over the flight computer, and we’ll all walk away.”

Phoebe’s lips parted, her mind racing as she pieced together the implications. “It was you,” she said, her voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger. “You sabotaged the plane.”

Simpson’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I was following orders, Lawrence. Orders from someone you know very well.”

Phoebe’s heart sank. “Lt Col Mitchell.”

Simpson inclined his head, his smile widening. “She sends her regards. Well, that’s not true. She never intended for you to walk away, so she sent me to find you.” He looked at Jonah. “You’re Locke’s son, aren’t you.”

“I am. You knew my father?”

“Not really, but like you, he was collateral damage and damn hard to kill.”

Jonah growled low in his throat, his body tensing as he prepared to spring. “We’re not handing over anything,” he said, his voice cold and unyielding.

Simpson’s expression hardened. “Then you’ve chosen your fate.”

Before he could signal his men, a distant roar filled the air. Helicopter blades. Phoebe’s heart leapt as the familiar sound grew louder, accompanied by the crackle of radio chatter. Searchlights cut through the trees, bathing the clearing in blinding light.

The Air Force rescue team had arrived.

Chaos erupted as the assailants scattered, their shouts drowned out by the roar of the helicopter. Armed soldiers rappelled down, their weapons trained on the fleeing attackers. Jonah pulled Phoebe to her feet, his hand gripping hers as he led her toward the rescue team.

“Are you Lawrence?” one of the soldiers called, his voice sharp over the din.

“That’s me!” Phoebe shouted, her voice trembling with relief.

The soldier gestured for them to follow. “Come with us. We’re getting you out of here.”

Phoebe glanced back at Jonah, her heart pounding as their eyes met. His expression was unreadable, but his grip on her hand was firm, steady. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice low but insistent.

As they moved toward safety, Phoebe couldn’t shake off what they’d just learned. Mitchell’s betrayal, Simpson’s involvement—it was all connected. But for now, she had Jonah. And together, they’d figure out the rest.

The rescue camp was quiet, the chaos of the past few hours replaced with the steady hum of generators and low murmurs of soldiers completing their reports. Phoebe sat on the edge of a cot, staring out at the horizon as the sun began to set, streaking the sky with hues of orange and pink. The crisp air bit at her skin, but she barely noticed it. Her thoughts were elsewhere—on what had happened, what was coming, and most of all, Jonah.

He leaned against a nearby post, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his eyes scanning the camp. Even now, after everything, he exuded calm control, the kind that made her feel safer than she ever had. But there was tension in his posture, a subtle tightness that told her he was waiting—waiting for her decision.

“Lawrence,” a voice called, breaking her reverie.

Phoebe looked up to see Major Danvers, the leader of the rescue team, approaching with a clipboard in hand. He stopped a few feet away, his expression professional but warm.

“The traitors are being taken into custody,” Danvers said. “Lt Col Mitchell’s involvement is already being investigated. Thanks to you, the Ghosthawk project is secure.”

Phoebe nodded, her throat tightening. “Good. That’s good.”

Danvers hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to Jonah before returning to her. “Your debrief is scheduled back at the base. After that, you’ll be cleared to return to the lower forty-eight if you want.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mitchell wasn’t wrong to bring you in to test that plane. The Air Force could use you.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

She glanced at Jonah, who remained silent, his jaw tight as their eyes met. The decision she’d been dreading was here, staring her in the face.

“You don’t have to decide now. I’ll let you think it over,” Danvers said, stepping away.

Phoebe turned her gaze back to Jonah, her heart pounding. “You haven’t said anything,” she murmured.

Jonah pushed off the post, his presence commanding as he stepped closer. “Because it doesn’t really matter.”

“You don’t care?” she asked, the hurt in her voice evident.

“Of course I care, but I’m not giving you up. I told you that.”

Her lips parted, frustration and something deeper bubbling to the surface. “You don’t get to make that decision.”

Jonah grinned. “Want to bet?” he asked crossing to her.

Phoebe searched his face, her chest tightening. “What if I don’t want to live this life? What if I’m not ready?”

“You’ll get over it. I’ll teach you all you need to know,” Jonah said, his hand cupping her cheek. “You’re strong enough for this. I’ve seen it. You just have to believe it.”

Her breath hitched at the intensity in his gaze, the unspoken promise in his touch. She’d spent her whole life running from connections, from vulnerability, but with Jonah, it felt different. Real. Inevitable.

“I don’t want to go back,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Not without you.”

Jonah’s lips curved into a faint smile, his thumb brushing against her skin. “Then don’t.”

The cabin was small but cozy, nestled deep in the Alaskan wilderness where the world felt far away. Phoebe stood by the fire, her fingers brushing over the edge of the mantle as she took in the space. It was quiet here, peaceful in a way that made her feel whole.

Jonah stepped up behind her, his hands settling on her hips as he pressed his chest against her back. The warmth of his body chased away the lingering chill, and she leaned into him, her breath hitching as his lips brushed against her neck.

“You ready?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

Phoebe tilted her head, her hand reaching back to thread through his hair. “I’ve never been more ready for anything.”

Jonah growled softly, spinning her around to face him. His eyes burned with intensity as he captured her lips in a fierce, claiming kiss. Phoebe melted against him, her hands gripping his shoulders as he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed.

Their clothes were shed in a blur, and Jonah’s hands and mouth explored every inch of her, leaving no doubt of his devotion. The connection between them was electric, every touch stoking the fire that had been building since the moment they met. He kissed a line to her breast, tonguing her nipple before giving it a nip. Phoebe hissed. He knew just how to nip and pinch before the pain gave way to pleasure.

Before she climaxed, Jonah flipped her over, setting her on her forearms and knees. Holding her close, he sheathed himself in her. His cock filled her in a way that was intoxicating. She was quite sure she could get drunk on his kisses and addicted to the way he fucked her.

He pulled back only to lean in, filling her with his cock until he began to withdraw, then to fuck in faster and harder. His cock throbbed as he pushed in, and it felt like there were nubs all along his length. When he pulled back, the nubs seemed to elongate and stiffen, and Phoebe yowled in a kind of exquisite pain. Jonah had warned her about what he called barbs, but his explanation had not prepared her for the sensation.

As Jonah grasped her hips harder, Phoebe cried out and arched her back, a bit like an alley cat. He pistoned his hips, driving his cock deeper each time. She tried to move with him, but he held her steady as he thrust in and out, foraging deep and dragging himself back out only to thrust in hard again. He began fucking her hard and rough in a primal way that woke up every erotic cell in her body.

Her orgasm swept over them both, rocking them, consuming them with its fire. There was nothing refined or tender in the way he was claiming her. To the contrary, it was raw and wild, and she reveled in it. She could feel another orgasm gaining speed and knew its fire would wash over her stronger than the one before.

As she gave in to the overwhelming pleasure, she suddenly felt a sharp and blinding pain as Jonah grabbed the back of her neck with his powerful jaws and bit down. She couldn't even tell if she was screaming from pleasure, pain, or surrender. He held onto her with his teeth while his hands tightened on her body, thrusting against her one last time and releasing his seed inside her.

Jonah collapsed onto her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. They were both completely satisfied, and she loved that she could give him that. They were fused together for a brief, sweet moment, until he nuzzled her neck and kissed the mark he had left behind. He whispered words of love that made Phoebe feel replete and secure. Most importantly, she loved the man holding her in his arms. As they fell asleep, he remained deep inside her, his hands reaching beneath her body to cup her breasts while he lay exhausted on top of her.

“I love you, Phoebe,” he murmured.

“You’d better,” she responded. When he pinched her nipple, she added. “I love you, too.”

“Better,” he chuckled.

The following days were a hazy whirlwind. It was difficult to distinguish between reality, dreams, and hallucinations, but through it all, Jonah remained by her side. He never showed any sign of resentment for being tasked with caring for her. In fact, he was incredibly attentive, loving, and kind. His soothing words and gentle touches comforted her both physically and emotionally.

On the third day, she woke with a clear mind and smiled as the warmth of the fire filled the cabin. The previous night had been the first time they made love since her ‘claiming.’ It was a magical experience. She thought she had been responsive to him before, but he proved her wrong with his passionate actions.

When it was over, Jonah kissed her softly, his thumb brushing over the fresh mark on her skin. “Mine,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction.

“Yours,” Phoebe echoed, her heart swelling.

A few days later, after Phoebe had fully transitioned and the moon rose high above the trees, Jonah shifted first, his massive snow leopard form emerging from the swirling mist. His icy eyes met hers, and she felt the unspoken challenge in his gaze.

Phoebe took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she let herself go. The mist surrounded her, her body shifting and reshaping until she stood on four powerful legs. Her own snow leopard form was sleek and strong, her senses heightened as she met Jonah’s approving gaze.

Jonah nudged her playfully with his nose before bounding into the forest, his powerful form disappearing into the moonlit trees. With a deep breath, Phoebe followed, her sleek body moving with a grace and strength she had never imagined. The forest blurred around them, their laughter and joy tangible even in their animal forms, the night air alive with possibility.

For the first time in her life, Phoebe wasn’t just surviving—she was truly living, her heart full, her soul complete. Running beside Jonah, she felt free, cherished… and finally whole.