Chapter 9

9

JONAH

T he first light of dawn filtered through the cracks in the cabin walls, casting pale stripes across the floor. Jonah knelt by the fire, stirring the embers back to life, his movements quiet and efficient. His focus shifted to the small kit he’d laid out beside him—a fresh roll of gauze, antiseptic wipes, and a small pair of scissors he’d sharpened himself.

Behind him, the bed creaked as Phoebe stirred, her soft groan of discomfort pulling his attention. He turned, his eyes locking on her as she pushed herself upright, wincing slightly. Her hair was tousled, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but her posture was as stubbornly defiant as ever.

“Morning,” Jonah said, his voice low but steady.

Phoebe glanced at him, her lips curving faintly in acknowledgment. “Morning,” she murmured, rubbing her face. “Is it safe to say we survived the night?”

“Barely,” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching. “We need to check your arm.”

Phoebe frowned but didn’t argue as Jonah moved closer, his large frame making the already small cabin feel even tighter. Beside her, his movements were deliberate as he reached for her injured arm.

“Let me see,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Phoebe extended her arm, her lips tightening as he carefully unwrapped the old bandage. Jonah worked in silence, his focus intent as he inspected the wound. It was healing, the edges less angry and inflamed than before.

“You’re lucky,” he muttered, his fingers brushing lightly over the surrounding skin. “Given everything we’ve been through, it’s looking good.”

Phoebe let out a faint huff of laughter. “Define ‘good.’”

Jonah glanced up, his expression serious. “Good enough that you’ll keep moving. That’s all that matters.”

Phoebe met his gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Is that really all that matters?”

Jonah didn’t answer right away, returning his attention to cleaning the wound. Her question lingered in the air, pressing against the thoughts he’d been wrestling with all night. Phoebe wasn’t just someone he was protecting. She was his fated mate. The fact that she didn’t know that had no effect on his feelings. He could feel it in every fiber of his being, an unshakable certainty that pulled him toward her regardless of his feelings on the matter.

“Try and hold still. This is going to sting,” he said in a low rumble as he swabbed the wound clean.

Phoebe hissed softly as the antiseptic touched her skin but didn’t pull away. Her resilience was something Jonah had come to admire, even as it frustrated him. She didn’t back down, didn’t let the pain or the fear control her, and that strength drew him to her in ways he wasn’t ready to admit.

She reached up and knocked softly on his forehead. “Hello in there. You’ve been awfully quiet,” Phoebe said after a moment, watching him carefully. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Jonah glanced at her, his expression hard to read. “Just thinking.”

“About?” she pressed, her voice soft but insistent.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he finished wrapping the fresh bandage around her arm. “You.”

Phoebe blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Me?”

Jonah nodded, his hands stilling as he secured the bandage. “There’s more going on than even you may know.”

Her eyes searched his face, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. “What do you mean?”

Jonah stood, putting space between them as he paced toward the window. His broad shoulders were tense, his hands resting on the windowsill as he stared out at the forest beyond. “Your friend, Amelia. Did she tell you anything—about her and Carson?”

Phoebe frowned, confusion and wariness mingling in her gaze. “What are you talking about? What do Carson and Amelia have to do with any of this?”

“The sabotaged plane? Probably nothing,” Jonah said, changing his mind about telling her. The last thing she needed was for him to drop something like his being a shifter without the ability to talk it out. Now was not the time, and this was not the place.

Phoebe shook her head. “Then why bring it up?”

“Because when we get back to safety and you hand that thing off to whoever you need to hand it off to, we need to talk about last night… about us.”

“Okay, fine, but I don’t want you to think that I have any expectations about you based on what happened. We were both tired, stressed, and cold. I don’t know about you, but I enjoyed myself immensely. But it doesn’t mean I think you were making some kind of declaration.”

“What if I was?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable. Phoebe’s lips parted, but no sound came out as she tried to process what he’d said. Jonah turned back to face her, his expression unreadable.

Phoebe stared at him, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “And what if I wasn’t?”

Jonah’s eyes softened, though his voice remained steady. “I’ll still keep you alive. But don’t believe for even a minute that when we get you back to the Air Force that this will be finished. Last night won’t be enough—for either of us.”

His words seemed to strike her like a blow, and for the first time, Jonah saw something crack in her defenses. She took a hesitant step closer, her eyes shining with uncertainty and something deeper.

“I don’t know who to trust anymore,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But I believe I can trust you.”

Jonah exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he closed the distance between them. He cupped her face gently, his calloused fingers brushing her cheek as he met her gaze. “That will have…”

Suddenly, something in the forest drew his attention.

“That’s them, isn’t it? They’re close, aren’t they?” Phoebe whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jonah nodded, his hand tightening on the hilt of the knife he held. “And that’s on me. Stay close—no matter what happens.”

Phoebe looked at him, her eyes wide with fear but steady. “What are we going to do?”

Jonah glanced ahead, his sharp instincts calculating their next move. “We fight if we have to. Otherwise, we keep moving.” Jonah gathered their things while they got dressed and into their outerwear. “No matter what happens, you keep moving along that tree line into the morning sun. Got it?”

She nodded. They moved out quietly. He was surprised as he loaded their pack that she set out dishes and started the coffee. “Maybe they’ll think we’re coming right back,” she said in answer to his unasked question.

“Clever girl,” he said with a grin.

They slipped out the door and crossed the open field that surrounded the cabin, then made their way into the trees and headed east. The night before hadn’t done her any harm. In fact, both her mood and her physical condition seemed better.

All around them, the forest came alive with sound—branches snapping, heavy boots crashing through the snow to the frozen ground, and the distant echo of voices. Jonah scanned the dense underbrush, pulling Phoebe down to huddle beside him, her breath visible in the icy air. He could feel her tension, her body taut with adrenaline, but she stayed silent, trusting his lead.

The faint sound of a radio crackling followed by muffled words made him curse under his breath. The group had closed the gap faster than he’d anticipated. He’d spent too much time between her legs and then had wanted to get some rest. His heart pounded as he guided Phoebe deeper into the forest, using the terrain to mask their movements.

But the terrain turned against them. A sudden shout rang out, followed by the distinct crack of gunfire. The sharp sound echoed through the trees, and Phoebe stumbled as a branch splintered near her head.

“Move!” Jonah growled, pulling her behind a thick tree as more shots rang out. He peered around the trunk, his sharp eyes catching the glint of weapons in the distance.

“There’s too many,” Phoebe gasped, her voice laced with panic. “Jonah?—”

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

Before he could say more, a figure emerged from the shadows, rifle raised. Jonah reacted on instinct, lunging forward with deadly precision. Drawing a knife from his boot, Jonah stabbed it into the man’s shoulder, a grunt of pain barely having time to escape before Jonah withdrew the knife and pulled it across the assailant’s throat. The man fell back as Jonah turned, his movements fluid as another man charged, finding his blade before he could bring a gun to bear. Jonah caught the strike on his forearm, the assailant’s blade grazing Jonah’s skin before he slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, dropping him instantly.

Phoebe screamed behind him, and Jonah’s heart froze. He turned to see her struggling with an attacker, her fists flailing as the man tried to pin her down. Rage erupted within him, primal and uncontrollable. Jonah felt the familiar pull deep in his chest, the wild energy that came when he let his shifter side take over.

He managed to throw off his parka and boots before the mist rose from the ground, encompassing his body, swirling around him as his body began to shift. His skin burned, his muscles expanded, and his senses sharpened to a razor’s edge. Phoebe’s attacker jumped back. Jonah’s transformation was seamless, a surge of raw power that ended with his massive snow leopard form standing between Phoebe and her attacker.

The man froze, his eyes wide with terror as Jonah growled low in his throat, a sound that vibrated through the forest. He lunged, claws flashing, and the man screamed as Jonah struck him down with brutal efficiency.

Phoebe scrambled back, her eyes wide as she watched the snow leopard unleash its fury on their assailants. Two more men appeared, one firing a shot that grazed Jonah’s side, the other swinging a club. Jonah roared, the sound deafening, and pounced on the first, his claws raking across the man’s chest before he spun to slam his powerful body into the second, sending him crashing into a tree.

The fight was savage, a blur of claws, teeth, and blood. Jonah’s mind was a mix of instinct and strategy, every move calculated to protect Phoebe. His father’s lessons rang in his head—stay unpredictable, use the environment, and never leave your back exposed.

A final assailant charged with a knife, and Jonah caught him mid-stride, his jaws closing around the man’s arm with bone-crushing force. The man screamed, dropping his weapon as Jonah threw him aside like a rag doll. The remaining attackers scattered, their shouts fading as they fled into the forest.

Jonah turned, his body heaving with exertion, his eyes locking on Phoebe. She was on the ground, clutching her arm, blood seeping through her fingers. He padded closer, his massive frame lowering as he nuzzled her gently, a low, rumbling growl escaping his throat.

“What are you?” Phoebe’s voice was shaky, barely above a whisper as she looked around. “Jonah? Is that... you?”

He stepped back, the mist swirling around him again as his body shifted back to human form. Jonah stood before her, blood streaking his bare chest, his breathing heavy.

“It’s me,” he said, his voice rough, the look in his eyes softening as they met hers. It only took a few moments for Jonah to scavenge what clothes he needed from their attackers and to redress. He crouched beside her, his hands brushing her hair back from her face. “You’re hurt.”

Phoebe stared at him, her gaze flicking between his human form and the bloodied ground around them. “You’re some kind of mutant,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I prefer the term shifter, but yes,” Jonah admitted, his jaw tightening. “And you’re alive because of it.”

Phoebe exhaled shakily, her hand gripping his wrist as he examined her injury. “You’re... amazing,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Jonah froze, his heart twisting at the vulnerability in her voice. He leaned closer, his forehead touching hers for a brief moment. “You’re going to be fine, and we’ve shown them that trying to take us will be costly,” he murmured, his voice low and fierce. “We need to get away from this area.” He grabbed a scarf from one of the downed men. “Wrap this around your arm. Hold it tight. Once we’ve put some distance between us, I’ll take a look at it. You did well. Now let’s get out of here; I’ll keep you safe.”

The forest was eerily quiet as Jonah guided Phoebe through the dense underbrush, her steps faltering with every passing moment. He could feel the heat of her blood through his fingers where he steadied her, the injury on her arm still fresh and seeping through the makeshift bandage. His chest tightened with a mix of frustration and fear.

“We’re stopping here,” Jonah said, his voice firm as they reached a small, sheltered clearing. A cluster of thick pines loomed overhead, their branches creating a natural canopy that shielded them from view.

Phoebe shook her head weakly. “We can’t stop?—”

“Yes, we can,” Jonah interrupted, lowering her carefully onto a patch of moss. “You’re bleeding, and if you keep pushing yourself, you’ll pass out. Let me handle this.”

Phoebe opened her mouth to argue but stopped when she caught the sharp edge of his gaze. She sank back against the tree trunk with a reluctant sigh, her breathing shallow as Jonah huddled beside her.

“Let me see,” he said, his tone softer now. He peeled back the blood-soaked scarf, wincing inwardly at the sight of the jagged wound on her arm.

“You’re worse than a drill sergeant,” Phoebe muttered, her attempt at humor strained.

Jonah didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pulled a small med kit from his pack, his movements precise as he cleaned and rebandaged the wound. “You’ll thank me when you’re not dead,” he said finally, his voice low.

Phoebe managed a faint laugh, though her eyes glistened with exhaustion. “You’re full of charm, you know that?”

Jonah smiled faintly, his focus still on her arm. “I’ve got other priorities.” When he finished, he sat back on his heels, scanning her face. “How’s the pain?”

Phoebe shrugged, wincing slightly. “Manageable. For now.”

Jonah nodded, his jaw tightening as he weighed his next words. The truth was burning a hole in his chest, and after everything that had happened, he couldn’t hold it back any longer. “Phoebe,” he began, his voice unusually hesitant.

She looked at him, searching his face. “What is it?”

He exhaled slowly, his hand resting on his knee as he leaned closer. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should’ve told you before.”

Phoebe’s brows furrowed, but she said nothing, waiting.

“You’ve seen what I am,” Jonah said, his voice low and steady. “The snow leopard. That’s not just some anomaly. I’m a shifter.”

Phoebe’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t interrupt. Jonah took that as a sign to continue.

“There are others like me,” he said. “All over the world. Some live in shifter-only communities, places where humans never go. Others, like me, live among humans, hiding what we are.”

Phoebe’s lips parted, her breath catching. “And you’ve been hiding this your whole life?”

“Not my whole life,” Jonah admitted. “My father was a shifter, too. He taught me how to control it, how to use it to survive. But when he died...” Jonah’s voice trailed off, his jaw tightening. “I kept to myself. It was easier that way.”

Phoebe tilted her head, her eyes softening as she studied him. “You didn’t have to tell me this. Why now?”

Jonah hesitated, his chest tightening as he held her gaze. “Well, for one thing, you saw me shift, and I can’t keep lying to you,” he said finally. “And because I’m beginning to have feelings for you I’ve never had before. You and I are what my kind calls fated mates.”

Her breath hitched, her eyes widening. Jonah reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against her uninjured hand. “That sounds very gothic,” she said with a trembling smile.

“I know you’ve got your walls,” he said quietly. “I’ve got mine, too. But whatever this is between us, it’s real. And I’m done pretending it’s not.”

Phoebe stared at him, her chest rising and falling as she absorbed his words. “Jonah...” she began, her voice trembling. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start by trusting me,” Jonah said, his voice low but fierce. “I’ll protect you, no matter what. But you’ve got to let me in.”

Phoebe exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around his. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “Not just of what’s out there. Of this. Of us.”

Jonah leaned closer, his gaze steady and unyielding. “You don’t have to be,” he said. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Phoebe’s lips quirked into a faint, bittersweet smile. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re stubborn,” Jonah replied, his voice softening. “But that’s what makes you worth fighting for.” The tension between them thickened, the air charged with unspoken emotions and something deeper, primal. Jonah’s hand moved to her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin as he leaned in, his voice a low rumble. “You’re mine, Phoebe. Whether you’re ready to accept it or not.”

Phoebe didn’t respond with words. Instead, she closed the distance, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that spoke of both fear and longing. Jonah’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, the connection between them burning brighter than anything he’d ever felt.

For the first time since he’d learned of his father’s death, Jonah felt something other than survival. He felt alive. Now all he had to do was keep them both that way.