Jarek’s jaw tightened. Fuck he hated this. Hated that she was out there alone, and they knew she was being hunted—and not just by them.

Didn’t like—

The thought cut off hard. Because it hit with no warning. Just—impact.

Jarek’s breath locked in his chest as something slammed through him, sharp and sudden, like a hook sinking deep and yanking hard.

Not pain.

Not exactly.

This was pure and raw, and it came with an immediate, unfiltered connection. His hand braced against the car beneath him as his body reacted before his mind caught up, muscles tightening, breath stuttering once before he forced it back under control.

“Jarek.” Aleksy’s voice cut through, sharp now, focused.

Jarek barely heard him. Because all he could feel was—her. Pain—sharp along his side, not his, but close enough that his body reacted like it was. Fatigue—held back, forced down, ignored. And underneath it—control. Tight but fraying at the edges.

“Jesus,” he muttered, voice rough.

The connection was strong, and uncontrolled in any way, as if she were no longer strangling that connection with him, like up until this point she had been fighting it instead of letting it take her under.

“She’s in trouble,” Aleksy said.

Jarek let out a harsh breath. “Yeah, no shit.”

But that wasn’t it, at least not all of it. His fingers curled into fists, grounding himself as the pull sharpened again, dragging his focus in a direction he didn’t question.

Didn’t need to.

Because this—this wasn’t tracking anymore. This was instinct.

“She’s in trouble, fighting,” he said.

Aleksy was already moving. “Get in.”

Jarek didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate. He pushed off the car and moved, sliding into the passenger seat as Aleksy brought the engine to life in one smooth motion.

“Go straight,” Jarek said immediately.

Aleksy didn’t question it. Didn’t ask.

He drove.

Jarek leaned forward slightly, elbows braced against his knees, focus narrowing as the pull shifted, adjusted, guided.

“Left,” he said.

Aleksy took it. Hard. Tires biting as they cut through the intersection. The connection pulsed again. It was growing stronger the closer they got.

Jarek’s jaw tightened as it hit deeper this time, less ignorable, more—demanding.

“She’s hurt, bleeding,” he said, quieter now.

Aleksy’s grip tightened on the wheel. “Where?”

“Side. Shoulder. Doesn’t matter.”

Well, yes, it did, and once they found out who had done it, they would rip him limb from limb and dine on the bastard’s liver, a personal favorite of his boar, but not right now.

Right now—

“She’s holding it together,” Jarek added.

Barely. But she was, and that mattered more than anything.

“Right,” he said, voice sharpening. “Take the next right—then straight. Don’t slow down.”

Aleksy didn’t. The truck surged forward, engine pushing hard as the city blurred around them. Jarek’s focus tunneled. The world outside reduced to movement and direction and the steady, relentless pull dragging him forward.

“Closer,” he muttered.

Aleksy didn’t respond. Didn’t need to.

He felt it too. Not the same way. But enough.

“Stop,” Jarek said suddenly.

Aleksy braked hard, the truck skidding slightly before settling. Jarek was already out. The building in front of them looked abandoned, but he knew she was in there.

The pull hit again. Hard.

Jarek didn’t slow. He hit the door. Metal buckled under the force, the lock giving with a sharp crack as he drove through it, Aleksy right behind him. They moved down a hallway, the scent of dust and decay ripe in the air, but beneath it a thread of something that had his boar pushing to be let loose. It was the scent of their mate’s blood.

They charged into a room at the end of the hall, and Jarek saw her first. Not the hybrids he could sense in the room or the space itself. For a moment, all he was her. Her. In the center of it all, fighting,

Her movements looked tight, and her posture told him she was compensating. Favoring her side.

There was wet blood at her shoulder, but still—still cutting through them like she refused to go down any other way.

Something in his chest snapped. Hard.

He and Aleksy didn’t wait a second longer. The first hybrid went down under his hands, force driven by his rage driving through bone and muscle as he took it out fast, efficient, brutal.

Aleksy was already engaging the others, precision cutting through what Jarek broke apart.

And her—Tamsin—their Tamsin, she didn’t hesitate. Didn’t falter. The second they entered her space—she adjusted.

Shifted.

Opened.

Like she knew how to fight with them. Like she’d done it before. Jarek clocked it instantly. Stored it.

Because that wasn’t coincidence. That was—expectation.

Her gaze snapped to him as she drove her blade home, breath sharper now but controlled—and her lips curved. “About damn time you showed up.”

Jarek stilled for half a second not physically, because he was pissed and these things tried to hurt his mate, so he was still swinging, but his head stilled.

Because—she wasn’t surprised.

Not even a little.

No confusion. No question. Just—timing.

Like she’d known they’d get there. His grin came slow. Dangerous.

“Yeah?” he shot back, taking down another hybrid. “You send an invite?”

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But it didn’t land like dismissal. It landed like deflection. Jarek filed that away for later. The fight closed in again. Another hybrid lunged for Aleksy—fast, angled—Jarek moved—too late.

But she wasn’t. Tamsin stepped in, fast and precise, her blade driving clean through the hybrid before it could make contact.

It dropped. Aleksy didn’t even break stride.

Jarek huffed a sharp breath.

“Careful,” he muttered, glancing at him. “Almost got yourself killed.”

Aleksy didn’t look at him. “I had it.”

“Sure you did.”

Another one came in—Jarek took it. Aleksy cut it down.

Tamsin pivoted through the gap they created—and just like that—it was over.

Silence hit.

Jarek’s breathing slowed, control settling back in as he rolled his shoulders once, gaze shifting back to her.

Still standing. Still steady. Still not backing down.

And now—now the fight was done. They finally had her.

Not a shadow. Not a trail. Not a ghost.

Her.

And this time—she wasn’t getting away.