Page 115 of The Hyena’s Guardian

Grief crashed through the bond with enough force to stagger Matt.

Beneath all Theron’s control lived centuries of guilt packed down hard enough to become part of him.

And below them stood the physical remains of everyone he had failed to save. Another chain snapped. The throne platform lurched several feet lower toward the abyss. The entire chamber began shaking harder now.

Baptiste looked toward Theron sharply. “If we wait any longer, the seal collapses completely.”

Matt looked from the throne to Theron.

Nothing about Theron’s plan had changed.

He still intended to die here.

The realization hit with enough force that Matt barely noticed the hyena rising hard beneath his skin again, driven not by rage this time but by absolute refusal.

“No,” Matt said.

Theron finally looked toward him.

Matt stepped directly in front of him before the older wolf could say a word. “You are not doing this alone.”

“Matt—”

“No.” His voice sharpened hard enough that even Vale glanced toward them. “You don’t get to decide your life stopped mattering centuries ago and call that nobility.”

The creature below them hissed violently. “My king,” it repeated.

Matt ignored it completely. “You are not responsible for what he became,” Matt said, holding Theron’s gaze. “And you do not get to throw yourself into this mountain because you inherited his blood.”

The bond pulsed violently between them, strong enough that Matt felt Theron’s control beginning to fracture around the edges.

Fear surged through the bond, followed by something far more dangerous. Hope. Buried so deeply Theron no longer seemed to recognize it.

The throne chamber shook again beneath their feet.

Then the First King laughed.

***

The First King’s laughter rolled through the throne chamber, deep enough to vibrate through the bridges.

Every corrupted creature in the room dropped lower. Not fear. Submission.

The thing standing on the bridge below them bowed its ruined head so deeply its claws scraped against the stone. Around the chamber, more shapes emerged from the abyss walls and broken passageways, gathering silently beneath the throne platform while the mountain trembled around them.

Ready for his command.

Matt stepped closer to Theron automatically.

The bond pulsed sharply again the instant their shoulders brushed, and this time the reaction spread beyond the two of them. The chains surrounding the throne screamed violently against the stone while the red glow beneath the abyss flickered erratically, as though something deep below had suddenly lost rhythm.

The reaction rippled through the chamber. Every corrupted wolf froze where it stood. Several staggered as though the pulse had struck them physically, their heads jerking toward the throne before they regained their footing. Even the breathing rising from the abyss faltered for a single heartbeat.

Matt felt it through the bond before anyone else seemed to understand what had happened. He understood the reaction through the bond before anyone else did. Each time he and Theron chose one another over fear, duty, and everything the mountain expected of them, something inside the prison lost its rhythm.

The First King did not control the bond.

He hated it.