Page 45 of The Hyena’s Guardian

The corridor beyond the chamber narrowed sharply as they descended. Unlike the tunnels above, these passages looked untouched by excavation equipment or modern reinforcement. Ancient stone curved around them in smooth, deliberate arches while faded markings covered portions of the walls beneath centuries of water damage.

Theron moved quickly despite the injuries crossing his body, though Matt noticed the strain becoming harder to hide now that the immediate fight had ended. His breathing sounded rougher again, and fresh blood darkened the black fur along one side where the hungry ones had managed to tear into him earlier.

Theron stumbled again, the misstep lasting barely half a step before he corrected it, but Matt caught the strain behind it instantly.

“Stop,” he said.

Theron kept moving.

“Theron.”

Theron slowed reluctantly several yards farther down the corridor before turning back toward him. “Not here. We need distance first.”

“You’re bleeding through half your side.”

“I'll heal.”

“That is not actually the same thing as being fine.”

Theron’s pale eyes narrowed, though the reaction looked more tired than defensive now. “You should worry about yourself.”

Matt almost laughed at that. “You shoved me out of the way of homicidal cave creatures twice in the last twenty minutes. I feel like we’re well past the point of pretending this situation is emotionally detached.”

For a moment Theron simply stared at him.

Then another tremor rolled through the catacombs, violent enough that both of them instinctively caught themselves against the walls while dust poured from the ceiling overhead.

The roar rolled through the stone with enough force to vibrate beneath Matt’s boots.

Theron looked back toward the darkness they had come from before finally giving a short irritated growl. “Fine.”

Matt stepped closer carefully once Theron stopped moving.

Up close, the damage looked worse than he originally realized. Deep claw marks crossed Theron’s ribs beneath the fur, some partially healed while others still bled sluggishly down his side. One wound near his shoulder looked jagged enough that Matt suspected something had nearly torn the entire muscle open.

“You’ve been fighting these things alone for how long?” Matt asked softly.

Theron’s hand drifted unconsciously toward one of the older scars crossing his ribs. “Long enough.”

Matt let out a quiet breath. “Still hate that answer.”

He unclipped the small medical pouch attached to his vest and crouched beside him near the corridor wall. The confined tunnel suddenly felt much smaller with Theron sitting this close. Even injured, he radiated a dangerous physical presence Matt remained painfully aware of every second they occupied the same space.

Theron watched him carefully while Matt pulled gauze and antiseptic from the pouch.

“You carry healing supplies?” Theron asked.

Matt glanced up briefly while pulling gauze from the medical pouch attached to his vest.

“Five years in the Army teaches you how to patch people together whether it’s technically your job or not,” he said.

The wounds pulled an old memory to the surface. Lucero bleeding into the Iraqi dirt. Matt hauling him toward Mac and Melvin while mortar rounds still fell around them. Blood everywhere. The laminated card. A man everyone thought was dying who somehow walked away.

Matt pushed the memory aside and focused on the wounds crossing Theron’s ribs instead.

“You learn fast or people die.”

Something shifted subtly across Theron’s expression at that. Matt could not tell whether it was respect or that same unsettling recognition he had seen earlier.