Page 46 of The Hyena’s Guardian

Matt carefully pushed aside the torn fur surrounding the worst injury near Theron’s ribs. The moment Matt’s fingers brushed exposed skin beneath the torn fur, Theron jerked sharply beneath the contact while a low involuntary growl vibrated through his chest. Matt froze instantly. “Okay,” he said carefully. “That sounded concerning.”

Theron’s breathing had changed again, but not with aggression.

If anything, the restraint in it felt far more dangerous.

The pale eyes locked onto Matt with sudden intensity while every muscle along Theron’s body tightened beneath the partially shifted frame, like he was holding himself still through sheer force of will alone.

Then, very carefully, Theron leaned backward away from his hand.

The movement carried so much visible restraint that Matt understood what it had cost him.

“Oh,” he said softly.

The realization settled between them.

What Matt felt pulling between them had nothing to do with fear or violence. Now that the adrenaline had finally lowered enough to let him think clearly, he realized every time they touched, something reacted beneath his skin with instinctive certainty powerful enough to cut through exhaustion, danger, and common sense all at once.

Theron looked away first. “That is dangerous,” he said.

Matt kept his hand near the wound without touching him again. “You keep saying things like that right before refusing to explain them.”

Theron released another low growl that sounded more frustrated with himself than threatening. “You should not have come here.”

“Well, unfortunately nobody mentioned ancient underground murder kingdoms in the mission briefing.”

A faint shift crossed Theron’s expression before his gaze drifted toward the darkness beyond the chamber entrance. “It was not always this way,” he said after a moment. “Long ago, many who came here believed they could free the First King from beneath the mountain. When they failed, they became trapped here with him.”

Matt slowed while cleaning the blood from Theron’s side. “The things chasing us?”

“Some were followers once,” Theron said. “Others came later. Time changed all of them.” His jaw tightened faintly. “Whatever loyalty existed between them died long ago. Now they survive beside each other because leaving is impossible.”

In that moment, Theron looked less like a creature surviving inside the catacombs and more like a man trying very hard to remember how to be one again.

Matt carefully resumed cleaning the wound, slower this time. “This might sting.”

Theron snorted softly. “You think a little pain matters now?”

“Emotionally or medically?”

That finally earned an actual reaction. A low rough sound escaped Theron again, quieter this time and unmistakably amused despite the exhaustion pulling at him. Matt felt something warm settle unexpectedly beneath his ribs at the sound.

Then Theron suddenly went still.

The change happened instantly. Every trace of amusement vanished while his head lifted sharply toward the darkness farther down the corridor.

Matt saw it. “What?”

Theron’s eyes narrowed. “They found us again.”

Matt sealed the bandage over the worst of the wound and leaned back. “That’ll have to do.”

Theron nodded once before rising to his feet.

Matt slung the medical pouch back onto his vest and followed.

The corridor shook beneath them as they pushed deeper into the catacombs.

This time the tremor carried longer than the others, rolling through the stone in slow violent waves that made the ancient walls groan around them. Dust drifted steadily from the ceiling overhead while distant sounds echoed through the tunnels behind them: collapsing stone, shrieking creatures, and somewhere beneath all of it, the low thunderous roar continuing to rise from the depths below.