Page 90 of The Hyena’s Guardian

The hyena, usually sharp and restless beneath his skin, had gone strangely quiet since the cave. Not asleep, never that. More like it had curled somewhere deep inside his chest, watching Theron through Matt’s eyes with patient certainty.

Mine was not the right word.

Matt knew that. He knew it with the rational part of his brain that had survived combat, bad decisions, and several years of pretending he was less lonely than he was. People were not possessions. Theron sure as hell was not anyone’s possession.

But the feeling inside him did not speak in civilized language. It felt like standing between Theron and anything that wanted to hurt him. It felt like teeth. It felt like devotion with claws. Matt exhaled and tried to get his head back in the game.

“The others are going to notice,” Matt said.

Theron glanced back at him. “Notice what?”

Matt gave him a look. “Really?”

“That is not an answer.”

“They’re going to notice you don’t look like you’re one bad day away from ripping the mountain in half.”

This time Theron slowed.

Matt almost wished he had kept his mouth shut. Then again, maybe not.

Theron turned just enough for the blue crystal light to cut across his face. In the dimness, Matt could see the difference more clearly now. The strange darkness that had once threaded beneath Theron’s skin had faded to little more than faint shadows, and although exhaustion still lingered in his ancient eyes, they seemed clearer than before. More aware. More like the man Matt was beginning to know beneath all the damage.

Theron’s expression remained unreadable for a long moment. “Is that what I looked like?” he asked.

Matt stepped closer, his voice gentler when he answered. “Sometimes.”

Theron’s gaze drifted down the tunnel.

Matt let the silence stretch for a few steps before adding, “For what it’s worth, you look better now.”

Theron’s mouth moved faintly. “Better?”

“Less cursed.”

“That is your compliment?”

“I’m still workshopping it.”

Theron made a low sound that might have become a laugh under less miserable circumstances. Matt decided to count it as a victory anyway.

They continued toward camp, guided by the distant glow of lanterns and low voices filtering through the stone. The closer they got, the more Matt felt the mood shifting ahead of them. The camp was awake now. Not loudly, not chaotically, but with the controlled tension of trained people trying very hard not to panic.

That killed the warmth in his chest quickly.

Theron felt it too. His posture changed before they reached the final turn, all lingering ease narrowing back into focus.

Matt hated how quickly it disappeared. He understood it. He even respected it. But he hated it.

They stepped out from the tunnel into the main chamber where the Valker team had made camp beneath a row of broken arches. Gear had already been packed. Lanterns were being shuttered. Two agents studied routes on a tablet while another cinched down a weapons case.

Baptiste glanced up first.

His eyes flicked briefly from Theron to Matt, taking in the clean clothes, the damp hair, and the unmistakable ease that had settled between them. One corner of his mouth threatened to lift before he buried it beneath practiced professionalism.

Vale followed his gaze. Whatever she noticed, she kept it to herself.

“Enjoy your bath?” Baptiste asked mildly.