Page 94 of The Hyena’s Guardian

Theron intercepted the creature before it reached the defensive line. He was not fully shifted, but neither was he entirely human anymore. His body moved with violent speed as one hand closed around the creature’s throat and drove it backward into the wall hard enough to rattle the chamber.

The creature shrieked, a sound threaded with rage, grief, and something far too human to hear comfortably.

Matt started toward them.

Vale stepped into his path, one forearm across his chest.

“Don’t.”

“Theron.”

“Do not get between them.”

Every instinct screamed at him to push past her. His muscles tensed, but years of training held. Barely.

“Look at him,” Matt said, unable to tear his eyes away.

“I am,” Vale replied.

Theron had the creature pinned against the stone, but his face had changed. Not physically, not in the obvious way, but something ancient and predatory had surfaced behind his eyes. Theron’s wolf was no longer something contained beneath the surface. It was looking out through him.

Matt felt it from across the chamber like standing too close to a roaring fire.

The creature clawed at Theron’s arm, tearing through fabric and skin. Theron did not flinch. “Who were you?” Theron demanded.

The creature writhed, choking on a broken laugh. “Forgotten.”

Theron’s grip tightened. “Who were you?”

The creature’s eyes flickered. For one second, the gold dimmed. Something else looked out. Someone else. The chamber seemed to still around that fragile shift. Even the agents holding the defensive line went motionless.

The creature’s mouth trembled. “Aric,” it whispered.

Theron’s face changed.

Matt watched the name land. It cut through centuries. The feral rage faltered beneath sudden, devastating recognition.

“Aric,” Theron said, and the sound of that name in his voice hurt to hear.

The creature’s eyes filled with panic. “Kill me.”

No one moved.

Aric swallowed hard, trembling against Theron’s grip. “Please…” His voice cracked. “Before there’s nothing left of me.”

Theron’s hand trembled around Aric’s throat.

Matt understood then with sick clarity that Aric had mattered to Theron. Not as a legend. Not as some distant casualty buried by time. Aric had stood beside him.

Maybe he’d failed him. Maybe he’d mourned him. Or maybe he’d never known there was anything left to mourn. The mountain rumbled again. The gold returned to Aric’s eyes. His body convulsed.

“Theron,” Matt said.

Theron looked over his shoulder.

Matt did not know what his face revealed, but he poured something steadier than either command or pity into his voice.

“Come back to me.”