?Chapter 846:


    Jett rubbed his bloodshot eyes, fatigue etched into the lines of his face. “Indeed. Brute force would be suicide. We need something more cunning—a n withyers.”


    After weighing our limited options, we hammered out a strategy.


    “Tomorrow, we’ll visit the herbal shops to gather ingredients for the disguise magic potion,” Jett outlined, his tactical mind cutting through our exhaustion. “Once everything’s in ce, we’ll seize our opportunity to secure the pass.”


    We slipped back to our makeshift sanctuary beneath the bridge, moving like ghosts through the darkness.


    The wind’s icy fingers wed more fiercely here, sending violent shivers cascading through my body. Unable to endure the cold’s merciless grip any longer, I desperately searched for anything to kindle a small fire.


    As I bent to gather some fallen twigs, Jett stopped me, saying, “A fire’s glow would be a beacon in this darkness. We can’t risk discovery, not when we’re so close.”


    I sighed in resignation, abandoning the hope of warmth. All I could do was curl inward, my body trembling uncontrobly against the night’s bitter chill.


    Jett observed my misery with softening eyes, and then, with a resigned sigh, shrugged off his coat and draped it over my shoulders. His hands lingered briefly as he wrapped it securely around me.


    Warmth enveloped me instantly—not just from the fabric, but from Jett’s lingering body heat. His scent permeated the coat, a distinctive blend of pine needles and the faintest hint of earthy sweat, somehow both wild andforting.


    “You’re cold too. I don’t want it.”


    My cheeks burned despite the chill as I attempted to return his coat.


    Makenna’s POV:


    As I moved to return Jett’s coat, he reached out, his touch light yet firm, and draped it back over my shoulders with quiet insistence.


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    “I’m not cold. The wind’s still blowing—it’s keeping me awake. You should rest. I’ll keep watch.”


    I wanted to refuse, but in the movement, our fingertips brushed—just a fleeting touch, yet it sent heat spiraling through me, an ember rekindling a long-smothered me.


    Startled, I jerked my hand back, but Jett was faster. His long fingers wrapped securely around mine, his grip both unyielding and careful. I lifted my gaze, only to be caught in the intensity of his stare—dark, searing, and full of something possessive, something that made my breath hitch.


    “Sorry…” Jett murmured suddenly, his voice hoarse with restraint.


    For a brief moment, I stood frozen, his words barely registering. Then, in the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between us, and his lips crashed onto mine with a fiery intensity, raw and unrestrained.


    My mind reeled, a whirlwind of confusion and resistance, and instinct took over—I struggled, pushing against him in a desperate attempt to break free.


    But Jett only tightened his hold, drawing me firmly against him. His breath, warm and unsteady, brushed against my ear as he murmured in a raw, husky voice, “Makenna, I’ve held back for so long… I can’t anymore…”


    His voice, thick with longing, sent shivers down my spine. “I think about kissing you all the time… about what we didst time. I can’t stop.”


    As he spoke, his arms tightened, molding me against him as if he wanted to fuse our very beings. Then, he kissed me again—deeper this time, more desperate, like a man starved.


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