Four

JAXON

A few hours before,

"Jax?!"

Dante's voice cut through the fog in my head, laced with concern. His footsteps were urgent as he stepped into my office, glancing around. He couldn't see me—not at first.

I was slipping. Again.

My vision flickered between reality and the void, the cursed abyss where my wolf had been torn from me. The air felt thin, like I was being pulled under water. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to hold on.

"Jax, come on, don't scare me."

His voice wavered as he stopped in front of my desk, scanning the room.

"I'm here," I croaked, anchoring myself back into reality.

Dante released a sigh of relief when he finally saw me.

"Are you okay?" He asked, and I grunted, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"For how long were you slipping this time?" He said as he poured me a glass of water and handed it over to me.

"Maybe thirty minutes?" I croaked, bringing the rim of the glass to my lips.

"It's getting worse. The old woman was right," he muttered.

I didn't respond. What could I say? That I already knew? That I felt it every time my soul teetered on the edge of the void?

This curse was my punishment for shifting under the wrong moon. My wolf had been torn from me, left howling in the abyss between life and death, and now, piece by piece, it was dragging me with it. The more I slipped, the closer I came to losing myself entirely.

My father had seen the curse as a weakness, a sickness that could spread. He had no use for a son who might take the entire pack down with him. So he exiled me.

I should have died out there. But instead, I found others who had been cast aside—warriors, assassins, and rogues. They followed me. Fought for me. Trusted me to lead them. I became their Alpha.

Yet even now, the curse threatened to take everything away.

Only a few days ago, I'd met an old witch who'd told me that I would meet the only person that could save me. She'd been vague about it, but when I'd met the breathless, purple-eyed lady, I'd sensed that the witch had spoken of her. The prospect of having a fated mate was supposed to be impossible. I was incomplete, the mating bond shouldn't have recognised me.

And that night, I'd been under the influence of the curse when I'd claimed her body. My guilt knew no bounds.

I could still remember the pleading look on her face and the tears in her deep purple eyes. I'd never seen anyone with such a colour of eyes. Such beautiful eyes.

Was she doing okay?

"Is it really okay to leave your mate in the hands of your brother and his pack? Aren't you curious about who she is?" Dante asked, and I sighed, rubbing my temples. I didn't want her to be somehow linked with me in any way, not while the curse still thrived. I should've rejected her that night.

The door burst open, and Dorian, Dante's twin, stepped in, a worried look on his face.

"She will be executed soon," he said, and I frowned, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your mate. Jaxon, you can't lose her. The old woman—" he started to say, and I rose to my feet, my wolf stirring inside of me.

"It doesn't matter. I can't claim her, but I can save her. Give me the details on the way," I said, and the twins nodded curtly.

...

Back to the present,

    Fury gnawed at my insides at the sight of the state of my mate. Her body quivered with fear as she looked up at me with teary eyes.

"How dare you step into this place?!" Garrick, my older brother demanded, and I blinked, unimpressed by his sudden outburst.

"She belongs to me," I said, and his eyes darkened.

"How so? She's carrying another man's child. She probably slept with—" he started to say, further aggravating my rage.

"Silence," I ordered, suppressing him under the weight of my command.

The crowd went quiet as well, the putrid smell of their fear assaulting my nostrils. It took me so much effort not to lose my cool right then.

Quietly, I scooped her into my arms and straightened, my chest tightening when I noticed how malnourished she looked.

If I'd heard them right, she was pregnant with my child. My offspring.

My heart sank.

I'd dragged her into my own world now.

"If she leaves, she must never return!" Kieran, my nephew spat, and the twins growled at him, ready to annihilate him if I wished it.

"She doesn't deserve to be with monsters like you," I said and walked away, ignoring the stares that lingered on me.

"Thank you," my mate croaked, her eyes red-rimmed. I stayed silent knowing I didn't deserve her gratitude.

...

I was in my office when I heard the knock on my door. I'd asked Dorian to take my mate to the medical center to make sure she was alright. Therefore, I wasn't awaiting any visitors.

"Come in," I said, and the door creaked open.

My mate walked in. She was wearing cleaner clothes, and her black beanie was hiding her silver hair.

"Dorian told me I would find you here," she said, and I stayed silent, not wanting her to believe that I was willing to take her in.

"Thank you for—"

I cut her off, returning my gaze to the file in my hand.

"You don't have to thank me. I was just doing what's right," I deadpanned.

"Right. You probably already know that I'm your mate. My name's Clarissa. I am the daughter of the previous Alpha of Mount Veil Pack," she said.

My head snapped up, my stare locking onto hers. I hadn't been aware that the previous Alpha had a daughter. And considering how Garrick had treated her—had he played a role in her father's death?

Rage slowly coiled inside me.

If my brother had orchestrated the downfall of Mount Veil's Alpha and then tortured his daughter—my mate—I would rip him apart.

"You owe me an apology," she continued, and my gaze met hers.

Despite what she'd just gone through, there was an undying spark in her eyes. For a moment, I allowed myself to admire her.

"An apology?" I said, leaning back on my seat.

With a blank look on her face, she moved towards my desk and stopped in front of it.

"You took advantage of me, got me pregnant, and almost made me take the fall for your crime," she said without batting an eyelash.

I was surprised but refused to show it.

"What crime?" I asked, cocking my head.

"You stole the moonstone," she droned.

"I must admit that I intended to steal it, but it was gone before then—"

The rest of the words died in my throat as she stepped around my desk and grabbed me by the front of my shirt. For some reason, I found that hot.

"You're quite shameless, aren't you, old geezer?" She stated, and my right eye twitched.

Did she just call me an old geezer?

She looked young. Probably nineteen or twenty.

Even so, I was barely in my late twenties.

"Fine. I'll apologize—"

Again, she cut me off. I should've felt annoyed. However, all I felt was amusement.

"No, that's too easy."

Her gaze dipped to my lips for a moment before flickering to my eyes. Then she leaned in. She was so close, I could smell her vanilla and coconut scent. My wolf stirred, pushing to the surface of my consciousness as desire surged within me.

She was beautiful, every inch of her face a work of art.

"I want something else," she stated, and I sucked in a sharp breath, keeping my expressions schooled.

"And what's that?" I asked, and the spark in her eyes grew.