[POV: REMI]

"Is this the part where you tell me you're having the time of your life, or should I just keep guessing?"

I turned toward the voice, my silk slip dress shifting against my thighs like a second, cooler skin. The air in the penthouse was a pressurized chamber of bass, expensive gin, and sweat. My heart wasn't just beating; it was a rhythmic hammer against my ribs, a dull ache that radiated through my chest.

"I'm fine, Leo," I said, tilting my head. My throat felt tight, as if a pair of invisible hands were slowly closing around my windpipe. "Better than fine. I'm free."

Leo, the captain of the rival city’s team, leaned against the marble counter. He smelled of sea salt and clean linen, a stark, refreshing contrast to the dark, suffocating musk that usually haunted my lungs. My palms, usually slick with cold sweat when I was near the mansion, were finally dry.

"You don't look free," Leo remarked, his eyes tracing the line of my jaw. "You look like someone waiting for the floor to drop out."

"Maybe I like the drop," I countered. I took a sip of my drink, the liquid burning a cold trail down my throat.

The room was a blur of neon and shadow. I could feel the eyes of the city's elite on me, the "little sister" finally stepping out of the MVP’s shadow. My skin felt electric, a thousand tiny sparks dancing under the surface. It was a rebellion. Every breath I took in this room was a strike against the silence Jaxson had tried to drown me in.

"He’s going to come for you," Leo whispered, stepping closer.

His proximity didn't trigger the fire. The mark on my neck remained dormant, a cold piece of lead beneath my hair. It was a relief so sharp it almost brought tears to my eyes. I wanted this. I wanted to be near someone who didn't make my blood boil and my soul scream.

"Let him," I said, my voice gaining a jagged edge. "I want him to see. I want him to know that I’m not a prop he can just leave in a basement."

"You're bold tonight, Remi." Leo reached out, his thumb grazing the skin of my wrist.

The touch was light, almost nothing, yet my heart jolted. Not with desire, but with the sheer, terrifying realization of what I was doing. I was playing with a wildfire, standing in the middle of a dry forest with a handful of matches.

"I'm tired of being afraid," I lied.

The lie tasted like copper in my mouth. My stomach twisted, a hard knot of dread forming in the pit of my gut. My ears began to ring, a high-pitched drone that started to drown out the thumping bass of the party.

Then, the vibration started.

It wasn't the music. It wasn't the movement of the crowd. It was a low, sub-audible frequency that hummed through the soles of my feet, crawling up my calves and settling in my marrow. The floorboards seemed to moan under the weight of an approaching storm.

"Do you hear that?" Leo asked, his posture straightening, his eyes darting toward the heavy oak doors of the penthouse.

"I feel it," I whispered.

The air in the room suddenly turned freezing. The scent of dark chocolate and ozone—heavy, oppressive, and violent—ripped through the aroma of the party. It was a physical force, a tidal wave of pheromones that made the other guests stagger.

The heavy doors didn't just open; they were thrown back with such force the handles embedded themselves in the drywall.

Jaxson stood there.

He didn't look like a hockey star. He looked like a god of war who had lost his way in a neon wasteland. His eyes were glowing, two embers of amber light that locked onto me with the precision of a heat-seeking missile.

[POV: JAXSON]

"Get your hands off her before I tear them from your shoulders."

The words didn't feel like they came from my throat. They came from the beast that had been clawing at my chest since the moment I realized she had left the house. My blood was a river of liquid fire, surging through my veins until I thought my skin would split from the pressure.

I stepped into the room, and the crowd parted like water before a shark. I didn't see the faces. I didn't see the luxury. I only saw her.

And him.

The sight of Leo’s hand near her skin was a physical wound. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until it bruised. The mark on my neck was no longer burning; it was screaming. A white-hot agony that blinded me, leaving only the scent of her as my guide.

"She’s a guest, Jaxson," Leo said, though his voice wavered. He stepped in front of her, a pathetic shield. "She doesn't belong to you."

"You have no idea what belongs to me," I growled.

The floor vibrated with every step I took. My lungs felt like they were filled with broken glass, each breath a sharp, biting reminder of the distance between us. I could smell the sea salt on her now—the scent of him clinging to the silk of her dress.

It made me want to burn the building to the ground.

"Remi, we're leaving," I commanded. My voice was a jagged rasp, stripped of any humanity.

She didn't move. She didn't flinch. She stood there, her small frame framed by the city lights, her honey-gold eyes wide and defiant.

"No," she said.

The word was a bullet. It hit me square in the chest, stopping my momentum. The silence that followed was deafening, a vacuum that sucked the oxygen out of the room.

"What did you say?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper that made the people nearest us flee toward the balcony.

"I said no," she repeated, her voice steady, cold as the ice I lived on. "I'm not your lucky charm. I'm not your prop. And I'm certainly not your sister."

The revelation of the blood test hung in the air, a hidden blade finally drawn. I felt the shock ripple through me, a cold drenching of my rage. She knew. She had found out the lie I had been guarding like a dragon over its gold.

"You don't know what you're talking about," I hissed, taking another step forward.

"I know that you've been lying to me since the day our parents married," she said, her voice rising, cutting through the heavy atmosphere. "I know that there is no blood between us. Which makes this—" she gestured to the space between us, to the invisible, agonizing bond— "so much worse."

She stepped around Leo, walking right into my personal space. She was so close I could see the pulse jumping in the hollow of her throat. She was so close I could feel the heat radiating from her body, a siren call to my soul.

"Are you going to drag me out in front of everyone, Jaxson?" she challenged. "Are you going to show them exactly how much of a monster you are?"

My hand twitched. My claws were itching to emerge, to claim, to mark. But I stayed my hand. The power was shifting. She was holding the leash now, and she knew it.

"You're making a scene," I managed to say, my jaw aching from the effort of not lunging.

"I'm making a choice," she snapped. "And my choice isn't you."

She turned her back on me.

She turned her back on the bond.

I felt a roar build in my chest, a primal, devastating sound that shook my very foundation. The world turned red. The scent of Leo’s sea salt on her skin became an insult I could no longer endure.

[POV: REMI]

I took a step away from him, my legs feeling like they were made of lead. My heart was a frantic drum, a chaotic rhythm that made my head spin. I had done it. I had faced the monster and walked away.

But the air behind me didn't move. It ignited.

Before I could take a second step, a hand wrapped around my upper arm. It wasn't a shove or a pull; it was a total claim. Jaxson swung me around with a grace that was terrifying, pinning me against the marble pillar that stood in the center of the room.

"Leo, move," Jaxson said, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Jaxson, stop it—" Leo started, but Jaxson didn't even look at him. He just threw a backhand that sent the other man sprawling across the floor.

"I won't tell you again," Jaxson growled.

I was trapped. His body was a wall of muscle and heat, pressing me into the cold stone. I could feel the individual buttons of his shirt pressing into my chest. The scent of him was a drug, a thick, intoxicating cloud that began to dissolve my resolve.

My hands came up to push him away, but they ended up gripping his forearms. His muscles were like cords of steel, vibrating with a tension that felt like it could shatter the room.

"Let go," I whispered, but my voice lacked the fire it had moments ago. The mate-mark was winning. It was pulsing a rhythmic heat into my nervous system, turning my bones to wax.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I looked. I looked into the eyes of the man who had lied to me my entire life. I looked into the eyes of the man who was currently destroying my only chance at a normal life.

"You smell like him," he whispered.

His voice had changed. It was no longer a roar. It was a low, velvet promise. He reached up, his hand moving slowly, deliberately. I expected a strike. I expected him to shake me.

Instead, his large, calloused hand slid around my throat.

He didn't squeeze. He didn't choke. His thumb rested right over my windpipe, his fingers splayed across the back of my neck, covering the burning mark with his palm. It was the most possessive, terrifyingly gentle gesture I had ever experienced.

"I can smell the salt on your skin," he breathed, leaning down until his lips were a hair’s breadth from mine. "I can smell where he touched your wrist. It’s like a rot in the air."

My breath hitched. My heart skipped three beats in a row. The electricity between us was no longer a spark; it was a localized lightning storm. I could feel the hair on my arms standing up. I could feel the moisture return to my palms, but this time it wasn't cold. It was hot.

"I don't care," I choked out, though the lie was so thin it was transparent.

"Liar," he whispered.

He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against mine. The tip of his tongue flicked out, tasting the air between us. I felt a shiver cascade down my spine, a violent, beautiful tremor that made my knees buckle.

He held me up by the throat, his grip tightening just enough to let me know I was his. The world around us—the party, the music, the gasping guests—vanished. There was only the stone at my back and the fire in front of me.

"Did you think I couldn't smell him on you?" he asked, his voice vibrating through my skull. "Did you think I’d let you walk around carrying another man’s scent like a trophy?"

"You have no right," I managed to say.

"I have every right," he countered. "Every drop of blood in your body knows who you belong to. Every breath you take is mine to give."

He leaned in, his lips finally grazing the corner of my mouth. It wasn't a kiss. It was a claim.

"You're coming home," he murmured against my skin. "And once we’re behind those doors, I’m going to scrub every trace of him off you until you can only smell me."

He pulled back just an inch, his eyes searching mine. I saw the obsession there. I saw the madness.

And then, his eyes shifted. They moved to something behind me, something over my shoulder. His grip on my throat tightened instinctively, his entire body coiling like a spring.

"What is it?" I whispered, my heart leaping into my throat.

He didn't answer. He looked at the elevator across the room, which had just chimed.

The doors slid open, and a man in a dark suit stepped out, holding a black leather case. He didn't look like a party-goer. He looked like an executioner.

"Jaxson?" the man called out, his voice cutting through the silence of the room. "The board has made their decision. Given the... recent revelations about your family status, your contract has been terminated."

The world went still. The MVP, the god of the ice, had just been stripped of his crown.

Jaxson’s hand dropped from my throat. He turned toward the man, his face a mask of cold fury. But before he could speak, the man continued.

"And Remi? You might want to come with us. Your real father just touched down at the airport."

[POV: JAXSON]

"Get in the car, Remi. Now."

My voice was a jagged edge of ice, cutting through the heavy, humid air of the parking garage. My pulse was a frantic hammer against the base of my throat, each beat sending a fresh wave of adrenaline-fueled fire through my veins. The scent of her—lilies, ozone, and that lingering, traitorous sea salt from the party—was an assault on my sanity.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she snapped, her voice trembling but sharp.

I didn't answer. I reached out, my fingers wrapping around her upper arm. Her skin was scorching hot against my palm, a direct wire to the bond that was currently trying to rip my chest open. I dragged her toward the SUV, the heels of her shoes clicking a frantic, uneven rhythm against the concrete.

"You're hurting me!" she cried out.

I ignored the way my heart lurched at her pain. I ignored the way my wolf was howling in the back of my skull, demanding I soothe the very bruise I was creating. I was the Alpha. I was the MVP. And I was losing control of everything I owned.

I threw the door open and shoved her into the passenger seat. The leather groaned under her weight. I slammed the door, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the empty garage. By the time I slid behind the wheel, my vision was blurring at the edges, turning a dangerous, predatory amber.

"Where are we going?" she demanded, her back pressed hard against the door, her fingers digging into the upholstery.

"To work," I growled.

The drive to the arena was a blur of neon lights and screeching tires. I drove with a reckless, animalistic speed that matched the chaos in my blood. Beside me, Remi was a statue of terror. I could smell the cold sweat breaking out on her forehead, the way her breath came in short, shallow hitches that made my ears ring.

We arrived at the back entrance of the stadium. The massive structure loomed over us like a silent, concrete beast. I used my keycard, the light flashing green with a soft, mocking beep.

"Out," I commanded.

"It's midnight, Jaxson. The lights are off. What are we doing here?"

"I said out!"

I grabbed her again, leading her through the dark, echoing tunnels. The smell of stale popcorn and old ice rose up to meet us. It was my cathedral, my sanctuary, and tonight, it would be her cage.

I pushed through the heavy doors leading to the rink. The air was a sudden, violent drop in temperature, hitting my face like a slap. The ice stretched out before us, a vast, shimmering mirror of white.

"Sit," I said, pointing to the player's bench.

"Jaxson, you're acting crazy. Talk to me." Her voice was small, swallowed by the immense silence of the empty arena. Her eyes were wide, the pupils dilated until the gold was almost gone.

"Sit down, Remi. Don't move. Don't speak. Just watch."

I didn't wait for her response. I vaulted over the boards, my skates hitting the ice with a sharp, echoing clack. I didn't bother with a helmet. I didn't bother with pads. I grabbed a stick and a bucket of pucks, my movements fluid and lethal.

I began to skate.

[POV: REMI]

"Jaxson, stop this!" I screamed, but the sound just bounced off the thousands of empty seats, returning to me as a ghostly mockery.

I sat on the wooden bench, my hands tucked between my knees to stop the shaking. The cold was a physical weight, seeping through the thin silk of my dress until my bones felt like they were made of glass. My heart was a trapped bird, slamming against my ribs with every explosive stride he took on the ice.

He was a blur.

He wasn't skating like a professional; he was skating like a demon. The sound of his blades carving into the ice was a series of violent, rhythmic stabs. Rrip. Rrip. Rrip. The ice was flying up in white clouds behind him, shimmering like diamonds in the dim emergency lights.

He took a puck, and with a flick of his wrists that looked more like an act of war than a sport, he sent it screaming toward the goal.

Clang!

The sound of the puck hitting the metal post was a thunderclap. I jumped, my breath hitching in a throat that felt like it was filled with needles.

He didn't stop. He looped back, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. Sweat was pouring down his temples, flying off his chin as he pivoted. I could smell it even from here—that thick, metallic tang of an Alpha pushed to the brink. It mixed with the scent of the cold ice, creating an atmosphere so heavy I could barely draw air into my lungs.

He grabbed another puck. This time, he didn't aim for the net.

He turned toward me.

My eyes widened. My blood turned to slush in my veins. He drew his stick back, his muscles coiling like a serpent about to strike.

Thwack!

The puck was a black streak of death. It hit the safety glass directly in front of my face with a force that made the entire barrier vibrate.

I shrieked, flinching back, my hands flying up to cover my eyes. The glass didn't break, but the sound—a high-pitched, ringing crack—echoed inside my skull until I thought my ears would bleed.

"Is that enough, Remi?" he roared from the center of the ice. He was heaving, his chest rising and falling with a violent rhythm. "Is that the excitement you wanted at the party? Is that what you were looking for with Leo?"

"You're insane!" I shouted back, my voice cracking. I stood up, my legs feeling like water. "You're trying to kill me!"

"I'm trying to kill the part of me that wants you!"

He skated toward me, not slowing down. He looked like he was going to plow right through the boards and crush me. At the last possible second, he turned his skates sideways, sending a massive spray of ice shavings over the top of the glass.

The white frost coated my hair and shoulders. I stood there, shivering, the ice melting against my warm skin like a thousand tiny stings.

He leaned over the boards, his face inches from mine. The glass was the only thing between us, but it felt like it was melting from the heat radiating off him. His eyes weren't blue anymore. They were a glowing, molten gold that seemed to pierce right through my flesh to the mark on my neck.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he hissed. His breath was hot, smelling of chocolate and iron. "The board is gone. My career is in the dirt. My 'sister' is a stranger who carries the scent of my rival."

"I didn't ask for any of this!" I grabbed the top of the boards, my knuckles white. "I didn't ask for the bond, and I didn't ask for the lies!"

"But you're here," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "And you're not leaving."

[POV: JAXSON]

"Watch me," she said.

The defiance in her voice was a physical strike. It made my wolf snarl, a deep, guttural vibration that started in my diaphragm and filled the entire rink. She actually turned around. She began to walk away from the bench, her small shoulders set in a line of stubborn pride.

The silk of her dress clung to her hips, moving with a taunting rhythm that made my vision swim.

I didn't think. I vaulted over the glass, my skates clattering onto the rubber flooring of the walkway. I was on her in three strides.

I grabbed her waist and spun her around, pinning her back against the cold, hard glass of the rink. The impact made her gasp, the air leaving her lungs in a soft oomph.

"Let go of me, Jaxson!"

She tried to push me, her small hands landing on my chest. I was bare-chested under my open jersey, and the contact of her palms against my skin was like a lightning strike. My heart hammered against her hands, a frantic, rhythmic demand for her to stay.

"No," I growled.

I leaned in, my weight pressing her into the glass. I could feel the cold of the rink behind her and the heat of my body in front of her. She was trapped in the middle, a delicate thing caught between two glaciers.

I reached up, my hands slamming against the glass on either side of her head. The sound was a dull, heavy thud that echoed through the empty arena.

"You think you're going to that college?" I asked, my face inches from hers. "You think you're going to fly away and find some human life where I don't exist?"

"I have the right to a life!" she screamed. Her face was flushed, her eyes wet with tears that refused to fall. "I am not your property, Jaxson! You are not my brother, and you are not my king!"

"I am your mate!"

The word exploded between us, a truth we had both been trying to outrun. The silence that followed was absolute. The only sound was the hum of the cooling system and the frantic, synchronized thudding of our hearts.

I watched as her throat worked, a delicate swallow that drew my eyes to the mark on her neck. It was glowing. A faint, ethereal amber light was pulsing beneath her skin, mocking my attempt to ignore it.

"The bond doesn't care about your rights, Remi," I whispered, my voice breaking. "It doesn't care about my contract. It only cares that I am starving, and you are the only thing that can feed me."

I leaned down, my nose brushing the soft curve of her jaw. She smelled like heaven and a looming storm. My hands moved from the glass, my fingers tangling in her hair, forcing her to look up at me.

"You aren't leaving this city, Remi," I breathed against her lips. "Not until I'm finished with you."

"And when will that be?" she asked, her voice a ghost of a whisper.

"Never."

I lowered my head, my lips hovering just a fraction of an inch above hers. The electricity between us was a physical barrier, a wall of static that made the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. I wanted to crush her. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to tear the world apart just to hear her say my name.

She didn't pull away. She leaned in, her breath hitching, her fingers curling into the fabric of my jersey.

"Then finish it," she challenged, her voice a jagged shard of glass. "Do it now, or let me go."

I grew rigid. My wolf was screaming for me to claim her, to sink my teeth into that glowing mark and end this torment. But before I could move, a light flooded the arena.

The giant scoreboard above the ice flickered to life, its hum a sudden, artificial roar.

I looked up, my eyes squinting against the glare.

A message was scrolling across the screen in giant, blood-red letters.

THE TRUTH IS IN THE BLOOD, JAXSON. SHE ISN'T WHO YOU THINK SHE IS.

I felt Remi stiffen beneath me. I looked back at her, and the terror in her eyes was replaced by a look of absolute, soul-crushing realization.

"What is that?" I demanded, my grip on her shoulders tightening. "Remi, what does that mean?"

She didn't answer. She looked past me, toward the dark tunnel we had just come through.

A figure was standing there, silhouetted by the lights of the concourse. He was holding a file, and even from this distance, I could smell the scent of old paper and ancient, rotting earth.

"It means," Remi whispered, her voice trembling so hard I could barely hear her, "that the blood test didn't just say we aren't related, Jaxson. It said I'm not even human."

The man in the tunnel stepped forward, his face coming into the light. It was the same man from the party, but he wasn't wearing a suit anymore. He was wearing the crest of the High Council.

"She’s right, Jaxson," the man said, his voice echoing through the rafters. "She isn't your sister. She’s your prey. And if you don't hand her over now, the entire city will burn."

[POV: JAXSON]

"Don't touch me, Remi. Just put the kit on the counter and walk away."

My voice was a shredded rasp, barely audible over the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears. The locker room was dead silent, but the air was screaming. I sat on the low wooden bench, my head hanging between my shoulders, watching the crimson droplets hit the floor. One. Two. Three. Each splash was a drumbeat of failure.

"You're bleeding through your shirt, Jaxson. You can't reach the gash on your shoulder," she said.

Her voice was too soft. It was a velvet ribbon wrapping around my jagged nerves, pulling them tight. I could smell her the moment she stepped over the threshold. Lilies. Rain. And that underlying, intoxicating heat that made my wolf want to rip its way out of my ribcage.

"I said stay back," I growled, but the sound lacked its usual bite.

My back was a roadmap of agony. The hit at the boards had done more than crack a rib; it had opened an old wound, a reminder of a life I was supposed to have conquered. I felt the warmth of the blood soaking into the fabric of my jersey, heavy and cloying.

"The team doctor is gone. Our parents are three states away. Who else is going to do it?"

I heard her footsteps. They were light, hesitant, yet steady. Each step she took toward me made the air in the room grow thinner. My lungs burned as I tried to pull in enough oxygen to stay upright. The lights in the training room flickered, casting long, dancing shadows against the sterile white walls.

"I don't need your help," I hissed.

"Liars don't bleed this much," she countered.

I felt the bench shift as she sat behind me. The proximity was a physical blow. The heat radiating from her body was a localized sun, warming the chilled, sweat-damp skin of my neck. I closed my eyes, my jaw locking so hard I heard the bone creak.

I felt her fingers graze the hem of my jersey. It was the lightest touch, a mere ghost of a movement, but it sent a bolt of pure, unadulterated electricity straight to my marrow. My vision didn't just blur; it turned a molten, Alpha-gold.

"Lift your arms," she whispered.

I obeyed. Not because I wanted to, but because my body was no longer mine. I was a passenger in a vessel controlled by the bond we both pretended didn't exist. I pulled the jersey over my head, the fabric dragging against the raw skin of my back.

The air hit the wound, a sharp, cold sting that made me hiss. But the cold was nothing compared to the heat of her gaze. I could feel her eyes traveling over my scars, mapping the history of every fight I’d ever won—and the one I was currently losing.

"It's deep," she breathed.

I felt her hand settle on my shoulder blade to steady herself. Her palm was slick with a cold sweat that mirrored my own. Her touch was like a branding iron. Where her skin met mine, the world ceased to be a room of lockers and ice. It became a vacuum of sensation, a narrow tunnel where only the two of us existed.

[POV: REMI]

"Try to keep still. This is going to sting."

My hands were shaking so violently I almost dropped the bottle of antiseptic. My heart wasn't just hammering; it was a frantic, trapped thing, trying to break through my ribs to get to him. The sound of it echoed in my ears, a rhythmic thud that drowned out the hum of the industrial refrigerator in the corner.

I looked at his back. It was a landscape of power and pain. The muscles were bunched, quivering under the surface like a bowstring pulled to the breaking point. The wound was a jagged red line, weeping blood that looked too dark, too rich.

"Just do it," he growled.

I soaked a gauze pad and pressed it to the gash.

Jaxson’s entire body jolted. A low, guttural sound tore from his throat—not a scream, but a whine, deep and animalistic. It was a sound I felt in my own chest, a sympathetic vibration that made my wolf stir from its long, forced slumber.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice breaking.

"Don't be," he snapped, his voice tight with an agony that had nothing to do with the antiseptic.

I moved the gauze in a slow, circular motion. The metallic tang of his blood filled my senses, mixing with the dark chocolate scent of his skin. It was an overwhelming combination, a drug that made my head swim and my knees feel like water.

I found myself leaning closer. I couldn't help it. The bond was a physical tether, pulling my chest toward his back. I wanted to press my face against his skin. I wanted to lick the blood away. The thoughts were intrusive, primal, and terrifying.

"Remi," he warned, his voice a low vibration that I felt through the tips of my fingers.

"I know," I said, but I didn't pull away.

My fingers moved from the wound to the uninjured skin of his shoulder. He was so hot. It felt like he was running a fever of a hundred and five. The heat wasn't just physical; it was spiritual. It was the mark on my neck finally finding its match.

I watched the skin of his back ripple as I touched him. A series of fine shivers erupted across his shoulders. I followed the line of a scar that ran from his neck to his mid-back, my touch lingering on the jagged edges.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

He turned his head slightly, his profile sharp and lethal against the dim light. His eyes were glowing, the amber light reflecting off the stainless steel of the medical cart.

"Because you're hurting," I said.

"We're both hurting," he countered. "Every second you're in this room, you're twisting the knife."

"Then let it twist," I said, a sudden, fierce defiance rising in my chest.

I moved my hand to the base of his neck, right where his own mark was hidden beneath the hair. The moment my skin made contact with that specific spot, the room exploded.

It wasn't a sound. It was a shockwave. A surge of white-hot energy blasted through my arm, hitting my heart with the force of a freight train. My vision went white. I felt a cry rip from my throat, but it was lost in the sudden, deafening roar of his own voice.

[POV: JAXSON]

"Enough!"

I spun around, my hand flying out to catch her by the waist. I didn't pull her in; I caught her as she fell. The contact was a catastrophe. The moment my hand closed around the silk of her dress, the bond snapped shut like a steel trap.

The heat was no longer a pulse. It was a wildfire. It roared through my veins, incinerating every bit of logic and restraint I had spent years building.

Remi gasped, her hands flying to my chest to steady herself. Her fingers dug into my pectoral muscles, her nails grazing my skin. Her eyes were wide, the gold irises glowing with a light that rivaled my own.

"Jaxson," she breathed, her voice a plea and a challenge all at once.

We stared at each other. The silence in the room was so thick it felt like we were underwater. I could hear her heart. I could hear the blood rushing through her carotid artery. I could hear the frantic, high-pitched whine of her wolf, answering the roar of mine.

The electricity between us was visible now, tiny blue sparks jumping between our skin where we touched. My skin felt like it was being peeled back, exposing the raw, aching soul beneath.

"You should run," I whispered. My hand on her waist tightened, pulling her closer until our chests were centimeters apart. "You should run as fast as you can."

"I'm tired of running," she said.

She did it then. She reached up and cupped my face. Her palms were hot now, the cold sweat gone, replaced by the fever of the bond. She looked at my mouth, and I felt my resolve shatter like glass under a hammer.

I leaned in, my nose brushing hers. I could taste her breath on my lips—sweet, like honey and desperation. My wolf was clawing at the back of my eyes, demanding I claim what was mine.

"If I touch you," I groaned, my eyes closing as I inhaled her scent, "I won't be able to stop. Do you understand? There is no brotherly love here. There is only this."

"I know," she whispered.

She leaned in, her lips grazing the corner of mine. It was a spark in a powder keg. I groaned, my head dropping to the crook of her neck. I buried my face in her hair, my teeth grazing the skin right above her mark.

I felt her shudder, a long, convulsive tremor that ended in her arching her back against my arm.

"Stay," I commanded, the word a ragged prayer.

"I can't," she whispered, even as she pressed herself closer.

We stayed like that for an eternity, two broken things trying to fuse together in the dark. The heat eventually settled from a wildfire into a slow, agonizing burn. The adrenaline began to recede, leaving us both trembling and hollowed out.

Eventually, the weight of the world returned. The ticking of the clock. The smell of the antiseptic. The reality of the lies.

I pulled back, my hands dropping from her waist as if I'd been burned. I couldn't look at her. I turned away, grabbing my discarded jersey and pulling it on with jerky, uncoordinated movements.

"Go home, Remi," I said, my voice dead. "I'll be back late."

[POV: REMI]

I didn't argue. I couldn't. My body felt like it had been turned inside out and left to dry in the wind. I walked out of the training room, my feet feeling heavy, as if I were walking through deep mud.

The drive home was a blur of streetlights and shadows. I felt like a ghost haunting my own life. When I finally reached the mansion, the silence of the house felt like a physical weight. I went straight to my room, locking the door behind me.

I needed to feel normal. I needed to touch something that wasn't Jaxson.

I reached for my phone, which I’d left charging on the nightstand. It felt unusually heavy in my hand. I frowned, turning it over. The custom case I’d bought—a thick, rugged plastic—seemed slightly misaligned at the corner.

I picked at the edge with my fingernail. It gave way with a soft click.

The case popped off.

I stared at the back of the phone. There, nestled in a small hollow of the plastic casing, was a tiny, flat silver disc. It was no larger than a shirt button, but it had a small, pulsing green light that blinked with a rhythmic, mechanical precision.

A tracker.

My stomach dropped into a cold, dark abyss. My hands began to shake so hard the phone clattered onto the hardwood floor.

I hadn't changed this case in six months.

I sat on the edge of my bed, the room spinning around me. Six months. Six months of every movement, every secret meeting, every desperate attempt to escape being broadcast to someone.

I thought of Jaxson’s face when he found me at the party. I thought of the way he always seemed to know exactly when I was planning to leave.

The door to the hallway creaked.

I looked up, my heart stopping in my chest. Jaxson was standing there, his silhouette framed by the hallway light. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the phone on the floor.

"You weren't supposed to find that, Remi," he said.

His voice wasn't angry. It was worse. It was disappointed. He stepped into the room, and I saw what he was holding in his hand.

It was a tablet. On the screen was a map of the city, and a single, glowing red dot was centered exactly where I was sitting.

"Who else is watching me, Jaxson?" I asked, my voice a hollowed-out shell. "Is it just you, or is the High Council on the other end of this too?"

Jaxson didn't answer. He walked to the window and pulled the heavy curtains shut, plunging the room into darkness.

"The Council isn't watching you, Remi," he said, his voice coming from the shadows. "They're using the tracker to find the man who's coming to kill us both."

The window behind him shattered.