CHAPTER 24

JAYDEN

At some point, the weight of the night finally caught up with me. My eyes grew heavy as I sat in the corner, watching the two souls I would kill for. The steady rhythm of their breathing lulled me until darkness pulled me under.

I stirred when something soft brushed against me. A blanket—draped slowly over my shoulders.

My eyes cracked open, and before she could pull away, I caught her hand.

Catriona froze, her eyes widening. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already awake,” I murmured, my voice low, rough with fatigue.

With a tug, I pulled her closer until she was perched on my lap, her body pressed to mine. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her against me like I couldn’t let her slip away again.

Her forehead rested against my chest, and after a long beat of silence, her whisper broke through. “I’m sorry… for leaving the hospital. I couldn’t rest. Not after what that old man told me. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I feel him. And every time, he’s taking Abriel away from me.” Her voice cracked.

I tightened my hold, my jaw clenching. “You don’t have to apologize. I knew you wouldn’t listen to me anyway—especially when it comes to our son.”

Her shoulders trembled against me, but I tilted her chin up gently, forcing her to meet my gaze. “How do you feel?”

“The pain… isn’t as bad as before,” she admitted, brushing her fingers lightly over the back of her head. “They gave me some pills. They help.”

I gave a single nod, relief a quiet undercurrent beneath my hardened exterior. Then I exhaled, heavy with the weight of what I had to tell her.

“There’s something we need to do,” I said at last, my voice steady but grave. “We’re leaving.”

I kept my arms around her, my voice low. “I went to Gabriel’s house last night.”

Her whole body stiffened in my lap. She leaned back just enough to look at me, eyes wide. “You did what?”

“I asked for his help,” I said flatly, before she could explode.

Her lips parted, outrage flickering across her face.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I cut in quickly, my tone edged with the same disgust curling in my gut. “I hate it too. But we don’t have a choice. He’s tangled in this mess as much as we are. And whether we like it or not… he was meant to help anyway.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed, her gaze searching mine. “Where exactly are we going? And what time? I need to pack our things.”

“Tomorrow morning. Six sharp,” I said, the words heavy. “We’re heading to Europe.”

Her brows knitted, unease flashing in her eyes, but she didn’t argue. Not yet. Instead, she drew in a steadying breath. “Then I’ll… go prepare breakfast.”

“No.” My grip on her waist tightened. “You’re not in any condition to do that.”

“But you know Abriel won’t eat breakfast from the pack’s cooks,” she countered softly.

A faint smirk tugged at my lips. “Worry not, love. I’ll prepare it.”

Her head tilted, eyes narrowing in surprise as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard me right. “You?”

“Yes, me. What would you like me to prepare?”

She studied me for a long beat, and then her lips curved, a small smile breaking through her exhaustion. It was like watching a crack of sunlight after endless storm.

“You know,” she murmured, amusement soft in her voice, “you look… hot saying that. Offering to cook.”

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face. “Do you think I can’t cook?”

She shook her head quickly, eyes gleaming. “No—it’s just… it’s hot watching a man cook. Especially you.”

“Well, I hope I don’t look like that to anyone else,” I muttered, arching a brow.

Her laugh rang out, light and real, and it filled me in a way I didn’t realize I needed. “That’s exactly what I want. For everyone to see how hot you look… knowing they can’t have you. Because you’re mine.”

Her words ignited something fierce and tender inside me. I closed the space between us, our lips meeting in a slow, burning kiss. Her hands slid up to my chest, and I held her tighter, the world falling away until it was only her.

“I love you,” I whispered against her mouth.

“I love you too,” she breathed back, her eyes shining.

I rested my forehead against hers for a heartbeat longer, then straightened. “Now tell me—what do you want me to make?”

“Something quick,” she said, brushing her thumb over my jaw as though she couldn’t quite let me go.

“Quick it is,” I murmured, kissing her temple before standing. I gave her one last look, a silent promise, then headed downstairs. The house was quiet, but I moved with purpose until I reached the kitchen.

Time to play cook—husband, father, Alpha. And pray to whatever gods still listened that it wasn’t the last breakfast I’d get to make for them.

I rolled my sleeves up, scanning the shelves. It had been a long time since I stood in here with the intention of cooking myself. The pack’s cooks usually handled everything, but today wasn’t about convenience—it was about my son.

I pulled out a carton of eggs, some bread, and a few pieces of fruit. Simple, quick. I cracked the eggs into a bowl, whisking them with a little more force than necessary, my mind already running in circles around Selena Jones and what waited for us tomorrow.

The pan sizzled as the eggs hit, filling the air with a warm, buttery scent.

“Daddy?”

The small, sleepy voice behind me made me pause. I turned, spatula in hand, to see Abriel padding into the kitchen in his pajamas, hair sticking out in every direction. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his little hand, blinking at me.

“You’re… cooking?” His tone held surprise, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

A low chuckle escaped me. “What? You think I can’t?”

He grinned, climbing onto one of the stools by the counter. “I didn’t say that. I just never saw you do it before.”

Catriona joined in with a smile. He woke up the moment you left and wanted to join you. She said before heading back upstairs.

I flipped the eggs in the pan with a bit of flourish, smirking at his wide eyes. “See? Your dad has skills.”

He giggled, clapping his hands. “Looks yummy.”

I slid the eggs onto a plate, toasted the bread, and added some sliced fruit. As I set the plate in front of him, I couldn’t stop the strange tug in my chest. Watching him dig in so happily, so carefree, it almost felt like we were a normal family. No prophecies. No spirits. No threats. Just breakfast.

“Is it good?” I asked, leaning on the counter, studying him.

“Mhm.” His cheeks were stuffed, his smile bright. “Better than the cooks.”

That pulled a laugh out of me, deep and real. “Careful, little wolf, you’ll make them quit if they hear you.”

He shrugged, taking another bite. “Don’t care. I like it when you and mummy make it.”

Those words… they hit harder than they should have. My throat tightened, but I masked it with a smirk. I reached over, ruffling his messy hair. “Then I’ll make it for you more often.”

His face lit up, and for a brief moment, the weight on my shoulders lightened. Just a father and his son, sharing breakfast before the storm broke.

When he finished the last bite of his breakfast, I leaned on the counter, watching him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “Alright, little man,” I said, pushing away from the counter. “How about a bath before you run off to play?”

Abriel nodded eagerly and stretched his arms out to me, urging me with those tiny hands to carry him. My chest squeezed as I lifted him, his little weight pressing against me in a way that made me want to never let go.

I carried him upstairs into his room and straight to the bathroom. The water ran warm and steady as I filled the tub, steam curling up in the air. I set him in gently, rolling my sleeves higher as he splashed with delight.

Halfway through rinsing his hair, though, everything shifted.

Abriel stilled. His small body froze like stone, his eyes wide and unblinking as he stared directly at me. The playful innocence in him evaporated in a heartbeat.

Then he spoke.

Not in his voice.

A man’s voice. Deep. Cold. Echoing.

“You’re wasting time going all the way to Europe. If you leave, I’m going to make your lives there hell.”

The sound of it hit me like a fist to the chest. My blood went cold, my grip on the small sponge in my hand tightening until it nearly tore apart.

My jaw locked. “Who the hell are you?”

Abriel didn’t move, didn’t blink, just kept staring at me with that stranger’s voice lingering in the steam.

And then—he blinked.

Like someone had yanked him out of a deep hole. His small body shuddered as if waking from a nightmare.

I crouched low, my voice breaking. My hands shook as I gripped his little shoulders. “Abriel… is that you?”

His big brown eyes lifted to mine. After a beat, he gave the smallest nod.

Relief tangled with dread. I pulled him out of the water immediately, wrapping him tightly in a towel, drying him as quickly as I could, my hands never leaving him. Every instinct in me screamed to protect him, to shield him from whatever just clawed its way into his body.

Once he was dressed again, he tugged lightly at his shirt, his little voice soft, almost detached.

“I’m going in my playroom.”

My chest constricted as I watched him walk off, his tiny steps echoing too loudly in the silence he left behind.

I headed down the hall and into our bedroom. The faint scent of her shampoo hit me before I even stepped inside.

She stood in the closet, a towel wrapped snugly around her. She had clothes in both hands, indecision written across her face. When her eyes landed on me, a smile curved her lips.

“Did Abriel finish his breakfast?” she asked, her voice lighter than I expected.

I nodded, forcing my tone steady. “He did. I gave him a bath too. He’s in his playroom now.”

She looked relieved, but I didn’t give her time to ask more. My steps closed the distance between us, and I pulled her into my arms.

“Jayden, I need to—”

“Shh,” I murmured against her hair. My arms tightened around her. “Just one minute.”

For one damn minute, I needed to hold her. To anchor myself. To shut out that voice that didn’t belong to my son.

I couldn’t tell her. Not yet. She’d break, and I couldn’t risk her breaking. Not now.

She shifted in my arms, gently pulling away. Her eyes lifted to mine, searching. “Jayden… did something happen? Something you don’t want to tell me?”

The words sat heavy between us. My throat tightened, memory flashing back to the way Abriel’s voice had twisted into something inhuman. But I couldn’t. Not yet. She already carried too much fear.

I forced a calm tone. “Nothing happened. I’m just… thinking about how we’re going to face Selena.”

Her gaze lingered on me, doubtful but quiet. Then she moved past me into the open space of the closet. The towel slipped off her shoulders and dropped to the floor as she reached for a fresh pair of clothes.

My breath caught, heat burning through me despite the storm in my head. Hunger. Pure, aching hunger. You’d think I’d be used to her by now—every night, every touch—but watching her like this… it was like seeing her for the first time. My eyes darted down the curve of her spine, the smooth stretch of skin as she bent to step into her knickers.

She spoke as she dressed, her voice steady, but mine barely registered her words at first. “Let’s say she agrees. Will she even be able to help?”

I dragged my eyes back up, forcing my voice not to break. “If anyone can, it’s her. But nothing comes without a price.”

She slipped into a blouse, pulling it over her hair, and then buttoned her jeans. My hunger fought against the weight of everything else pressing on me. My world was fire and shadows, and she was the only light that still burned clear.

Finally dressed, she turned to me. “I’m going to see Miss Oliver's house for one to two hours with Abriel. My brother wants to see him.”

I nodded, tamping down the mix of dread and desire clawing through me. “Take Sandra with you.”

“I will,” she said softly before turning and walking out, leaving me standing there with my chest heavy, my fists clenched, and the ghost of hunger still running in my veins.

The shower scalded and cleared my head, the pounding water trying to rinse away the weight sitting heavy on my chest. By the time I dried off and pulled on a clean shirt, I’d almost managed to push the memory of Abriel’s unnatural voice to the back of my mind.

Almost.

A sharp, violent thud shattered the quiet. Metal screeched. Then—Catriona’s scream ripped through the air.

My blood froze before it ignited.

I was moving before I knew it, tearing through the room, down the stairs, and out the front door.

The sight on the driveway made my heart slam into my ribs.

Catriona’s car sat twisted at an angle, the hood caved in beneath the broken body of a deer. Its glassy eyes stared up at nothing, legs bent at unnatural angles. Steam hissed from the crumpled front end, curling around the scene like smoke.

And Catriona—

She stood by the driver’s side, one hand gripping the door, her face pale, her chest rising too fast.