Chapter 4

ELLA

I bend over the sink again, splashing cold water onto my face until my breathing finally slows down. When I straighten up and look at my reflection, I almost look like myself again.

Almost.

Whatever happened here hasn’t fully faded. My scent still clings to me, it's faint  and unfamiliar, hanging in the air like a sign.

I unlock the bathroom door and step back into the bedroom.

Jax is standing there.

The dim light catches his eyes, and my stomach tightens when I notice the faint glow beneath the blue.

We just stare at each other.

“You smell different,” he says quietly.

He takes a step closer. I watch his pupils expand, his nostrils flaring as if he’s testing the air, confirming what his instincts are already screaming at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, even though my voice betrays me with its shake.

His hand lifts, slow and deliberate, and terror spikes through me. For half a second, I’m convinced he’s about to touch me.

He stops himself.

His fingers curl sharply into a fist instead.

“Stay away from me,” he growls, retreating a step like he’s the one restraining himself. 

“Do your job. Take care of Sophie. And stay the hell away from me.”

Then he turns and leaves.

The door shuts hard behind him, but not before I notice his hands trembling too.

And in the dim hallway light, I could swear I saw claws starting to form.

I remain frozen for a long moment, silently thanking every star in the sky that I’m still safe. That he didn’t push. That he didn’t demand answers.

But my wolf hasn’t settled.

She prowls inside me, restless and alert. She sensed something in him. Recognized something powerful. And she wants it.

I crawl into the unfamiliar bed, tug the expensive sheets up to my chin, and stare at the ceiling.

What have I walked into?

Sleep refuses to come.

How could it, when everything is spiraling faster than I can control?

How can I sleep knowing the man down the hall is an Alpha and my wolf is clawing desperately toward the surface?

By the time dawn creeps in, I’ve already made my choice.

I’ll survive a few months. Save every dollar. And then I’ll disappear. Put as much distance as possible between myself and Jax Steele. If he finds out what I am, the words rogue or spy will come easily to him. And I have no one, no pack, no protection to stand between me and what follows.

Then Sophie appears in my doorway.

She’s clutching a stuffed wolf, barefoot and still dressed in her pajamas. Her curls are a tangled mess, cheeks flushed from sleep. She doesn’t say a word. She just climbs onto the bed and curls into my side.

Like it’s where she belongs.

“Morning, Ella-mama,” she murmurs.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” I whisper. 

“Did you sleep okay?”

She nods. “I had good dreams. You were there.”

My chest tightens as I smooth a hand over her hair, breathing in the faint scent of strawberry shampoo.

“Want to help me make breakfast?” I ask.

Her face lights up instantly. “Pancakes?”

“If we can find everything we need.”

She scrambles off the bed, grabs my hand, and practically drags me toward the door. “Kitchen! I’ll show you!”

The house is quiet as we move through it. It’s just after six. Jax is probably already gone.

Sophie pulls her step stool to the counter and climbs up like she’s done this a thousand times. We find the ingredients together. I let her crack the eggs. Flour ends up everywhere on the counter, on our clothes, in her hair and she giggles like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

“You’re really good at this,” I tell her as she carefully measures milk, tongue poking out in concentration.

“Daddy doesn’t cook,” she says matter-of-factly. “He burns things.”

I smile as I flip a pancake. “Does he?”

“Even toast,” she nods solemnly. “The beeping starts.”

I’m laughing when the front door opens.

My body locks up instantly.

Jax steps into the kitchen, and my breath catches.

He’s wearing running shorts and a tight tank soaked with sweat, his skin flushed, hair damp and pushed back from his face. His eyes find mine across the room, and the tension slams down between us.

Neither of us moves.

“Daddy!” Sophie breaks the silence. “We made pancakes!”

His gaze softens the moment it lands on her. “You did? They smell amazing.”

He washes his hands without looking at me. “You’re up early.”

“Sophie woke me.”

“She usually doesn’t.” There’s an edge to his tone.

“Maybe she was hungry,” I say, flipping another pancake harder than necessary. “Or maybe she finally slept well.”

He turns, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching me closely.

“Mrs. Chen showed you the schedule?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Sophie needs consistency. The routine matters for her ”

“And she’s three, not in the military.”

The words slip out before I can stop them.

Silence crashes down.

When I look up, he’s staring at me like I’ve done something I can’t undo.

“Excuse me?”

“The schedule is excessive,” I continue, heart pounding. “Educational drills at seven? Timed meals? No free play? She’s a toddler. She needs to be a kid.”

His eyes turn icy. “You think you’re qualified to criticize my parenting after one day?”

“Yes. Because if it was working, you wouldn’t have a terrified child and a revolving door of nannies.”

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, but I don’t move.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says quietly.

“I know kids,” I fire back. “I work with them. They need love, not control. Sophie needs a parent who’s present, not perfect.”

“I am present.”

“When? Between hockey, classes, and everything else? When’s the last time you cooked her dinner? Sat with her without checking the clock?”

His hands clench.

“You have no right ”

“Don’t yell!” Sophie cries suddenly.

We both freeze.

She’s crying now, looking between us, terrified. “No fighting!”

I turn off the stove immediately and scoop her up. “It’s okay. We were just talking.”

“Loud talking,” she sobs. “Like before Mama left.”

The words devastate the room.

Jax looks like he’s been struck.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly. “Daddy’s not mad.”

She doesn’t look at him. She clings to me instead.

When he reaches for her, she flinches.

The pain on his face is unbearable.

“I’ll take her,” I say quietly. “She needs time.”

“I have practice,” he says hollowly. “I’ll be back later.”

He leaves without another word.

I stand there holding a crying child, pancakes half-made, realizing I’ve just challenged my employer on my first day.

This is going to end badly.

But when Sophie looks up at me, syrup on her nose, and whispers, “Love you, Ella-mama…”

I know this is only the beginning.