Chapter 4: Not-So-Temporary Arrangements

If someone had told me a month ago that I’d be sharing an apartment with Jaxon Black—the younger brother of my emotionally distant ex-husband—I would’ve laughed and then probably cried. But now, as I stood in my kitchen in pajamas while both brothers faced off like rival Alphas in my living room, I wasn’t laughing.

I was too busy wondering how fast I could pack up and flee the country.

“You can’t be serious,” I said, glaring between them. “You two can’t even exist in the same ten-foot radius without puffing your chests. How am I supposed to live with either of you?”

Cyrus folded his arms, perfectly composed again, like the outburst from earlier never happened. “I’m not here to play games. This affects the trial. If the council finds out you’re living with Jaxon—”

“You mean if they find out I’m not under your thumb anymore?” I interrupted. “That I’m actually breathing on my own for once?”

Jaxon leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she doesn’t faint without your approval.”

Cyrus ignored him, focusing on me. “There’s too much at stake. You were my Omega. We were bonded legally. You can’t be seen living with him before the separation is finalized.”

“Too bad,” I snapped. “I already signed the lease. And unless you’re offering to move into the guest room, this is where I live now.”

Cyrus actually looked like he considered it.

My jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”

“I’ll stay in a hotel,” he said eventually, rubbing his temple. “But you can’t live with Jaxon, either. It will damage your testimony.”

“What testimony?”

“The Luna Council will summon both of us,” Cyrus said. “They need to validate the bond was unconsummated before granting dissolution. If they suspect you’ve been seeing another Alpha, especially my brother—”

“Then don’t let them suspect it,” Jaxon cut in, his voice sharper now. “Or better yet, don’t drag her through a farce of a trial just to protect your reputation.”

I blinked.

Cyrus turned slowly. “You have no idea how fragile things are right now.”

“Oh, I do,” Jaxon replied. “You made sure of that when you married her to look polished and never once treated her like a person.”

The tension snapped so tight I could practically taste it.

“Okay,” I said, raising both hands. “Let’s not kill each other in my living room. How about this—we call my lawyer and ask if I legally have to cohabit with someone until the trial?”

Cyrus looked annoyed. “You need to be living in a neutral, safe environment. Not with him.”

Jaxon raised an eyebrow. “So send a chaperone, if you’re that worried. Or better yet—stay out of it.”

I sighed, pulling my phone from my robe pocket. “I’m calling Leah. One of you can explain it to her.”

---

Two hours later, the verdict came in.

“Until the dissolution is finalized,” Leah had said firmly on speakerphone, “you are to remain in a mutually agreeable, stable location with consistent access to legal supervision. Elara’s current apartment qualifies—if the court is informed of all residents.”

“Informed?” I asked slowly.

“Meaning Jaxon will be required to register as a temporary cohabitant for safety monitoring. And you both must agree not to engage in any romantic or physical contact until the divorce is finalized.”

Jaxon let out a low whistle. “That’s oddly specific.”

“You have a reputation,” Leah said drily. “I don’t need your instincts complicating my case.”

Cyrus scowled.

I wanted to melt into the floor.

“So... we’re doing this,” I muttered once the call ended.

Jaxon grinned. “Looks like we’re roommates.”

Cyrus turned to me. “You’re making a mistake.”

I stared him down. “I already did. When I married you.”

Then I walked to the door and opened it wide.

Cyrus hesitated. But then, without a word, he turned and walked out.

I closed the door behind him, then leaned my forehead against the wood and groaned.

“This is going to be a disaster.”

Behind me, Jaxon’s voice was annoyingly chipper. “You say that like I haven’t lived through worse.”

---

By evening, the awkwardness in the air was thick enough to slice.

Jaxon had dumped his duffel bag in the hallway and claimed the spare room with zero ceremony. Now he sat barefoot on my couch, flipping channels like he’d always lived here. His scent filled the space—a little woodsy, warm, and smug.

I tried to focus on my laptop but gave up.

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” I said finally.

He didn’t look up. “I’ve been through messier living situations. Remember when I got stuck in London for that embassy project and roomed with a Beta who played death metal in the shower?”

“Right,” I said. “That’s definitely the same as living with your brother’s ex-wife.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he said.

“Yet.”

He glanced at me then. “Why’d you stay with him so long?”

I hesitated. “You ever have a dream that turns out to be a cage? And by the time you realize it, you’ve already locked yourself inside?”

His gaze softened. “Yeah.”

I leaned back, folding my arms. “I thought if I was perfect, he’d… thaw.”

“You were already more than he ever deserved,” he said.

The way he said it—low, steady—it hit somewhere I didn’t expect.

“Jaxon…”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to make things harder.”

“You already are,” I said with a half-laugh. “Existing in here.”

“Well, get used to it. I’m a delight.”

---

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

The walls were too thin.

I could hear Jaxon humming in the spare room. A low, unfamiliar tune. I pressed a pillow over my head, but it didn’t help. I wasn’t used to another Alpha being this close. Not in a space I’d carved out for myself.

And yet… I wasn’t afraid. Not like I’d feared Cyrus’s silence. Not like I’d feared disappointing him.

Jaxon made everything feel chaotic and alive.

Which was dangerous.

So dangerous.

I got up, restless, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. The tile was cold. The fridge light was too bright. I stood there staring at a tub of yogurt for no reason when I heard a creak.

“You always stare at dairy when you can’t sleep?”

I jumped.

Jaxon leaned against the doorway, sleepy-eyed and barefoot, in a plain gray tee and low-slung joggers. He looked too casual, too human, too real.

I shut the fridge and crossed my arms. “Do you always sneak up on people in the dark?”

“Only the ones with tragic yogurt habits.”

He walked to the kettle and flicked it on. “Chamomile or peppermint?”

“You’re seriously making tea at midnight?”

“I’m seriously trying to be a good roommate. Be grateful.”

I sat at the counter and watched him move around like he knew every cupboard.

“Why did you agree to stay?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t answer right away. “Because I don’t trust him to leave you alone. And because… maybe I don’t want to.”

I stared at him.

But before I could say anything, there was a sharp knock at the door.

Again.

I groaned. “If that’s Cyrus, I swear I’m going to scream.”

Jaxon held up a hand. “Stay here.”

He crossed to the door and opened it an inch.

Then paused.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The voice that answered was unfamiliar. High. Nervous.

“I’m looking for Elara Black.”

I frowned, stepping closer.

Jaxon turned, eyes unreadable. “Elara… I think you need to see this.”

I came to the door and froze.

A teenage girl stood outside, soaking wet from the rain that had started, hair plastered to her face.

And she looked… almost like me.

“I’m sorry,” she said, eyes wide. “They told me you might be my sister.”