Chapter 34

My Cheating Mate

Emma pov

Three weeks since Vanessa's execution, and I'd barely seen Jeremy outside of our therapy sessions.

He was hunting. That's what my father called it when I asked where Jeremy had been disappearing to for days at a time. Tracking down every lead on Vanessa's rogue contacts, investigating rumors of contracts on my life, working with intelligence wolves from allied packs to map out the network she'd built.

"He's obsessed," my father said over breakfast, his concern evident. "Working himself to exhaustion again. Richard is worried he's going to burn out or get himself killed."

I pushed my eggs around my plate, appetite gone. "Has he found anything?"

"Three contracts so far. All neutralized before they could be carried out." My father studied my face. "Emma, he's doing this for you. To keep you safe."

"I know. That's what worries me." I set down my fork. "Dad, what if this is just another form of self-destruction? What if he's throwing himself into danger because he still thinks he deserves to die?"

"Have you asked him?"

"He's never around to ask! He shows up for therapy on Thursday, looks like hell, barely stays conscious through the session, then disappears again." My voice rose with frustration. "Dr. Chen is worried too. She says he's using this hunt as another way to avoid actually dealing with his trauma."

My father reached across the table to take my hand. "Then you need to talk to him. Really talk to him. Not in therapy, not with Dr. Chen mediating. Just the two of you."

"What if he won't listen?"

"He'll listen. Because Emma, whether you two work out or not, he loves you. And love means accepting help even when you don't think you need it."

I thought about that as I drove to the pack house later that morning. Jeremy was supposed to be meeting with his father about the latest intelligence reports. Maybe I could catch him before he disappeared again.

I found him in Alpha Richard's office, looking exactly as bad as I'd feared. His clothes hung loose on his frame—he'd lost even more weight. Dark circles under his eyes suggested he wasn't sleeping. Fresh bruises on his knuckles indicated recent fighting.

"Emma." He stood when he saw me, surprise flickering across his exhausted face. "Is everything okay?"

"That's what I came to ask you." I looked pointedly at Alpha Richard. "Can we have the room?"

"Of course." Richard gathered his papers. "Jeremy, we'll finish this later. And son? Actually sleep before the next briefing. That's an order from your Alpha, not a suggestion from your father."

After he left, I closed the door and turned to face Jeremy. He stood awkwardly, clearly unsure what this was about.

"Sit down before you fall down," I said.

He obeyed, sinking into a chair with a weariness that made my chest ache.

"When did you last eat a full meal?" I asked.

"I don't—yesterday? Maybe the day before."

"Sleep?"

"I sleep."

"How many hours in the last three days?"

He was quiet. "Ten? Total."

"Jeremy." I moved closer, studying his face. "You're killing yourself. Again."

"I'm protecting you," he countered. "There are still three active contracts we haven't neutralized. At least four rogue packs Vanessa paid that we haven't located yet. Emma, every day I'm not hunting them down is another day you're in danger."

"And every day you spend burning yourself out is another day closer to you collapsing in the field," I shot back. "What good does it do me if you die trying to protect me?"

"I'm not going to die."

"You almost died three months ago from reopening surgical wounds. You almost died five months ago from blood loss after fighting rogues." My voice was shaking now. "Jeremy, you keep almost dying, and I can't—I can't watch you destroy yourself like this."

"This is different. This is important."

"Your health is important!" I was shouting now. "Your life is important! You can't protect me if you're dead!"

He flinched like I'd hit him. "I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, this looks like the same pattern. You feel guilty, so you punish yourself. Only now instead of starving yourself and skipping sleep, you're throwing yourself at rogues and calling it protection."

"It is protection. We've stopped three attacks already. Saved lives, Emma. Your life."

"At what cost?" I knelt beside his chair, forcing him to look at me. "Jeremy, I appreciate what you're doing. I do. But not at the expense of your health. Not if it means watching you slowly kill yourself with guilt and exhaustion."

"I have to do this," he said desperately. "Don't you see? Vanessa made those contracts because of me. Because I had the affair, because I hurt her. Those rogues are coming for you because of my choices. I have to stop them."

"There it is." I sat back. "You're not doing this to protect me. You're doing it to punish yourself. To make up for your perceived sins by martyring yourself."

"That's not—"

"Dr. Chen warned us about this. About how guilt can manifest in seemingly productive ways but still be self-destructive." I met his eyes. "You're still drowning, Jeremy. You're just drowning in action instead of inaction."

He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "What am I supposed to do? Just let the rogues come? Let you live in danger because taking care of myself is more important than keeping you safe?"

"You're supposed to do the work sustainably," I said. "Hunt the rogues, yes. Protect the pack, absolutely. But also eat. Sleep. Actually engage with therapy instead of showing up half-dead every Thursday."

"I don't have time for—"

"Make time!" I stood, frustration boiling over. "Jeremy, I can't do this anymore. Can't watch you self-destruct and call it love. Can't keep wondering if the next time you go out hunting is the last time I'll see you alive."

"Emma—"

"I'm serious. If you don't start taking care of yourself, if you don't stop using this hunt as another way to avoid healing—" I stopped, the words catching in my throat. "I can't be with someone who's determined to destroy themselves. Even if it's for noble reasons."

The ultimatum hung between us. I hadn't planned to say it, hadn't meant to draw that line. But seeing him like this—exhausted, starving, barely holding himself together—I realized I meant it.

I couldn't watch him die slowly. Couldn't enable his self-destruction by accepting it as protection.

"You'd walk away?" His voice was barely a whisper. "If I don't—if I can't—"

"I'd walk away to save my own sanity," I said. "Because loving you shouldn't mean watching you kill yourself. And I do love you, Jeremy. That's why this hurts so much."

He was crying now, silent tears streaming down his face. "I don't know how to stop. Don't know how to balance protecting you with taking care of myself. Every time I try to rest, I think about those rogues out there, planning, preparing. And I can't—"

"Then let others help," I interrupted gently. "Your father has intelligence wolves. The pack has hunters. You don't have to do this alone."

"But it's my responsibility—"

"It's the pack's responsibility. You're not the only one who cares about keeping me safe." I moved closer again, my hand finding his face. "Jeremy, please. I need you healthy. Need you actually present, not burning yourself out on some guilt-fueled mission."

He leaned into my touch, his eyes closing. "I'm so tired, Emma. So fucking tired. But every time I think about stopping, about resting, I see Vanessa's face. Hear her threats. And I can't—"

"I know." I brushed away his tears with my thumb. "But you're not alone in this. Let your father coordinate the hunt. Let the pack's intelligence network track the contracts. You can be part of it without killing yourself."

"What if something happens while I'm resting? What if—"

"Then we deal with it. Together. As a pack." I paused. "Jeremy, you said you'd do better. Said you'd actually heal instead of just punishing yourself. This is part of that. Recognizing when you're falling into old patterns and choosing differently."

He opened his eyes, meeting mine. "I'm scared. Of losing you. Of failing to protect you. Of Vanessa winning even from the grave."

"She only wins if she succeeds in destroying us both," I said. "She's already dead. Don't let her take you too."

"Okay." He nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll—I'll talk to my father. About delegating more of the hunt. About taking breaks. About actually sleeping and eating like a normal person."

"Thank you."

"But Emma? I can't stop completely. Can't just sit back while there are still threats out there."

"I'm not asking you to stop. Just to be smart about it. Sustainable." I pulled my hand back. "And to actually show up to therapy ready to engage instead of half-dead."

"I can do that." He wiped his face. "Emma? I meant what I said. I love you. That's why I'm doing this. Why I can't stand the thought of you being in danger."

"I know. And I love you too. But Jeremy, love means taking care of yourself so you can actually be there for the people you care about. Not destroying yourself in their name."

"When did you get so wise?" A small smile crossed his exhausted face.

"Therapy. Lots and lots of therapy." I returned the smile. "Plus my father keeps giving me pep talks about not enabling your self-destructive tendencies."

"Smart man, your father."

"He is. Which is why you should listen when he tells you to sleep." I moved toward the door. "Go home, Jeremy. Actual home, to an actual bed. Sleep for at least eight hours. Eat a real meal. Then tomorrow, you can talk to your father about a sustainable plan for the rogue hunt."

"You're very bossy."

"Someone has to be, since you clearly can't take care of yourself." I paused at the door. "And Jeremy? I'll be checking with your father. If I find out you went back out hunting tonight instead of resting, there will be consequences."

"What kind of consequences?"

"The kind where I stop trying to rebuild trust with someone who clearly doesn't value his own life enough to take care of it."

The threat was clear. And from the look on his face, he knew I meant it.

"I'll rest," he promised. "Really rest. Not just going through the motions."

"Good." I softened slightly. "I'll see you Thursday. At therapy. Where you will show up well-rested and fed, or Dr. Chen and I will team up to lecture you."

"That sounds terrifying."

"It should be." I opened the door. "Take care of yourself, Jeremy. Not for me. For you."

After I left, I leaned against the hallway wall and took several deep breaths.

That had been harder than I'd expected. Drawing that line, making that ultimatum. But it had been necessary.

Because I'd meant what I said. I couldn't watch him destroy himself. Couldn't enable his guilt-fueled self-destruction by accepting it as love.

He had to choose. Choose healing. Choose sustainability. Choose life.

And if he couldn't do that, then I had to choose myself.

Even if it broke my heart.

Even if I still loved him.

Sometimes love meant walking away.

I just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

My phone buzzed. A text from Alpha Richard: "Thank you. For what you said to him. I've been trying to get through for weeks."

"Is he really going to rest?" I typed back.

"I'm making sure of it. Already assigned wolves to handle tonight's intelligence briefing. Jeremy's going home to sleep whether he likes it or not."

"Good. Thank you."

I headed to training, trying to focus on teaching self-defense to young wolves instead of worrying about Jeremy.

But I couldn't stop thinking about his face. The exhaustion. The desperation. The fear of failing to protect me.

He was trying so hard. Too hard.

And if he didn't learn balance, didn't learn to let others help, it would kill him.

Just not as dramatically as bullets or claws.

Slowly. Through burnout and exhaustion and the relentless weight of guilt.

I couldn't let that happen.

Even if it meant drawing hard lines.

Even if it meant walking away if he couldn't choose himself.

Because sometimes the most loving thing you can do is refuse to enable someone's self-destruction.

Even when it breaks your heart.

Even when all you want is to hold them and promise everything will be okay.

Sometimes love means being the one who says: enough.

I just hoped Jeremy would listen.

Before it was too late.