บททั้งหมดของ Her Alpha’s Kryptonite: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

Jasmine’s POV Marc fell asleep faster than I expected, and I smiled at the fact that the resort had worn him out completely. He insisted on telling me every detail about the craft session before bed, how he painted a wooden wolf because grey wolves were boring. So he decided that the color blue was what he wanted. And by the time he reached the story of the duck that he decided silently and secretly ran to the lake, his eyelids had already begun to droop. Now he slept peacefully beneath the wide comforter with one arm wrapped around the stuffed wolf Zea had bought him years ago from a discount store. I brushed the curls away from his forehead. "You did good today," I whispered. “I was so scared that you wouldn't manage, but I'm glad that you did. Thank you for this.” He mumbled something inaudible in his sleep. Then he smiled and my heart softened. Every lie and every fake document, sleepless night and worries seemed to slide off my shoulders.Because this was all worth it, see

Tristan’s POV The resort room felt smaller in the middle of the night, the kind of quiet that pressed in from all sides. I sat in the armchair I’d pulled closer to the bed hours ago, elbows on my knees, watching. Jasmine was on the left side of the mattress, perched on the edge like she might need to spring up at any second. Her hand rested near Marc’s shoulder, not quite touching, but close enough that she could feel every shift in his breathing. None of us had spoken in a long while. The only sounds were Marc’s uneven breaths and the faint hum of the air conditioning. The fever still held him. His small face was flushed, curls damp against his forehead. Every few minutes his body would tense, then ease again, like his wolf was wrestling something inside him and neither side was winning yet. I kept my hands clasped so I wouldn’t reach out. My wolf paced restlessly under my skin, but the curse kept it leashed in that familiar, painful way. Black veins were faintly visible along my

Jasmine’s POV The resort dining hall buzzed with the usual midday chatter, forks clinking, kids laughing, staff moving between tables with practiced smiles. I sat with Marc and Zea near the windows, picking at a salad while Marc told us for the third time about the treasure hunt scheduled for later. The morning had settled into something almost normal after the fever, and I was trying hard to keep it that way. Then the doors opened and the energy in the room shifted. Fabian Clay walked in like he owned the place, even though I knew he didn’t. Tall, polished, with that blond hair and icy blue eyes that scanned the room like he was cataloguing every detail. He moved with the relaxed authority of a man who knew he wasn’t welcome and had decided to enjoy the discomfort he caused. Conversations dipped around him. A few people recognized him as the rival alpha, tech empire, or the name that made Tristan’s jaw tighten in meetings. I saw him before he saw me. Three seconds, that was all

Jasmine’s POV The gravel path crunched under my shoes as I walked away from the kids’ activity area. Marc was still glued to his craft table with Zea keeping watch, laughing at something another child said. I needed a few minutes alone. The morning had been too much, with Fabian’s arrival, the standoff with Tristan, and the way my thoughts kept circling back to last night. The air out here smelled clean, and cooler than the stuffy dining hall. I kept my eyes on the path ahead, arms crossed loosely over my chest, trying to breathe through the knot that had settled behind my ribs since breakfast. I didn’t hear him approach at first. One moment I was walking alone. The next, Fabian Clay fell into step beside me without asking permission. His presence registered calmly, but it was impossible to ignore. I kept looking straight ahead, my jaw tight. If I acknowledged him too quickly, it gave him ground. I’d learned that lesson on the streets a long time

Jasmine’s POV The days after the resort passed in a quiet blur that felt comforting. We were back in our cramped apartment, with its familiar creaky floors and the faint smell of laundry soap mixed with the aroma of food, we settled back into our old rhythm. Where mornings meant rushed breakfasts and school drop-offs. Afternoons were filled with my shifts at Apex and school pickups. Evenings were story time and Marc’s endless questions about wolves and stars and why the moon looked different some nights. I told myself the retreat had been nothing more than a brief escape from reality. A week of forced proximity and complicated feelings that didn’t belong in our real life. Tristan and I kept things strictly professional at work. We exchanged polite nods in the hallway. And sent professional emails about reports to each other when need arises. I convinced myself that it was for the best. The memories from the resort lingered in the back of my mind like half-remembered dreams. They di