บททั้งหมดของ Her Alpha’s Kryptonite: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Jasmine’s POV “Jasmine,” he said, voice low and controlled. “Breathe. Slow. I’m right here.” I nodded jerkily, focusing on pulling air in through my nose and out through my mouth the way I had taught Marc during his fevers. The heat peaked, held, then slowly receded, leaving my skin tender and my pulse racing. When I finally sat back on the mat, legs crossed, the gym felt too quiet, the mirrors reflected two sweaty, exhausted people who had just crossed another invisible line. Tristan sat across from me on the opposite side of the mat, giving me space. The silence lingered between us, thick with everything unsaid. Part of me wanted to grab my bag and leave, to process alone like I always did. But the question that had been haunting me since the resort wouldn’t stay buried anymore. I wiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and met his Tristan’s eyes. “Why?” The word came out rough, and tired. I didn’t elaborate at first, because I didn’t need to. He knew exactly wha

Jasmine’s POV News spread through Apex Dynamics like smoke from a distant fire, quiet at first, then thick enough that no one could ignore it. The news about rogue-related attacks had drawn the attention of the authorities. This was not the usual street scuffles or territory disputes that the packs handled internally. These were different, coordinated and violent in a way that left bodies in places that couldn’t be easily explained away as gang violence or accidents. With tensions already high between the werewolf community and law enforcement, the company announced that Randall Shelton, a renowned investigator known for solving complex supernatural crimes, had been brought in to lead the inquiry. The atmosphere shifted immediately. The open-plan office on my floor grew quieter by midday. Conversations in the break room dropped to murmurs. People who usually laughed over anything now glanced over their shoulders before speaking. HR sent a company-wide email reminding everyone to co

Jasmine’s POV I sat at my desk, fingers moving across the keys as I finalized a quarterly summary, but my mind kept drifting. Randall Shelton’s interview yesterday had left a mark. The way his eyes had lingered on my reactions to the crime scene photos. The careful way he had mumbled that sentence. The crack in the amulet pressing against my skin like a constant reminder that the suppression was failing. I touched it absently through my blouse, tracing the fine line in the rune, and tried to focus on the numbers in front of me. The office floor was quieter than usual. The attacks and the investigator’s presence had everyone on edge. People spoke in lower voices. Glances lingered a second too long. Even the senior staff who usually carried themselves with confidence moved with more caution. I kept my head down, but inside the unease from the briefing refused to settle. Randall knew I had noticed details. He hadn’t accused me of anything though, but the observation itself felt like a

Jesse’s POV The door to the filling room was slightly ajar, a sign that someone was working inside. I paused in the doorway, resting my shoulder against the frame, arms crossed over my chest as I watched Jasmine Trivett. She had her back to me, her hair pulled into a neat braid that fell between her shoulder blades. Her fingers moved through the open cabinet drawers with a kind of quiet efficiency gained from working in the same space for years. She pulled one folder, scanned it, slid it back, and reached for another—all in smooth, practiced motions. I didn’t announce myself, I just stood there, letting the moment stretch. The overhead lights hummed softly. A printer whirred in the distance down the hall. The rest of the floor had mostly cleared out for the day, leaving that particular after-hours quiet. Her shoes shifted on the tile as she reached for a higher shelf. I pulled out my phone without fully deciding to do it. The camera clicked once, capturing the scene—her back, the o

Jasmine’s POVThe gym sessions were nightly now, I no longer needed an invitation or a reminder. I showed up after tucking Marc in bed, my gym bag over my shoulder, and ready for the day’s training. Tristan was always already there. He had stopped asking if I was sure and I had stopped pretending this was temporary. We both understood what the sessions had become. I was building toward the version of myself that never had to calculate exits again. The version that could stand between Marc and anything that came for him without freezing or running or relying on luck.He pushed my reflexes past anything he had asked of me before. With faster combinations, harder pressure and less time between strikes. I matched everything because the alternative was unacceptable. Every time I blocked cleanly or redirected his weight, something settled deeper in my chest, a quiet, growing certainty that I was becoming capable. That the powerlessness I had felt when the rogue followed us home was being re