Chapter 4 - Jade

This alpha is lucky I don’t punch him in the throat.

Watching Alec walk away, stiff and barely containing his anger, makes my blood red-hot. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of whatever twisted power play Damien thinks he’s running.

Alec took the brunt of the heat for helping me—me and Penny—and all Damien could do was strut around like the king of the mountain, reminding everyone who’s in charge. My nails dig into my palms so hard it hurts, but I can’t stop myself. I’m so angry I could scream.

I can’t just let this go. Not this time.

Before I can think better of it, I stomp toward Damien, grabbing his arm and yanking him off to the side of the chapel, away from the prying eyes of pack members and elders. He doesn’t resist. He’s too caught off-guard to react, and for a second, I almost enjoy the flash of surprise in his eyes. Good. He should be surprised. I’m not playing by his rules anymore.

“What the hell was that?” I hiss as soon as we’re out of earshot.

Damien raises his eyebrows so high, his forehead wrinkles. “What are you talking about?”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. It’s the kind of laugh that comes from years of frustration breaking free near to the point of hysteria. “Are you serious? You just laid into my brother for helping me! You know, the thing he did because you and your father decided I wasn’t worth keeping around anymore?”

His jaw tightens, and I see the faintest flicker of guilt in his eyes, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared. “Alec made his choice. He knew the consequences of breaking the alpha’s orders, and he’s lucky all I did was bitch at him a little.”

“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes and step so close, we’re practically nose to nose. “You don’t get to hide behind that alpha bullshit with me, Damien. This is on you. You made the decision to banish me. You put Alec in an impossible position, and now he’s paying for it because you refuse to admit that maybe—just maybe—you were wrong.”

His face hardens, but there’s something else in his eyes now. Anger, maybe. Or frustration. But he doesn’t back down. He never does.

“This isn’t about Alec,” he tells me, his voice lowering to that dangerous, quiet tone he uses when he’s trying to assert control. “This is about the pack. About keeping order. If you can’t see that, then—”

“Oh, spare me the ‘for the pack’ speech,” I snap, cutting him off. I’m not about to let him use that excuse again. Not after everything he’s already done in the name of for the pack . “You’ve been playing that card since the moment you dragged me back here. But let’s be real for a second, shall we? This isn’t just about the pack, is it? You couldn’t stand the idea of someone else helping me. Of Alec stepping in when you were the one who abandoned me.”

There it is. The truth, raw and unfiltered, and it’s dangling in the air between us like a bomb waiting to explode.

Damien’s eyes flash with something—something dark and dangerous—and he takes a step closer, his broad frame towering over me. “Careful, Jade.”

“Or what?” I cross my arms, refusing to back down even as my heart pounds in my chest. “You’ll throw me out again? Ban Alec, too? Is that your grand plan? Because newsflash, Damien—you don’t get to control me. Not anymore. You need me, not the other way around.”

His nostrils flare, and for a split second, I think he might snap. But then, just as quickly, he reins it in and takes a slow, controlled breath. The alpha mask slips back into place.

“You think running is the answer?” His voice is low, almost a growl. “You think disappearing again is going to solve anything? If you leave, you’ll be putting yourself—and Penny—in danger. Is that what you want?”

The mention of Penny makes my heart squeeze, and for a moment, I falter. I hate that he’s right. I hate that no matter how much I want to throw his words back in his face, the reality is that Penny is in danger. The world outside the pack’s borders isn’t safe, especially not for someone like her. Someone like me.

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let Damien use her as a pawn to manipulate me.

“I’ll take my chances,” I bite out. “Anything is better than letting you control every aspect of my life.”

His hand shoots out to grab my arm, but I jerk away before he can get a proper grip. My skin burns where his fingers brushed me, and I hate the way my body reacts to him even now, after everything. I hate that part of me still remembers what it felt like to be close to him.

But this isn’t about that. This isn’t about us—if there ever really was an “us.” This is about survival. And right now, I’m doing everything I can to survive.

“I mean it, Damien,” I warn him. “If you don’t stop pushing Alec—if you don’t let him off the hook—I’ll disappear. And this time, you won’t find me.”

His eyes darken, and for a moment, I think I’ve finally hit a nerve. The air between us crackles with tension, thick and suffocating. I can see the anger in his eyes, the frustration boiling beneath the surface, but he doesn’t speak. For once, Damien Lucas—the all-powerful alpha—has nothing to say.

Good.

I hold my ground, refusing to let him see how much my heart is racing, how terrified I am of what might come next. I’ve never felt more alone than I do at this moment. No pack. No home. My brother caught in the crossfire, and my daughter depending on me to make the right call.

I can’t help but wish—just for a second—that my parents were still here. They would know what to do. They always had the answers, always knew how to guide me. Without them, I feel like I’m stumbling in the dark, trying to find my way. At least, that’s how it’s always felt. But maybe I’ve been idolizing them, holding onto an image of them that isn’t entirely real.

After all, they never told me I was a witch. I can’t ask them why, but I can guess—maybe they kept it a secret because half-witches don’t always show their powers. Maybe they hoped I’d never develop them, that I’d fit in with the pack and wouldn’t have to face being different. I already couldn’t shift, and maybe they didn’t want to make me feel worse.

I take a deep breath and push those thoughts aside. My parents are gone. They’ve been gone for years, and wishing for them won’t change the fact that I’m standing here, alone, facing off against a man who has the power to ruin everything all over again.

“We both know you’re not going anywhere,” Damien finally comments. “You can pretend all you want, but you know as well as I do that leaving would be suicide—for you and Penny. Like I said, I’ll protect her. Both of you. If you stay, I’ll make sure nothing happens to her. You have my word.”

“Your word means nothing to me.”

Before he can respond, a tiny voice cuts through the tension, shattering the moment like a fragile piece of glass.

“Mama?”

I whirl around, and there she is—Penny—standing a few feet away. She looks up at me, then at Damien, completely unaware of the storm raging between us.

“I’m sleepy, Mama,” she grumbles, rubbing her eyes with her chubby little hand.

Damien’s eyes flicker down to Penny, and for a split second, I see something in his expression shift. Something softer, more human. And I hate it. Hate that he can go from hard alpha to this… version of himself that almost looks like he cares.

But I’m not falling for it. Not now, not ever again.

I lift Penny in my arms and hold her close, trying to shield her from everything that’s happening. The weight of Damien’s stare is heavy, like he’s trying to figure us out, piece together something he’s missing. Well, too bad for him. I’m not giving anything away.

“I’ll take you to my cabin,” Damien announces in that authoritative way. Like I’m supposed to just nod and follow.

His cabin. Of course.

“No,” I hiss, keeping my voice just above a whisper so I don’t alarm Penny. “We’ll stay at the guest house or wherever else you’re putting people you don’t want around.”

I don’t miss the way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes narrow just a fraction. He’s annoyed. Good. I hope he’s furious.

“That’s not how this works,” he says, his voice low. “My mate stays with me. You’re coming to the cabin.”

Mate. He keeps throwing that word around like it’s supposed to mean something. Like it changes everything. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t erase what he did to me. It doesn’t change the fact that I never asked for any of this.

“I don’t care where you think I belong. I’m not your property, Damien. I’m not—”

“You’re coming,” he cuts me off. “And this isn’t up for discussion. You’re my mate, you’ll stay with me. End of story.”

I want to scream at him. I want to throw every bit of anger I’ve been holding onto for the last three years right in his face. But then Penny shifts in my arms and presses her little face against my chest, and I know I can’t do this right now. Not with her here. Not like this.

“Fine,” I say begrudgingly. “But I’m not doing this for you.”

He doesn’t say anything in return. Just gives a stiff nod and turns toward his truck, expecting me to follow. I have half a mind to run in the opposite direction, but I know that’s not an option. Not with Penny.

I follow him to the truck, holding Penny close as I climb into the passenger seat. Damien doesn’t say a word as he gets behind the wheel, and the silence between us is thick enough to choke on. I buckle Penny in, making sure she’s snug under the blanket I packed, and settle back into the seat, trying to ignore the growing unease in my stomach.

The truck rumbles to life, and we start down the winding road toward the woods. The darkness outside is blinding. The trees look like creepy shadows, and it makes my skin crawl. I’ve never liked the woods at night. Too many things hiding in the dark, too many memories I don’t want to revisit. And now Damien is dragging me into the middle of it, to his cabin. To his lair, where he can keep an eye on me.

Perfect.

I steal a glance at him, though his face is barely visible in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. He looks so focused, so in control, like this is just another day for him. Meanwhile, my whole world is crumbling, and he doesn’t seem to care. Typical.

The truck bumps along the dirt road, and I catch glimpses of the trees whipping by with their branches stretching out like claws. It’s quiet out here—too quiet. I hate it.

When we finally pull up in front of the cabin, I lean forward to examine the scene through the windshield. It’s not what I expected. It’s… nice. Rustic, sure, but cozy. The porch wraps around the front, and the soft glow of light from the windows makes it look almost inviting. But I’m not fooled. This place is a trap, no matter how pretty it looks.

Damien climbs out of the truck and comes around to open my door like this is some kind of date. I ignore him and slide out, shifting Penny in my arms as she stirs slightly. Her eyes flutter open for just a second, and my heart aches at how innocent she looks, completely unaware of the mess we’ve just walked into.

“This way,” Damien mutters, already heading up the steps to the porch.

I follow, biting my tongue the whole time. There’s no point in arguing right now, not with Penny so close to waking up. I’ll save that fight for later.

Inside the cabin, the fire is crackling in the stone hearth like something out of a postcard. The furniture is simple, worn but comfortable-looking, and the scent of pine and smoke fills the space. It’s cozy in a way I didn’t expect from Damien.

“Guest room’s down the hall,” Damien tells me as he motions toward the back of the cabin. “You can put Penny to bed.”

I don’t bother to thank him. Instead, I carry Penny down the hall, gently opening the door to the small guest room. It’s simple, just a twin bed and a window looking out over the trees, but it’ll do. I lay her down, tuck the blanket around her, and sit on the edge of the bed for a moment, just watching her sleep.

She doesn’t deserve any of this. She deserves better.

My throat tightens, and I run a hand through her soft hair, brushing it away from her face. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

I can’t let Damien find out the truth about her. Not yet. Not until I figure out what to do and how to protect her. If he knew the truth—if he knew that Penny was his—I don’t even want to think about what might happen.