Chapter 19 Jabari
JABARI
From a distance, the carnival looked like it had swallowed the night and spit it back out in color.
Snow clung to the edges of the lot in crusted piles, dirty from boots and salt and the city slush that never stayed pretty past the first hour.
The pathways were striped white where somebody had thrown down grit, and it crunched underfoot.
Strings of bulbs looped over the fairgrounds in uneven lines—some sagging, some tight—bright enough to make the shadows beneath them look darker by comparison.
Every breath in the crowd came out white and fast and laughing.
Music thudded against the air in lazy waves.
A bass line rolled through the cold. Screams rose from rides and collapsed into laughter.
The scent of sugar and grease drifted all the way to where I stood near the edge of the lot, mingling with perfume, weed, funnel cake, hot chocolate, and somebody’s cologne that tried too hard.
I stayed far enough back to call it giving space.
Close enough to put a bullet through anyone who forgot they had hands.
I told myself—again, repeating it could make it true—that Nyx wasn’t theirs.
That she wasn’t anybody’s.
I should’ve been able to think the sentence without my jaw tightening.
It tightened anyway.
Because I had treated her like property once. Because my hands remembered what they’d done. Because my pride still wanted to pretend it wasn’t my fault her body flinched first and trusted later.
Nyx was Kairo’s tonight. He’d called dibs. Loud and playful. He’d marched her through Meridian’s lobby with their fingers laced together and that grin of his wide enough to invite a fight, then dragged Elijah and me along.
He didn’t bring bodyguards.
He brought us.
That message wasn’t aimed at the carnival.
It was aimed at Chicago. At Meridian’s enemies. Anyone watching Pack Meridian.
I told myself I didn’t care.
That was the lie I kept feeding my instincts.
I cared anyway, and the caring I did wasn’t sweet. It didn’t feel like a poem.
It felt like a stone lodged in my gut—heavy, quiet, mean. The kind that made you steady your breathing so nobody could see it hit.
Kairo cared loud. Bright-eyed and restless. I watched Nyx move through the crowd and felt that old possessive itch under my skin—not because I had any right to own her, but because my instincts didn’t understand how to stop reaching for what they’d already touched.
Nyx laughed when Kairo handed her something sweet. Powdered sugar dusted her fingers. The laugh came quick, surprised.
It punched me straight in the chest.
She didn’t laugh like that inside Meridian. In the tower, she carried herself —sharp, necessary, always braced. Out here, with cheap lights and noise and chaos, she looked younger around the edges. Softer in a way that didn’t mean weak.
Kairo’s arm settled around her shoulders. He didn’t trap. He didn’t squeeze. He just held her.
Nyx leaned into him.
A small motion. An inch of trust.
My throat tightened so hard I had to swallow against it.
Elijah stood a few yards away, posture relaxed, gaze sweeping patterns instead of faces. To anybody else he looked detached.
I knew him well enough to see the tells.
His focus narrowed every time Nyx’s scent shifted. Every time Kairo positioned himself between her and the press of bodies. Elijah wasn’t jealous—Elijah didn’t do jealousy. He measured. He counted. He predicted outcomes and cut off problems before they could breathe.
“Do not start,” Elijah said without looking at me.
I didn’t answer, because if I opened my mouth, something ugly might come out. I didn’t trust my tongue tonight.
“You are scowling,” he added.
“I am watching,” I said.
“You are watching like you want to break something.”
I flexed my hands. The scars on my knuckles pulled tight. The old burn reminded me what my hands were for. Reminded me what I’d used them for when I shouldn’t have.
“Somebody has to,” I said. “This crowd’s too loose. Folks get bold when they think the lights make ’em untouchable.”
Elijah’s mouth twitched. “Kairo is doing fine.”
That was the problem.
Kairo was doing more than fine.
A scream went up from the Ferris wheel as it climbed. Kairo tipped his head back and laughed. Nyx kept her gaze forward, but I saw the way she shifted in the seat—posture tightening.
The car crested the arc of the wheel. Lights flared behind it. Their silhouettes went sharp against the glow—two bodies leaning close, Kairo’s head bent toward hers, Nyx turned into him.
I couldn’t scent her from where I stood. Not through the crowd, the grease-heavy air, the thrum of music and laughter.
I didn’t need scent to understand what I was seeing.
The body tells the truth even when the mouth stays quiet.
Kairo’s arm lifted—no ownership, no trap—just bracing her from the open space. Nyx’s shoulders softened by inches.
It hit me low and violent.
It wasn’t jealousy the way boys mean it—petty, loud, embarrassing.
It was hunger.
Want so plain it made my teeth ache, because I wanted what Kairo had earned and I wanted to earn it too. Not take it. Earn it.
Kairo leaned close and spoke into her ear. Whatever he said made Nyx exhale Her omega eased against him and the air around them—what I could feel from where I stood—shifted warm and settled.
Elijah straightened by half an inch. I felt his attention sharpen.
I didn’t move.
Every feral instinct in me wanted to close the distance and cage and control, and I had already proven what kind of damage that caused. If I let my body lead, I’d be the villain again.
My phone vibrated against my thigh. Once. Then again.
I didn’t pull it out right away. Looking too fast was the same as pointing, and predators notice tells.
Elijah’s gaze slid down to his own screen. His thumb moved in a quick, precise answer. A second later, I checked mine.
Elijah
UNDERWORLD COUNCIL. SNIFFING AROUND. NORTH ENTRANCE.
The words sat heavy.
The Underworld Council didn’t show up anywhere without a reason, and they didn’t sniff unless they thought blood was in the water.
I let my gaze drift slow.
He stood just outside the press of bodies with his hands in his pockets and his posture too clean. He didn’t laugh when other folks laughed. Didn’t look up at the wheel. His eyes stayed fixed on Nyx and Kairo.
Elijah didn’t have to say a word. The problem had already been named.
I sent him two words.
Me
ON IT.
Then I moved without rushing and without making a show.
A Southern gentleman doesn’t run unless he wants folks to know there’s a fire, and I wasn’t about to set Nyx’s nerves off for somebody else’s curiosity.
I cut a wide arc through the fairgrounds, staying under the brightest bulbs so I wouldn’t look like I was hiding.
People stepped around me without thinking twice.
Big men in dark coats don’t read as friendly, but they do read as purposeful.
By the time I reached him, I could smell cheap cologne and that faint metallic tang a man carries when he’s armed and too sure of himself.
I stopped at his side and leaned in with an easy smile.
“Evenin’,” I said, voice smooth as church shoes. “You lost, or you lookin’ for trouble on purpose?”
His body tensed. His hand dipped toward his pocket.
I caught his wrist before he could finish the move.
Not yanking. Not making a scene. Just pressure. Firm. Controlled.
I guided him two steps into the shadow where the lights couldn’t catch details. My voice stayed soft, the kind of warning a man gives when he’s trying to keep things private.
“You don’t get to stare at our omega without permission,” I murmured.
He tried to pull free.
I tightened my grip just enough for pain to bloom, and his breath hitched. His pulse jumped under my fingers. The truth of him showed itself no matter how steady he tried to act.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” I said, still smiling. “You’re gonna walk back to whoever sent you, and you’re gonna say Meridian saw you.”
His jaw clenched.
“Then you’re gonna forget what you saw tonight, or I’ll help you forget it in a way you won’t enjoy.”
His eyes flicked toward my coat. Toward the shape he couldn’t see but could feel.
He swallowed and nodded once, but he didn’t look sorry. He looked like a man storing information.
I slid his phone free, thumbed it awake, deleted the photo he thought he’d taken, then tucked it back into his pocket.
“Be a good boy,” I said, mild as sweet tea. “Stay outta our business.”
He hesitated like he wanted to say something brave. Then he leaned in, voice low enough for the music to eat it.
“Council’s curious,” he murmured. “Curiosity turns into meetings. Meetings turn into decisions, and decisions turn into consequences.”
My smile didn’t change.
My eyes did.
“Tell your Council to keep their noses out of Meridian’s yard,” I said. “Before somebody gets bit.”
I released him. He left without running. I didn’t give him the dignity of panic.
My phone buzzed again. Elijah’s message was short.
Elijah
CLEAR.
I lifted my gaze across the lot until I caught Elijah’s eyes and gave him one small nod. Then I looked back toward the Ferris wheel.
The car rocked as it settled at the platform.
I saw them before they hit the ramp because the air around them looked different. Their scents were louder now, threaded together, the bond between them bright enough to catch hold of a man from across a crowd.
Nyx turned her head, and the lights found the side of her neck.
A fresh bite mark sat high near her claiming gland. Dark and unmistakable. Angry, tender, and unrepentant.
Kairo shifted at once, fingers sliding into her hair to pull it forward and cover what he’d done.
He wasn’t fast enough to fool anybody.
He damn sure wasn’t fast enough to fool me.
His eyes snapped to mine as they stepped off the ramp, and his whole posture changed. Not loud. Not chest out. Just that quiet, territorial placement of his body between her and the rest of the world.
Then Nyx gave herself away.