10. Jax
Chapter 10
Jax
T he steering wheel creaks under my grip as I watch Stone through the windshield. He’s standing at the edge of the drive, staring at his phone like it holds answers to questions I didn’t know he had.
“He’s been weird all morning,” I murmur. “More than usual.”
I glance over to the passenger seat, but no one’s there. Ren doesn’t sit there anymore and Stone, well Stone’s always preferred relaxing in the back.
Ren grunts from the back seat, not bothering to look up as he scrolls through something on his tablet. Probably the quarterly reports we need to review today. I can almost feel his focus, that razor-sharp intensity that’s become his armor lately. His jaw twitches slightly—a tell I’ve learned means he’s using the job to push back against something else that’s been constantly threatening to come to the fore. That darkness that’s always simmering just beneath his surface.
Fuck, I can’t even talk to him about it. I’ve been doing the same thing. Focusing on other things to take my mind off the fact that we’re all breaking inside .
My gaze shifts back to Stone. As pack alpha, I should know what’s going on with my people. Should sense it. But lately…
My chest aches with that hollow feeling that’s been plaguing us all. There’s a hole straight in the center of our pack bond and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. Movement at the window above makes my gaze shift to the house and I spot Finn watching us from the gallery room.
Haven’t seen him there in a while. He used to go there just to admire Ren’s paintings. But then again, the reason he hasn’t been there is because Ren hasn’t been there either. I can’t remember the last time Ren painted, well, anything. And yet, that dangerous energy that rolls through him like waves has been muted lately. I don’t dare to ask why.
A part of me doesn’t want to know how he’s managing to calm himself.
Maybe I’m scared to know the truth.
Or maybe it’s because I know the truth might not break me, but him . Our omega that’s watching us through the window. Watching us leave again.
I give Finn a slight wave, and when a moment passes where he doesn’t wave back, something clenches hard in my chest.
But then he barely lifts his hand.
It doesn’t ease that tension gripping my heart. All we want to do is protect you, Finn .
“Traffic’s going to be shit if we don’t leave soon,” Ren says, but there’s no real heat in it. We’re all too tired for heat lately.
When Stone finally pockets his phone and heads toward the SUV, his usual predatory grace is off. Distracted. His scent when he slides into the back seat next to Ren carries notes I can’t quite read.
“Sorry,” he says, the word clipped.
I pull out of the drive, watching him in the rearview. Four years running Iron Fitness together, and I’ve never seen him this tightly wound. Then again, we’re all wound tight these days.
But the silence in the car feels different today. Usually, we’d be discussing the new location opening in Burlington, or the staff issues at the downtown facility. Instead, Stone’s staring out the window like he’s somewhere else entirely, and Ren’s radiating that low-grade tension he gets when pack bonds feel strained.
“Meeting with the investors first thing this morning,” I say, mostly to break the quiet. “They want to discuss expanding into CrossFit-specific facilities.”
Ren makes a noise of acknowledgment. Stone doesn’t react at all.
The hollow ache in my chest pulses, and I catch myself reaching for the mating mark at my neck. Again. It’s become a tell I hate—this constant need to touch the bond that should be perfect but somehow isn’t. Through the rearview, I see Stone do the same thing, his fingers brushing his collar before he catches himself.
We all do it now. All of us except Ren. But he has reason to be so cold. Trauma does that. Even to an alpha.
“Stone.” I keep my voice level, but there’s enough of an alpha command in it to demand attention. “You good to handle the trainer evaluations today?”
He starts slightly, like I’ve pulled him from somewhere far away. “Yeah. Of course.”
But he’s lying. I can smell it, even over the car’s recycled air. And Stone doesn’t lie to me. Not ever.
Something’s very wrong with my pack, and I don’t know how to fix any of it.
The city crawls past our windows, all steel and glass reaching toward a darkening sky. Usually, I enjoy this drive. It gives us time to sync up before diving into the day’s chaos. But the silence stretches, heavy with things unsaid.
My phone buzzes. A text from Finn in the group chat.
It’s going to rain. Be safe.
Hope you liked the chicken, Stone .
I glance at Stone through the rearview, catching when he winces the moment he reads the message.
“Was it good?” Ren asks, setting the tablet down as he leans back, one hand running through his curly dark hair. Blue eyes shift to the window as he watches the city go by.
Stone doesn’t respond.
I frown slightly. I don’t remember seeing Stone eat anything. Last time I looked, all our dinners were still wrapped in that carefully meticulous way Finn wraps them before putting them in the fridge.
“Was what good?” Stone is staring out the window too, fingers drumming on his knee.
Ren makes a sound in his throat. “The chicken, dumbass.”
Stone shrugs. “It was alright.”
Silence fills the SUV again.
“We should do something,” I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth. A desperate attempt at…what? Making this right? “This weekend. All of us. It’s been…”
It’s been too long since we’ve done anything as a pack that wasn’t just existing in the same space. Too long since movie nights or dinner together felt…normal.
“Something simple,” I continue, but the words taste dry. Because we’ve tried. Game nights that ended with Finn retreating to the nest. Pack runs where the bond felt stretched tissue-paper thin. “Maybe get something to eat and?—”
“Pack dinner?” Ren’s laugh holds no humor. “Sure, because sitting around pretending we’re not all walking on eggshells is exactly what we need.” He runs a hand through his dark hair again before crossing his arms over his chest. I catch the scars through the rearview mirror. How they stretch across his fingers. It’s been years and they haven’t faded. Like everything else that marks him—visible or not.
“You can’t fix everything with family meals, Jax,” he adds, softer now. “Some things stay broken.” The words carry weight, and I wonder if he’s talking about the pack or himself.
Stone shifts in the back seat, a subtle movement that draws both our attention. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on something far beyond the passing buildings.
“Stone?” I prompt.
He lets out a long breath. “Don’t you think we’ve had enough chances at ‘pack dinner’?” He doesn’t even look my way. “Anyway, I can’t this weekend,” he says. “Got something I need to handle.”
The lie hits my nose, sharp and acrid. I meet Ren’s gaze, only to see the coldness grow in his. Stone doesn’t just skip pack time. Doesn’t just lie about it. Stone’s my second. He’s always been the one trying to mend the fact we’re breaking apart even when I couldn’t.
I pull into the parking garage beneath Iron Fitness’s main office, sliding the SUV into its usual spot. None of us move to get out immediately. The weight of Stone’s lie sits between us like a leaden weight.
“Everything okay?” I finally ask, turning in my seat to look at him directly. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing.”
Stone’s expression shutters closed so fast it’s almost painful to watch. “Just busy with the new trainer certification program.” Another lie. “Need to review the curriculum this weekend.”
Ren’s scent spikes with frustration, that familiar bitter edge creeping in—the one that appears whenever our pack's fragile balance tilts. “Since when do you work on certification stuff alone?” he asks, voice deceptively casual but fingers drumming against his thigh in that rhythm that usually precedes his outbursts. “That’s literally why we have a team.”
“Since now,” Stone snaps, and there’s enough bite in his tone that both Ren and I go still. Stone doesn’t snap. Not at us.
The hollow feeling in my chest deepens. First Finn, now Stone. My pack is fracturing. The bad thing is, I know exactly when the first crack threaded between us. Two and a half years ago. A night none of us seem to be able to forget. A night none of us can move past.
“Stone—” I begin, but he’s already opening the door, cutting me off. Fuck. An alpha command rises in my throat, but I cut it off. Gentleness isn’t my thing. I’m trying really fucking hard.
“We’re going to be late for the investor meeting,” he says, voice carefully neutral again. But his scent…his scent is all wrong. Anxious. Guilty. Protective?
I catch Ren’s eye again as Stone walks toward the elevator. Rage usually looks like fire in the eyes. In Ren’s, it looks like pure, cold ice.
The walk to the elevator and then down the corridor to our office floor is silent.
“The meeting starts in ten,” I say, my voice carrying that natural alpha resonance that makes the betas in the office straighten unconsciously the moment we enter. It’s not a command—I’m really fucking trying not to use those—but it reminds them who’s in charge. Who’s responsible for their safety and success.
Lately, that responsibility feels heavier. The pack bond pulses with tension, and I catch myself scanning the office, cataloging potential threats, even though this is our fucking domain.
The investor meeting goes about as well as can be expected. Stone sits through it, perfectly professional, saying all the right things about expansion projections and market demographics. But he keeps tapping the table with his fingers as if he’s got something else to do. Something urgent. Important.
By the time we break for lunch, the tension in the conference room has most of our beta employees making excuses to eat elsewhere. Can’t blame them. Three agitated alphas in one space tends to set everyone’s teeth on edge.
I retreat to my office after, trying to focus on the stack of contracts requiring my signature. But my attention keeps drifting through the glass wall to Stone’s office across from mine. Something’s definitely off. Thank god for glass walls. I can see he’s been on his phone more times in the last hour than I’ve seen in the past month. Each time someone enters to hand him something, the screen disappears so fast you’d think he was hiding classified intel.
“He’s doing it again,” Ren mutters from the doorway of my office, nodding toward Stone’s desk. His energy is deceptively calmer, but I can see the tension in how he holds himself—too still, too controlled. I watch him for a moment, unsure I should even ask how he managed to temporarily leash the rage this time.
Whatever method he’s using, it never lasts long.
My gaze shifts to where he’s looking.
Sure enough, Stone’s looking at his phone, but this time there’s something else in his expression. Something downright…frightening. When an unsuspecting employee from accounting stops by his door, the poor beta gets a growl that makes her wither as if she was an omega.
“Has he said anything to you?” I ask Ren, though I already know the answer.
“No.” Ren leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “But he skipped the trainer meeting. Stone never skips trainer meetings.”
That ache in my chest pulses again. I reach for my neck and stop myself. “Said he had to take a call.”
“Yeah.” Ren’s voice is flat. “A forty-five-minute call that apparently required him to be outside.”
Throughout the afternoon, Stone’s behavior only gets more concerning. He disappears for another “call” around three. Returns smelling like anxiety and something else I can’t place. When our HR manager tries to schedule a meeting about the new hire orientation, Stone practically bites his head off before catching himself and apologizing.
By five, I’ve given up pretending to work. I’m just watching him, cataloging each strange moment. The way he keeps checking his watch. How he’s packed up his desk fifteen minutes earlier than usual, computer already shut down, jacket on .
“Ready?” I ask, stepping out of my office. Stone isn’t one to work late like me and Ren, but he never usually hurries to leave either.
“Yeah,” he says, already heading for the elevator. No casual chat with the staff. No checking in about tomorrow’s schedule. Just…gone. What in the fuck is going on? My brows furrow.
“The Burlington location needs—” Stone starts, voice reaching me over his shoulder.
“I’ll handle it,” I cut in, alpha command just at the edges of my tone before I catch myself. Force my voice softer. But Stone’s already tensed, and Ren’s scent spikes with that familiar bitter note.
Ren grunts. “Walking a fine line there, Jax.” When my gaze meets his, that icy glare doesn’t flinch. His eyes are like pointed ice picks as we pile into the elevator. “God forbid we make a decision without running it past our mighty pack alpha first.” The words drip sarcasm, but there’s something else there. Something that smells like old pain. The strain of maintaining his facade all day seems to finally snap as the elevator doors close, cutting us off from the watching eyes of the betas. And that dark energy? It’s returned. As if the effects of whatever he did earlier have just disappeared in a split second.
“Ren,” Stone warns, but I wave him off.
“No, he’s right.” I lean back, studying them both. My second and my…what? My fighter? The pack’s protector? The one who keeps our darker secrets? “We need to talk about this. All of it.”
“Talk?” Ren’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’s rich, coming from you. When’s the last time you really talked to Finn? When’s the last time any of us did?”
The words burst out like he’s been holding them back for weeks, not just today. They hit me like a punch. Fuck, it would have been better if he had punched me. Then I’d have an excuse for the rage threatening to sear me from within. The same rage I’m trying my damnedest to control. Because if I fall, we all do. I’m the one who is supposed to be holding all this together .
And he’s right. We’ve all been so busy protecting Finn from our demons that we’ve left him alone with his.
The drive home is worse than this morning. Stone’s leg bounces restlessly in the back seat, his scent a mess of emotions I can’t untangle. And Ren, he’s like a dark cloud hovering over us all. By the time we hit the freeway, the rain’s pouring down hard, as if directly influenced by our moods.
We’re barely in the driveway when Stone’s opening the door, not even waiting for me to fully stop. The rain is pelting down hard, but he’s out and heading for the house before Ren and I can even unbuckle our seatbelts.