Chapter 13
Jack
The road north was a ribbon of black ice cutting through a world of white.
I was driving. Eloise was asleep in the passenger seat, her head lolling against the window, her breath fogging the glass.
But after the game, amidst the roaring celebration in the locker room, I had felt the walls closing in. The noise, the expectations, the constant, oppressive weight of the Pack’s future—it was suffocating.
I needed air. I needed silence.
So I grabbed Eloise from the stands—ignoring her father’s glare from the luxury box—and told her we were leaving. She didn't ask where. She just climbed into the truck.
We were two hours north of Ironwood now. Deep in the wild.
I turned onto an unmarked logging road. The truck bounced over the ruts, but Eloise didn't wake up. She was exhausted. The stress of the week had drained her as much as it had me.
I pulled up to the edge of a cliff overlooking Lake Superior.
It was my spot. The place I came when the Wolf was too loud.
I killed the engine. The silence rushed in, heavy and absolute.
Below us, the massive lake stretched out into darkness, frozen near the shore, black and churning further out. The wind howled around the truck, rocking it gently.
I looked at Eloise.
She looked peaceful. Defenseless.
I felt a surge of love so intense it physically hurt. It was a sharp ache in the center of my chest, right where the bond tethered me to her.
"Eloise," I whispered.
She stirred, blinking her eyes open. She looked around, confused.
"Where are we?" she mumbled, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "Are we dead?"
"Not yet," I said softly. "Look."
She looked out the window. Her eyes widened as she took in the vastness of the lake, the moonlight reflecting off the jagged ice sheets below.
"Lake Superior," she breathed. "It looks... endless."
"It’s the only thing big enough to make me feel small," I admitted.
She turned to look at me. In the dashboard light, her face was soft, open.
"Why are we here, Jack?"
I gripped the steering wheel, staring out at the darkness.
"Because I need to tell you something," I said. "And I can't say it back there. Back there, I’m the Captain. I’m the Alpha. Here... I’m just Jack."
"Okay," she said. She shifted in her seat, turning fully toward me. She tucked her legs under her. "I’m listening."
I took a deep breath. The air in the cab was cold, but I was sweating.
"You asked me once why I was so afraid of hurting you," I started. "Why I hold back. Why I treat you like glass."
"I remember," she nodded.
"It’s not because you’re human," I said, my voice tight. "It’s because of what I did. Before."
I looked at my hands. They were large, scarred, capable of violence.
"I was eighteen," I said. "Freshman year. Before I met you. Before I knew what a mate was."
Eloise didn't speak. She just watched me, her eyes steady.
"I had a girlfriend," I continued, forcing the words out. "Sarah. She was human. Sweet. Normal. She didn't know what I was. None of them did."
I swallowed hard. The memory tasted like bile.
"We were at a party. Some guy—her ex—showed up. He was drunk. Aggressive. He grabbed her. He hit her."
I closed my eyes, seeing the scene play out in vivid detail. The sound of the slap. The smell of fear. The red haze dropping over my vision.
"I snapped," I whispered. "I didn't shift fully—too many people—but the Wolf took over. I hit him. Once."
I opened my eyes and looked at Eloise.
"I shattered his orbital bone. Broken jaw. severe concussion. He was in a coma for three weeks."
Eloise’s expression didn't change. She didn't recoil.
"The police came," I said. "My family... the Pack... we have connections. We made it go away. Self-defense. Mutual combat. But Sarah... she saw my eyes. She saw what I did. She looked at me like I was a monster."
I looked back at the lake.
"She was right. I am a monster. I lost control, Eloise. I almost killed a human because I got angry. And ever since then... I’ve been terrified. Terrified that if I let myself feel too much—love, rage, lust—I’ll do it again. And next time, it might be someone I care about."
I turned to her, my eyes pleading.
"That’s why I push you away. That’s why I don't want to knot you. That’s why I sleep on the floor. Because I’m scared that one day, I’ll wake up and realize I broke you."
Silence filled the cab.
I waited for the rejection. I waited for her to tell me I was dangerous, that she couldn't be with someone capable of that kind of violence.
Eloise reached out.
She took my hand—the right hand, the one that had thrown the punch. She interlaced her fingers with mine.
"You were eighteen," she said softly. "You were protecting someone."
"I almost killed him," I argued.
"But you didn't," she said firmly. "And you haven't hurt anyone since. Not like that. You check people on the ice, Jack. You defend your teammates. But you don't hurt people for fun."
She squeezed my hand.
"You’re not a monster," she whispered. "You’re a protector who was never taught how to control his strength. You were a kid with a weapon in his chest and no instruction manual."
Tears pricked my eyes. I blinked them back furiously.
"I’m scared," I admitted, my voice cracking. "I’m scared of how much I want you. It feels like... like fire. It consumes everything."
"Let it burn," she said.
She leaned across the console. She put her hand on my cheek, turning my face to hers.
"I’m not Sarah," she said fiercely. "I know what you are. I’ve seen the Wolf. I’ve seen the glowing eyes. I’ve felt the knot inside me. And I’m not running."
She kissed me.
It was soft, salty with my unshed tears.
"You won't break me, Jack," she promised against my lips. "I’m stronger than I look. And you’re gentler than you think."
I let out a shuddering breath, the weight of the secret finally lifting off my shoulders. She knew the worst of me, and she was still here.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"You don't have to carry it alone anymore," she said, resting her forehead against mine. "We carry it together."
We sat like that for a long time, watching the moon reflect on the frozen lake.
"Eloise?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell me yours," I said. "The thing you don't tell anyone."
She pulled back slightly, looking surprised.
"I don't have a deep dark secret," she deflected, a nervous smile touching her lips. "Unless you count my obsession with bad reality TV."
"Don't lie to me," I said gently. "I just gutted myself for you. Level the playing field."
She sighed, looking down at our joined hands. Her thumb traced my knuckles.
"My mother didn't just leave," she said quietly. "Everyone thinks she left my dad because he was difficult. Or because she found someone else."
She took a deep breath.
"She left because of me."
I frowned. "That’s impossible. Who would leave you?"
"She was a skater too," Eloise said, staring out at the darkness. "She was beautiful. Talented. But she never made the Olympics. She got injured. So when I was born... I became the second chance."
She swallowed hard.
"She pushed me. Harder than my dad ever did. 4:00 AM practices. Weigh-ins. Screaming at me when I fell. I was six years old, Jack. And I hated it. I cried every day."
She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering.
"When I was ten, I quit. I took off my skates and told her I never wanted to see ice again. I threw a tantrum. I screamed that I hated her."
A tear slid down her cheek.
"She left the next day. Packed a bag. Left a note for my dad saying she 'couldn't watch me waste my potential.' She moved to Europe. I haven't seen her since."
She wiped the tear away angrily.
"So that’s why I skate," she whispered. "That’s why I’m a perfectionist. Because deep down, I think if I win Gold... if I’m perfect enough... maybe she’ll come back. Maybe she’ll love me again."
She looked at me, vulnerability raw and bleeding in her eyes.
"Pathetic, right? Twenty-one years old and still trying to impress a ghost."
I felt a rage so hot it almost melted the windshield. Rage at her mother. Rage at her father. Rage at anyone who had ever made this incredible, strong, beautiful woman feel like she wasn't enough.
I pulled her across the console. It was awkward, stumbling, but I dragged her into my lap. She curled up against me, burying her face in my neck.
"It’s not pathetic," I growled into her hair. "It’s heartbreaking. And she’s a fool. If she can't see what you are... she doesn't deserve you."
I held her tight, wrapping my arms around her as if I could physically shield her from the memory.
"You don't skate for her," I told her firmly. "You skate for you. Because it feels like flying. Remember?"
"I remember," she sniffled.
"And you don't need to be perfect for me," I added. "I like the mess. I like the girl who steals my jacket and yells at me for chopping wood wrong. That’s the girl I love."
She looked up at me. "You really love me?"
"More than hockey," I said. "More than breathing."
She smiled then. A wobbly, watery smile that lit up the dark cab.
"I love you too, Wolf."
We kissed. Slow. Healing.
It wasn't about sex this time. It was about anchoring. It was two broken people finding the pieces of themselves in each other.
"What if..." she started, pulling back slightly. "What if we just kept driving?"
"To where?"
"Anywhere," she shrugged. "Canada. We could disappear. You could be a lumberjack. I could teach skating to little kids who just want to have fun. No scouts. No Deans. No Pack."
I looked at her. The fantasy bloomed in my mind. A cabin. Snow. Her, round with my pup, happy and safe.
It was a beautiful dream.
"I would chop wood for you every day," I smiled. "And I’d do it wrong just to hear you yell at me."
She laughed. "We’d get a dog. A real dog. Not a wolf."
"Agreed. A golden retriever. Dumb and happy."
"It sounds perfect," she whispered.
"It does," I agreed.
But as I looked out at the frozen lake, the reality settled back in.
We couldn't run. Rurik was still out there. Her father was still out there. My duty was still waiting in Ironwood.
If we ran, they would hunt us. And I would spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"We can't," I said softly. "Not yet."
"I know," she sighed, resting her head on my shoulder. "But it’s nice to imagine."
"One day," I promised. "One day, we’ll build that cabin. And nobody will ever find us."
She closed her eyes.
"I’m holding you to that, Sterling."
"I know."
We sat there for another hour, watching the stars wheel overhead, holding onto the fragile peace we had built.
Eventually, the cold seeped in. I started the truck.
"Let’s go home," I said.
"Home," she repeated.
We drove back to Ironwood in silence, hand in hand.
But the feeling of dread in my gut hadn't left. If anything, it had grown. Because now I knew exactly what I had to lose. And the universe had a cruel way of punishing people who wanted too much happiness.
I squeezed her hand.
I won't let them take you, I vowed silently. I’ll burn the world first.