Chapter 25 – JAX
JAX
“Are you both alright? What happened?” Dean asks.
Callum spots Tanner attempting to crawl away and moves to intercept him before he gets too far. He lets out a scream of pain when Callum steps on his destroyed shoulder and pins him to the ground.
“Alpha Williams happened.” I don’t release Camille, can’t make myself let go yet. She stays on my lap, clinging to me, as she explains to my brother what went wrong. “He had some kind of potion as well as the artifact. Knocked us all out, except Jax.”
She fingers the scarf, limp and slightly ripped now, but still tied around my neck.
Without a word, Dean moves across the beach and crouches beside Williams’s still form, checking for a pulse at his ruined throat. Blood immediately coats his fingers.
“Faint, I doubt he’ll survive,” he confirms, not sounding too upset about it as he wipes his hand on Williams’s expensive suit jacket before he stands again, waving over the next group of wolves to arrive on the scene.
They roll the alpha’s body onto a stretcher and get to work trying to save his life.
I frown, my wolf displeased that they’re not just letting him bleed to death like he deserves.
“Run to my cabin and get some clothes for these two,” Dean orders someone else, who takes off at a sprint to Dean’s isolated cabin. It’s his haven away from the madness of the packhouse and the memories of how our father used to punish us there.
Callum grabs Tanner by the collar, hauling him partially upright, and snarls, baring his teeth at the cowering wolf. “You’d better tell me everything. Or I’ll let Jax come and interrogate you personally.”
Tanner nods, eyes fixed on me, knowing full well that if I got him alone in a cell, after what he did to my mate, he’d never make it out alive.
Callum turns back to Dean. “We need to send someone for Ryan. He could already be destroying evidence…”
Dean nods, expression grim as a wolf runs back into the clearing, with clothes for us and a large blanket from Dean’s porch in his arms. He spreads it over the alpha, giving him more dignity and respect than he deserves as he’s lifted.
DEAN: I’m doing it for Zane, not him.
Zane crashes through the trees next, taking in the carnage with grim efficiency, his stoic enforcer expression faltering when the scent of his father’s blood reaches his nose, and he sees Tanner still struggling pathetically in Callum’s grip.
Lynn arrives right behind him, skidding to a halt when the scene comes into view.
“He’s alive,” Raven tells him, face ashen. “But only just.”
“Oh God.” Lynn’s focus immediately switches to Zane, who does his best to remain calm and professional. “Zane, I’m so sorry,” she whispers, but Zane’s already pulling out his phone, thumb moving efficiently across the screen.
“I’m calling in more help. Neither Camille nor I will be able to complete the investigation given the circumstances.”
Lynn’s face crumples when he ignores her.
“Permission to notify his Luna?” Zane asks as if this is just any ordinary shifter, and not his father and mother that he’s speaking about.
Nobody knows what to say, so Dean simply nods.
With a pained expression, Zane turns his back and strides into the trees to mind-link in privacy.
Lynn doesn’t wait for orders. She splashes straight through the shallows to the now-empty vial and scoops it out of the water, bringing it back to Dean.
Then she crosses to Callum, ignoring Tanner completely, and reaches for his face, wiping away a trickle of blood with her sleeve so that she can see the wound on his head properly.
There’s a nasty gash above his eye, and a dark bruise starting to appear on his temple.
“You need to sit down and get treated. Let someone else take him.”
With a vicious glare at the man in his hands, Callum shakes his head stubbornly, the movement making him wince in pain. “I’m fine,” Callum protests, but then nearly drops his prisoner. His knees buckle.
Lynn gives him an exasperated look. “Sure, you are.”
She shoulders part of Tanner’s weight, and with one hand staying on Callum’s arm to steady him, she guides them both to a waiting cart. When two other wolves step forward to take Tanner into custody, Callum finally relaxes his grip, squinting as he straightens.
“Possible concussion by the looks of it. Sit before you fall.”
Callum lowers his tall frame onto a large, flat rock, and Lynn immediately checks his pupils with a penlight from her bag.
Zane reappears silently, watching them for a moment, jaw tight.
Then he’s moving, checking Williams once with clinical detachment as he’s brought away to the clinic, before turning back to catalogue the scene.
The pattern of blood spray, the drag marks on the ground, the vial that Dean hands over to him.
“Someone will be here tonight, but we need to examine the scene now while it’s fresh.” He rubs a hand over his face, the only outward sign that this is bothering him at all. “Do you want one of yours to do it or…”
Dean is calm, watching Zane for any signs of aggression toward me. It wouldn’t be surprising if he were upset and looking for payback. It’s more unnerving that he hasn’t reacted at all.
“Whatever you’d prefer,” Dean says. “I trust you to do your job if you’re up for it.”
The gentle reminder of his position seems to galvanise Zane, who takes out a pocket recorder and presses start.
“Throat’s torn out. Carotid severed. Patient currently en route to pack clinic in critical condition.” He looks up at me. “Your wolf?”
There’s no point in denying it. His blood is still under my fingernails.
“He threatened my mate.” I attempt to stay calm, knowing that Zane is just doing his job, but my wolf is still furious this happened. I bare my teeth, daring Zane to challenge me for protecting my mate. “Used dark magic. Tried to tamper with the competition.”
But Zane just nods, already moving on, the perfect enforcer, even when it’s his father’s lying half dead.
“And him?” He tips his head toward Tanner, who’s complaining loudly about every bump and pothole the cart goes over as they drive him away to be treated.
“Edward’s accomplice.” I refuse to call him alpha, not after what he’s done. “Tanner tossed her in the water, unconscious. He was helping to fix the Games so Ryan would win.”
Zane hesitates.
“Ryan?” His brother’s name comes out strained. Real emotion crackles through his stoic mask.
“He didn’t know.” Camille’s voice is kind. She pushes herself up slightly in my lap. “Your father did this without telling him. I have it all recorded.”
She fumbles for the recording again, hands shaking from cold and exhaustion. I help her pull it from her inner jacket pocket and watch as she holds it out to Zane for him to take.
“He didn’t know?” Zane’s whole body sags in relief.
Shoulders dropping, head bowing. “Thank the Moon,” he breathes, and runs both hands through his dark hair, leaving it dishevelled.
Then his expression shifts to something softer, the first glimmer of worry breaking his professional mask.
“I need to find him. Before someone else tells him. Before...”
Before his world comes crashing down.
“Go,” Dean says quietly. “We’ll handle this.”
Zane nods, but pauses to look at us, at Camille specifically, and although she’s weak, she meets his gaze steadily.
“Thank you.” Then his gaze shifts to where Lynn still tends to Callum, her hands gentle, as she cleans the cut on his temple. Something passes between them, heavy with meaning. “And… I’m sorry.”
Lynn looks up, and they lock eyes from across the rocky beach.
The words hang between them. Zane’s jaw works, wanting to say more, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. But instead, he turns and jogs back through the trees, footsteps fading into the distance, to break the bad news to his brother.
More wolves arrive, streaming onto the beach. Jamie appears with an armload of blankets, her usual cheerful demeanour subdued as she hands them out, wrapping Camille up in one and checking her over. Others are drawn by the commotion, whispers already starting as they take in the scene.
Someone approaches me with caution, a young medic, barely out of training by the look of him. He takes one step too close.
I snarl, wolf bleeding through. The sound rips from my throat, primal and threatening.
He stumbles backward, nearly dropping the blanket.
“Jax.” Dean’s voice carries alpha authority. “Let the medics check you. Both of you.”
She’s mine to protect, mine to care for.
“No one else touches her.”
The medic holds his hands up and retreats while Dean attempts to reason with me.
“She nearly drowned. She needs…”
“I know what she needs, but I said no. I’m the healer. I will care for my mate.” The words come out more growl than speech.
Several wolves step back at the aggression in my tone, but Camille’s hand find mine, squeezing gently. “Jax. I’m okay.”
I shake my head, struggling to believe that’s really true and definitely not ready to hand her over to someone else.
“Everyone back off,” Camille says, voice still weak but carrying that enforcer edge. “Give us a minute.”
They retreat, though I can feel Dean’s disapproval radiating from where he stands ten feet away. His arms cross over his chest, jaw tight.
But I don’t care.
“Hey.” She turns so we’re face to face now, her hands resting on my shoulders. “Look at me.”
I meet her eyes reluctantly, afraid to take my eyes off the wolves surrounding us, waiting for them to rush us and take her away.
This close, I can see the exhaustion weighing down her features and how much the weak smile she gives me is sapping her energy.
I’m not making her life any easier right now.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says softly. Her thumb strokes along my collarbone; the touch grounding. “But I do need to get warm, and to rest. And so do you.”
Logic tries to penetrate the possessive haze. She’s right. She needs heat, more than I can provide here on a bloodied beach with the wind picking up.
“I’ll take you.” Not a question. “No one else.”
She nods, understanding. “Okay.”
I lift her easily in one smooth motion.
Her arms wrap around my neck automatically, legs around my waist. She tucks her face into my throat, and I feel her exhale against my skin.
The crowd parts, giving us a wide berth. Some watch with concern, others with knowing looks. They recognize what they’re seeing. A mate bond in its rawest form.
Dean falls into step beside us, careful to stay out of claw’s reach. “Not the basement, Jax. The clinic.”
A growl that turns into a grunt of acquiescence when Camille nods. I glance down at her, making sure she’s really okay with that.
“Fine. I know where it is. There’s no need for an escort.” My tone brooks no argument.
He sighs but doesn’t push, hanging back to deal with the mess I’ve left behind.
“Camille, talk to him. You have to be on your best behaviour now, Jax. The council is coming.” He sweeps his arm wide at the scene behind us. They’ll come to investigate, to pour over every tiny detail, including me. “You need to get it together.”