8. Found You #2
He came up the stairs quietly, without the usual bounce in his step. When he reached the top, he didn't sit down immediately, just stood there giving me space, letting me set the terms. His hands were at his sides, palms out, like he was showing me he meant no harm.
"Can I sit?"
I nodded toward the step beside me.
He sat. Close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him, far enough that he wasn't crowding me. The consideration of it made something in my chest ache.
For a long moment, neither of us said anything. He didn't push. Didn't fill the silence with chatter or jokes. Just sat with me, watching the morning light move across the yard, waiting.
His presence felt different than it usually did. The fun-loving charm was gone entirely, replaced by something steadier. Older. He felt like a wall between me and everything that might hurt me, solid, unmoving and impossible to get through.
"There's someone," I said slowly. "From before. He doesn't... he doesn't take no for an answer."
Jasper went very still. The kind of stillness I'd seen in Callum, that coiled readiness that could explode into violence without warning.
"He?"
"My ex. He's been... It's complicated."
"Is he the reason you came here?"
"He's the reason I ran." The words felt heavy, shameful. "I've been running for months. I thought I was safe here, but he found my number again. Last night."
Something changed in Jasper's face. Not just his expression, but something… something else. For a split second, his eyes seemed to flash gold, bright and inhuman, and then they were amber again and I was probably imagining things.
"What did he say?" His voice was quiet. Too quiet. The voice of someone keeping something leashed.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes."
I pulled out my phone, scrolled to the blocked messages, showed him. I'd deleted the text but the notification was still there in my settings, a ghost of the words: Did you think you could hide from me?
Jasper read it. His jaw tightened. A sound came from his chest, low and rumbling, almost like a growl.
"How many times has he contacted you since you've been here?"
"Twice. Different numbers each time. I block them, but—"
"But he gets new ones." Jasper nodded as if this confirmed something he already suspected. "Does he know where you are?"
"I don't think so. I've been careful."
"That's not what I asked."
"No," I said. "I don't know."
Jasper nodded slowly. His hands had curled into fists at his sides. The knuckles were white. His forearms were corded with tension, muscles standing out in ways that seemed more pronounced than normal.
"What's his name?"
"Why?"
"Because I want to know who we're dealing with." He must have seen something in my face, because he added, more gently: "I'm not going to do anything stupid. But we need to know. The pack—" He stopped, corrected himself. "The family needs to know who to watch for."
There it was again. Pack. He'd almost said it, caught himself, and substituted something else.
I filed it away with everything else I was collecting.
"Marcus," I said. "Marcus Webb."
Jasper repeated the name quietly, his lips barely moving, like he was filing it somewhere important. His eyes had gone distant for a moment, focused on something I couldn't see.
Then he looked at me, really looked, and the fierceness in his expression softened into something that made my throat tight.
"Serena. Can I tell you something?"
"Okay."
"You're not broken." He said it with absolute certainty, like he was stating a fact about gravity or the color of the sky.
"Whatever he did to you, whatever he made you believe about yourself, you're not broken.
You're not weak. You're not stupid for not seeing it sooner, and you're not a coward for running. "
I felt my eyes sting. "You don't know—"
"I know enough." He shifted, turning to face me more fully.
"I know you moved across the country by yourself.
I know you built a new life in a town where you didn't know anyone.
I know you've been dealing with this alone for god knows how long, and you're still here.
Still standing. Still making terrible jokes about my ego.
" A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "That's not weakness. That's survival."
A tear slid down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly, embarrassed.
"Hey." His voice was soft. "You don't have to hide that from me."
"I don't cry in front of people."
"Maybe you should. It's very humanizing." There was no mockery, only sincerity. "Serena. Look at me."
I looked.
"You're not alone anymore." He met my eyes, and in his gaze was something fierce, protective, and entirely sincere. His eyes blazed, jaw tightening. "Whatever this is, you don't have to face it by yourself."
"You barely know me."
"I know enough," he said again. "And I'd like to know more. But that's not why I'm saying this." He reached out, slowly, giving me time to pull away, and rested his hand over mine on the porch step.
His palm was warm. Warmer than it should have been, almost feverish. Callused, strong and impossibly gentle.
"I'm saying this because it's true. You have people here now. Me, my brothers, Mom. We look out for our own."
"I'm not—"
"You're ours." He said it simply, without hesitation. The word should have scared me. After Marcus, after everything, ours should have sent me running. But the way Jasper said it didn't feel like ownership. It felt like shelter. "Whether you like it or not. That's just how it works around here."
I didn't know what to say. The possessiveness was there, undeniable, but it was wrapped in something else. Protection. Care. A fierceness that was directed outward, at the thing that threatened me, not inward at me.
"I don't want to bring my problems to your door," I said finally.
"Too late." He squeezed my hand once, then let go, giving me back my space.
"Your problems are officially at our door.
And we have a lot of doors. Very sturdy ones.
" A hint of the old Jasper surfaced, the warmth beneath the steel.
"Also, between you and me? My brothers and I are very good at handling problems. It's kind of our specialty. "
"What does that mean?"
"It means you should let us help." He stood, brushing off his jeans. His whole body was still tense, that coiled energy still vibrating beneath his skin, but he was holding it back now. Containing it. "And it means I need to go have a conversation with Callum and Eli. They should know about this."
"Jasper—"
"I won't tell them anything you don't want me to. But they need to know there's a threat. They need to know to watch for strangers asking questions, for anyone who doesn't belong." His expression was serious. "This is what family does, Serena. We protect each other."
He left before I could argue, striding toward the main house with a purpose that made him look larger, more dangerous, less human than he ever had before.
I watched him go. Watched the way he moved, that fluid grace that I kept noticing in all of them, that coordination that looked more animal than human. Watched the way his shoulders seemed broader than usual, the way the sunlight caught his hair and turned it almost bronze.
You're ours.
I should have been scared. I should have been running.
Instead, I sat on my porch in the morning light, watching Jasper disappear into the main house, and I felt something I hadn't felt in a very long time.
Safe.
But safety, I was learning, had a price. And as I gathered my coffee cup to go inside, I noticed something that made that newfound peace fracture, just a little.
On the step below where I'd been sitting, scratched into the wood with something sharp, were two words:
FOUND YOU
The letters were fresh. The wood beneath them was raw and pale.
Someone had been here. When? While I slept? While I drank my coffee?
Someone had been close enough to reach me; to send me a message.
And I hadn't heard a thing.