Chapter 38 I Am With You
Jackson POV
Harper looked up at me with exhausted eyes and whispered, “That’s the truth, Jackson. That’s who I really am. That’s what your father took from me.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
I swallowed against the tightness in my throat and pressed my lips to her forehead, breathing her in. She smelled like skin, antiseptic, and deep exhaustion.
“Thank you for surviving,” I said. The words came out rough.
She didn't answer. Her breathing had already settled into a slow, even rhythm and her injured arm rested between us in its sling. She looked impossibly small under the blankets, bruised and battered, so damn fragile it made something deep in my chest ache.
My wolf hovered just beneath my skin, restless and watchful. A low growl rumbled through my mind. Mine. Hurt. Protect.
I lay there in the dark, one hand slowly stroking her back, forcing myself to stay calm while a storm raged beneath the surface.
My father had done this to her. His pack. His choices. Everything she had survived, every scar and every broken piece, traced back to him. The weight pressed down until it was hard to breathe.
I waited a few more minutes, until I was certain she was deeply asleep. Only then did I carefully shift her arm off my chest and ease out of the bed. She stirred once, a small sound of protest, but settled again when I tucked the blanket higher around her shoulders.
I left the door ajar and stood in the hallway for several seconds, listening. Then I started pacing.
The moment I was alone it all crashed over me.
Thomas Black had done that. Not some faceless monster. My own father had destroyed a thirteen-year-old girl and her family. He had taken everything, then burned what was left.
I paced faster. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides. My wolf clawed at my chest, feeding me one violent image after another. He wanted to hunt. He wanted blood.
I had always known my father was cruel. I remembered the screaming fights between my parents.
The sound of breaking glass. My mother disappearing into her room for days with pills and alcohol.
The brief hope when she got pregnant with my sister, followed by two funerals in one week. My father had barely reacted.
I’d known that cruelty in my own body too. As a kid, I learned exactly how far I could push before his hand became a fist. I learned not to cry afterward because tears only made him angrier. By seventeen I had finally grown big enough that the next time he swung, I caught his wrist.
He never hit me again.
For years I told myself that was simply who he was.
An old-school Alpha. Hard. Ruthless. The kind of man who believed fear and respect were the same thing.
I watched him make examples of wolves who crossed him.
I watched my mother shrink a little more every year while he fucked whoever he wanted and expected the rest of us to pretend we didn’t notice.
I hated plenty of things about him. I’d spent years telling myself that when the pack became mine, I would do things differently. That I could take what he’d built without becoming the man who built it.
When it came to the pack, I had always told myself there was a reason for what he did. He was brutal, not evil. There were rules even Thomas Black wouldn’t break.
Harper had just shown me how badly I had lied to myself.
I stopped at the end of the hallway and dragged a hand down my face.
She came here to kill him.
I was certain now that she was behind Colt and Richard’s deaths too. Tonight I had helped her hide John’s body so she could stay free long enough to finish what she had started. I had become her accomplice. The part that should have horrified me... didn't.
My wolf rumbled in agreement, low and darkly pleased.
I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, forcing my breathing to slow. The storm inside me kept building, but I held it back.
For now.
A restless sound came from the bedroom. Harper stirred with a low, distressed noise, and I moved without thinking.
I climbed onto the bed on top of the blankets and gathered her carefully into my arms. She tensed for a second, then melted against me like her body already knew mine even in sleep. Her breathing evened out again almost immediately.
I stayed there with my chin resting on top of her head, holding her as the night stretched on.
Sleep came eventually, but it was ugly. Flames. Harper’s screams. My father’s cruel smile. Blood on my hands. I woke several times with my heart pounding and pulled her closer each time, needing the solid weight of her against me.
She needed something solid in the morning.
I would be that for her. No matter what it cost me.
I woke before dawn. Harper was still pressed against my chest. I had been half-awake for nearly an hour, unwilling to move and risk waking her.
She had curled into my side with her good hand fisted tight in my shirt, like she was afraid I might disappear.
Her injured arm rested carefully between us, and every now and then her breath hitched in her sleep.
I looked down at her in the pale light. The bruise on her temple had darkened to a deep purple, and a small angry cut ran along her jaw. Her lashes lay dark against too-pale skin. She looked younger like this, almost fragile, and something twisted hard in my chest.
My wolf stayed quiet. Banked. Present.
She woke slowly. Pain tightened her face before her eyes opened.
“Morning,” I said softly.
“Morning,” she murmured, voice rough with sleep.
I brushed my thumb along her cheekbone. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she lied.
I helped her sit up against the headboard, careful with the sling and her ribs. A small wince crossed her face, but she stayed silent. I held the glass of water for her while she drank. She watched me the whole time, quiet and thoughtful.
The bedroom door eased open under the push of a furry head. Artemis padded in, gave me one unimpressed look, and jumped onto the bed. My wolf rumbled at another male getting close to her, even a furry one.
“Really?” Harper said, dry amusement slipping through.
“Apparently,” I replied.
The cat pushed his head against her good hand until she scratched behind his ear. A loud purr started up almost immediately. After a minute he hopped down and curled up in the desk chair like he owned the place.
I let the quiet stretch between us before I asked the question I had carried through the night.
“Colt and Richard,” I said. “That was you?”
“Yes.”
I absorbed it. I had already known, or at least suspected the truth, but hearing her admit it so flatly still hit differently. My wolf shifted under my skin, acknowledging the truth of who she really was. Dangerous. Capable. Mine.
None of it changed a thing.
“Okay,” I said.
She searched my face for a long moment, like she was waiting for something. Disgust. Horror. Maybe both. I brushed my fingers against her knee under the blankets, needing her to feel that she wouldn’t find either. Still, something tight and uncertain flickered behind her eyes.
“Can you accept me?” she asked. “With what was done to me. With the things I have done since.”
There it was, the real fear sitting just beneath the steel. Not of Thomas. Of the chance that I might pull away.
I slid my hand around the back of her neck and drew her forehead to mine. Her eyes closed immediately.
“That doesn’t change anything between us,” I said. “You matter to me. The rest is noise.”
She stayed there, forehead pressed to mine, and some of the rigid tension bled from her shoulders. The room was quiet except for Artemis’s soft breathing and the distant sound of morning birds.
I pulled back enough to look at her.
“I’ve been thinking all night about what comes next.”
“Jackson—”
“Let me finish.”
She waited.
“I’m with you,” I said. “Whatever this looks like. Whatever you need to do. I’m with you.”
Her expression shifted. “He is still your father. You can’t risk everything for me.”
“You still don’t get it.” My voice roughened.
“You have no idea how much you mean to me. I need you safe. I can’t picture my life without you anymore.
If anything happened to you…” The words caught for a second.
“I wouldn’t function. I won’t stand by and let you face this alone.
I’ve spent my whole life making excuses for him.
I’m done. From this day forward, I don’t have a father. ”
My wolf rumbled deep in agreement.
For a second she just looked at me.
“You say that now,” she whispered. “But when this gets ugly—”
“It already is ugly.” I held her gaze. “And I’m still here.”
She swallowed hard. “You really choose me? Over your own blood?”
“Without question.”
Harper let out a slow breath. “I don’t want it quick for Thomas. I want him to feel everything he did to my family. I want him to understand before he dies.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m not going to judge you for that.”
She waited for an argument. When none came, she added, softer, “Most people would say that makes me monstrous.”
“I’m not most people. Tell me what you need. I’ll do it.”
Her composure slipped, just for a second.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted. “Need someone. Rely on someone. I haven’t let myself in a long time.”
I stayed quiet for a moment, letting the words settle. My hand found the side of her neck, thumb brushing slow along her jaw.
“You don’t have to know how,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not later.”
She searched my face again, like she still half-expected me to take it back. I didn’t look away.
“I love you,” I said. The words came out low and steady, the ones I had carried for weeks. “That’s not going to change either.”
Harper went completely still. For one heartbeat I wondered if it was too soon. Then her gaze softened in a way I had never seen.
“My cat made up her mind weeks ago,” she said. “I’ve been the slow one.”
She met my eyes. “I love you too.”
I pulled her carefully into my arms, mindful of the sling and her ribs. She made a small contented sound and nuzzled into the side of my neck. Exhaustion won again. Her breathing slowed and deepened.
I stayed awake, her weight warm and trusting against me. Morning light filled the room slow and golden across the walls.
She'd carried this alone for ten years. She wasn't carrying it alone anymore.
My father was a dead man.
He just didn’t know it yet.