Chapter Eighteen
Jasmine
The afternoon sun had shifted position by the time I uncurled enough to notice it, the light slanting through my window at a different angle than it had when I'd first locked myself in here.
The blankets I'd pulled around myself were twisted and damp with sweat despite the room's comfortable temperature, evidence of the panic that had wrung me out like a dishrag.
I'd stopped crying maybe an hour ago. Maybe longer. Time had lost meaning somewhere between the shaking and the eventual stillness that came after my body had exhausted itself. Now I just lay there, wrapped in blankets like a cocoon, and tried to make sense of what had happened on that sidewalk.
The rational part of my brain, the part that had kept me alive on the streets through calculation and observation, kept trying to push through the fear.
Kade had protected me. That's what he'd done.
He'd stepped between me and a woman who wouldn't let go, who'd grabbed my wrist and wouldn't take no for an answer.
He'd made her leave. That was protection, not violence.
But the other part of my brain, the part that remembered Bane's hands, the pack house, and the blood, that part couldn't separate the two.
It saw Kade's stillness, heard his soft voice making threats, watched the way he'd positioned his body, and translated it all into danger. Violence waiting to happen.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, feeling the grit of dried tears.
Kade wasn't Bane. I knew that. Somewhere underneath the fear, I knew it.
Kade had never hit me, never raised his voice at me, done nothing but try to make me comfortable and safe.
But knowing something and believing it were different things, and my body didn't care about logic when it was remembering pain.
A soft knock sounded at my door.
I froze, my hands dropping from my face, every muscle tensing again. The knock came again, gentle, barely loud enough to hear. Not demanding. Not aggressive. Just... there.
“Jasmine?” Lucian's voice, muffled through the wood. “I brought you some lunch. You haven't eaten since breakfast.”
My stomach chose that moment to remind me it existed, cramping with hunger. I looked toward the door, saw the deadbolt still engaged where I'd left it, and felt a wave of something that might have been shame. I'd locked myself in here like a child, had run from someone trying to help me.
But I'd needed to. In that moment, running had been the only option my body would accept.
I pushed myself up from the floor, my legs unsteady beneath me, and walked to the door. My hand hovered over the deadbolt for a moment, some part of me still cautious, still afraid. Then I slid it back with a soft click and pulled the door open.
Lucian stood in the hallway holding a wooden tray. He watched me with a face full of concern. Or worry. He didn't comment on my tear-stained cheeks or the way my hair had come loose from its tie, hanging in tangles around my shoulders.
“Hi,” he said softly. “I made you a sandwich. And coffee, though it might be getting cold by now.”
The smell of food reached me, making my stomach cramp again. I looked down at the tray and saw two sandwiches cut diagonally, a mug of coffee with steam still rising from it, and an apple sliced into neat wedges.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice rough from crying. I stepped back, pulling the door wider. “You can... You can come in. If you want.”
Lucian's expression softened, relief flickering across his features. He stepped through the doorway carefully, moving slowly as if he were worried about startling me. I half-closed the door behind him.
He set the tray on my bedside table, then moved to sit on the edge of my bed.
Far from where I'd been sitting, but on the opposite side, leaving a clear path to the exit if I needed it.
His hands rested on his knees, fingers laced together, and he watched me with the same patient expression I'd seen before.
I walked to the bed and climbed back onto it, pulling my legs up and wrapping the blanket around my shoulders again. The sandwich was turkey and cheese on wheat bread, simple but well-made, and I picked it up with shaking hands and took a small bite.
Lucian waited until I'd eaten half of it before he spoke. “Kade's worried about you.”
I swallowed, the bread suddenly thick in my throat. I reached for the coffee, took a sip, and let the warmth spread through my chest before I tried to respond. “I know.”
“He didn't mean to scare you.” Lucian's voice was gentle, measured, like he was choosing each word with care. “He just... when he saw that woman grab you, when he realized you were in distress, his protective instincts took over.”
I nodded, staring down at the half-eaten sandwich in my hands. “I know that too.”
“Do you?” Lucian leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “Because the way you ran from him, Jasmine, it looked like you thought he was going to hurt you.”
The words settled over me like a weight. I set the sandwich down on the tray, my appetite suddenly gone despite my hunger. My fingers found the edge of the blanket and twisted in the fabric, needing something to do.
“I didn't think he would hurt me,” I said finally, forcing myself to meet Lucian's eyes. “Not really. Not with my brain. But my body...” I trailed off, not knowing how to explain the disconnect between knowing and feeling.
“Your body remembered something else,” Lucian finished for me, his voice soft with understanding.
I nodded, relieved he'd understood without me having to spell it out. “The way he stood. The way his voice went soft but dangerous. The stillness before he moved.” I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “It was like watching... someone else. Someone from before.”
Lucian was silent for a moment, his gaze tracking over my face, reading something written there. Then he shifted his position slightly, settling more comfortably but still maintaining that careful distance.
“Kade's protective nature can seem intense,” he said. “Especially when someone he cares about is threatened. But I need you to understand something, Jasmine. He would never, ever hurt you. None of us would.”
The conviction in his voice made something in my chest tighten. I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him so badly it hurt.
“I've known Kade since we were kids,” Lucian continued, his hands still resting calmly on his knees, never moving to reach for me.
“I've seen him in every kind of situation you can imagine.
Angry, frustrated, dealing with people who've wronged him or the pack.
And not once, not in all those years, have I seen him raise a hand to someone who didn't deserve it. Especially not to an Omega. Especially not to you.”
My eyes burned with fresh tears, but I blinked them back. I'd cried enough today. “Why, especially not me?”
Lucian smiled, and it reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. “Because you're important to him. To all of us. More than you probably realize right now.”
I looked away, my gaze finding the window where afternoon light painted golden rectangles on the hardwood floor. My body had finally begun to relax, the tension draining from my shoulders in increments so small I barely noticed until suddenly my muscles weren't screaming anymore.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered, still not looking at him. “For running. For thinking—”
“Don't apologize.” Lucian's voice was firm but not harsh.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Your reactions are valid, Jasmine.
Whatever happened to you before, whatever made you afraid of that kind of behavior, it's real, and it matters. We just need to help you understand that what happened with Kade was different.”
I finally turned back to face him, and he was watching me with such patience, such genuine concern, that it made my throat tight. “It triggered memories,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Of my old pack. Of how they...” I couldn't finish the sentence.
Lucian's jaw tightened, but his eyes stayed soft. “I understand.”
The surrounding room had grown dimmer as the sun continued its path across the sky.
My bedroom suddenly felt smaller, more intimate, with just the two of us sitting here in the fading light.
The blanket around my shoulders was warm, Lucian's presence was steady and unthreatening, and for the first time since I'd run from that sidewalk, I felt like maybe I could breathe again.
I picked up the sandwich, took another bite, and let myself sit, understanding that Kade's protection and Bane's violence weren't the same thing, even if they'd looked similar in that moment.
It would take time to fully believe it, to retrain my body's responses, but at least now I could see the difference with my mind.
That had to count for something.
A soft knock at the door made both Lucian and me look up from where we'd been sitting in comfortable silence. Kade appeared in the doorway. His expression was careful, controlled, but I could see the worry etched in the lines around his eyes, the tension in his shoulders that he was trying to hide.
He didn't move toward the bed. Instead, he glanced around the room and walked to the chair positioned near my desk, pulling it away from the wall and sitting down.
The distance he'd put between us was deliberate, obvious, and something in my chest eased at the recognition that he was giving me space.
“Hi,” he said softly, his hazel-brown eyes finding mine across the room. “Can I stay?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice yet. The sandwich sat half-eaten on the tray beside me, and I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders.