CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
The dining room feels like a tomb as Jax's words hang in the air, each syllable a knife twisted in my chest. He leans back in his chair with casual elegance, as if he hasn't just described the most traumatic night of my life to an audience of unsuspecting family members.
"The Haven Pack," he continues, his storm-gray eyes locked on mine with predatory focus. "Such a promising young pack, too. They had just crowned their new Alpha heir that very day—a boy barely eighteen, full of hope and dreams for his people's future."
My breath catches in my throat. James. He's talking about James, describing my brother's coronation ceremony with the intimate knowledge of someone who was there. Who watched. Who participated.
"The attack came during the celebration," Jax says, his voice taking on a storyteller's cadence that makes my skin crawl. "The rogues struck when the pack was at their most vulnerable—gathered together, focused on joy rather than security. They never stood a chance."
King Alexander shakes his head sadly. "Tragic. An entire bloodline wiped out in one night."
"Indeed," Jax agrees, his gaze never leaving my face. "The young Alpha fought bravely, I'm told. Died trying to protect his little sister, who was barely more than a child herself. Thirteen years old, can you imagine?"
The room tilts around me as bile rises in my throat. He's describing the exact moment my world ended, painting it in vivid strokes that only someone who witnessed it firsthand could know. My hands begin to tremble beneath the table, and I grip my napkin so tightly my knuckles turn white.
"How terrible," Queen Grace murmurs, her voice heavy with maternal sympathy. "A thirteen-year-old child losing her entire family. I can't imagine surviving such trauma."
"Oh, but she didn't survive," Jax says, his lips curving into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "At least, not according to the official reports. No survivors, remember? The little girl died with the rest of her pack."
The words hit like physical blows. He's reminding me that officially, I don't exist. That the girl who lost everything that night is supposed to be dead and buried with her family. That my current identity is built on lies he helped create.
"Such a waste," Nora adds, her genuine sadness making the cruelty even more unbearable. "Children should never have to face such horrors."
Knox's hand finds mine beneath the table, his fingers intertwining with my trembling ones. "Are you alright?" he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "You look pale."
I can't respond. Can't do anything but sit there as Jax continues his psychological torture, describing my brother's death with the casual precision like he's the one who orchestrated it.
"The boy's death was particularly brutal," Jax says, his tone conversational as if discussing the weather. "Multiple wounds, from what I understand. The rogues wanted to make an example of him, to show what happens when young wolves dare to dream of leadership."
Tears blur my vision as the memory crashes over me—James's broken body in my arms, his blood soaking through my ceremonial dress, the way his eyes went vacant as life left him. The same wounds Jax is describing with such clinical detachment.
"The sister tried to save him," Jax continues relentlessly. "Held him as he died, according to witnesses. Can you imagine? A child watching her brother bleed out, knowing she was powerless to stop it?"
"Please," I whisper, the word escaping before I can stop it. "Please stop."
The table falls silent, all eyes turning to me with concern. Knox's grip on my hand tightens, his green eyes searching my face with growing alarm.
"Aubrey?" he asks gently. "What's wrong?"
I can't answer. Can't explain why this story is tearing me apart without revealing everything I've hidden from him. Jax watches my breakdown with satisfaction, his storm-gray eyes gleaming with cruel pleasure.
"I'm sorry," I manage, pushing back from the table on unsteady legs. "I need... I need some air."
I flee from the dining room before anyone can stop me, my feet carrying me through familiar corridors that now feel like enemy territory. Behind me, I hear Knox's concerned voice calling my name, but I don't stop. Can't stop. Not when Jax's words are echoing in my mind like a death knell.
The door to our chambers slams shut behind me with enough force to rattle the hinges.
I collapse onto the bed, my body wracked with sobs that feel like they're tearing me apart from the inside.
All this time, I thought I was the one playing games, manipulating the situation to my advantage.
But Jax has been ten steps ahead, orchestrating every move with the precision of a master chess player.
Heavy footsteps in the corridor announce Knox's approach. The door opens with deliberate slowness, and he enters with the careful movements of someone approaching a wounded animal.
"Aubrey," he says softly, his voice rough with concern. "Talk to me. What happened in there?"
I sit up, wiping tears from my cheeks with shaking hands. "I'm fine. Just... that story was disturbing."
Knox's expression hardens. "Don't lie to me. That wasn't just being disturbed by a tragic tale. You looked like you were reliving it."
The accusation hangs in the air between us, and I realize with sinking horror that my reaction has given away more than I intended. Knox isn't stupid—he's putting pieces together, seeing patterns I thought I'd hidden.
"Was that your pack?" he asks quietly, his green eyes boring into mine. "The Haven Pack he was talking about—was that your family?"
The question hits like a physical blow. I open my mouth to deny it, to deflect with another lie, but no words come. The truth sits heavy in my throat, begging to be released.
"Answer me," Knox demands, his voice rising with frustration. "Stop lying to me, Aubrey. I know you're hiding something."
"I can't," I whisper, the words torn from my chest. "I can't tell you."
Knox's hands clench into fists at his sides. "Can't or won't? Because there's a difference, and I'm tired of not knowing which one it is."
"Does it matter?" I ask, echoing his own words from our early days together. "The answer is still the same."
"Yes, it matters!" Knox explodes, his composure finally cracking. "I'm your mate, Aubrey. I'm supposed to be the one person you can trust with anything. But instead, you keep shutting me out, keeping secrets, acting like I'm the enemy instead of the man who would die for you."
The pain in his voice cuts deeper than any blade. Here he is, offering me everything I've ever wanted—trust, a future together—and I can't accept it. Not when the truth would destroy him.
"I'm not your enemy," I say weakly, but even to my own ears, it sounds hollow.
"Then prove it," Knox challenges, stepping closer until I can see the hurt burning in his green eyes. "Tell me what's really going on. Tell me why you disappeared to that lake, why you react to my brother like he's some kind of threat, why hearing about a pack massacre makes you fall apart."
I shake my head, tears streaming down my face. "I can't. Please don't ask me to."
Knox stares at me for a long moment, and I watch something die in his expression. The warmth, the hope, the love—it all fades, replaced by cold disappointment.
"Fine," he says finally, his voice flat and emotionless. "Keep your secrets. But don't expect me to keep pretending everything's normal between us when you clearly don't trust me enough to tell me the truth."
He turns and walks toward the door, his movements stiff with barely contained anger. At the threshold, he pauses without looking back.
"I'll be sleeping in my study tonight," he says quietly. "And every night until you decide I'm worth your honesty."
The door closes behind him with a soft click that sounds like the end of everything I've been trying to build. I collapse back onto the bed, my body wracked with sobs that feel like they're tearing me apart from the inside.