Chapter 17 Following the Guilty
Wynter's POV
The silver collar at Jax's throat pulsed brighter, casting harsh shadows across his face as his wolf slammed against the suppression with enough force to make him stagger.
His eyes—those warm grey eyes that had always looked at me like I hung the moon—flickered between grey and that terrifying amber-red I'd only seen once before, when he'd nearly killed three Rogues who'd tried to hurt me.
"Jax—" I reached for him, but he jerked back like I'd burned him.
"Don't." His voice came out strangled, barely human. The collar flared again, sending visible shocks through his body, but he didn't seem to notice the pain. "Tell me I'm wrong, Sis. Tell me that bastard didn't Mark you without your consent."
My throat closed up. The bandage on my neck felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
"You can't, can you?" He laughed, the sound cracked and broken. "Show me. Show me the Mark."
My hands trembled as I reached up and slowly peeled back the edge of the bandage. Just enough for him to see the damage underneath—the angry red burns, the twisted remnants of what should have been a beautiful Mark, the clear evidence of chemical warfare waged on my most vulnerable place.
Jax went absolutely still. The kind of still that preceded violence. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut like a blade.
"He's supposed to be an Alpha Prime. Born to protect, to guard his Mate above all else." His eyes lifted to mine, and the betrayal there made my chest ache. "He forced a Bond on you and couldn't even keep you safe from this. What kind of Mate does that make him?"
"It's not his fault—" The words came automatically, and I hated myself for it the moment they left my mouth.
The damaged Mark pulsed as if in answer, a dull reminder that my body had already chosen even if my mind refused to.
Jax's bitter laugh cut through my spiraling thoughts. "Isn't it? He Marked you. Made you a target. And then left you vulnerable enough that someone could do this." He gestured at my neck, his hand shaking with barely contained rage. "He's a fucking failure."
The Bond flickered weakly in my chest at the insult, but I forced myself to meet Jax's eyes. "You're right. He should have never Marked me in the first place."
Something shifted in Jax's expression as he took a shaky breath, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he visibly fought for control. The collar's pulsing slowed incrementally.
"You're not going to complete it, are you?" His voice had gone soft now, resigned. "The Bond. You're going to leave it one-sided."
I couldn't answer, but my silence was confirmation enough.
"Because of your father." It wasn't a question. "Because you think Silvermoon killed him."
"I know they killed him," I said, my voice raw. "Jax, he was murdered on their territory—"
"Just think about it." He reached up slowly and gently pressed my hand to his cheek. The gesture was so tender that tears spilled down my face. "You're not trapped, Sis. You're not his property just because he Marked you. You still have a choice. And I swear to you, I will help you investigate your father's death. I'll help you find the truth, expose whoever's responsible. I'll stand by you no matter what. Always."
"I need to think," I whispered, pulling my hand away even though it hurt to do it. "Jax, I need time to process all of this."
"I know." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Take all the time you need."
"Come on," I said after a moment, my voice barely steady. "Let's head back. It's getting late."
We walked in silence, leaving the training grounds behind. The campus stretched out before us in the deepening twilight, most students already retreating to their dorms for the night. I could feel Jax beside me, his presence a constant weight—protective and possessive in equal measure.
Gradually, I noticed the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease. His breathing, which had been harsh and ragged when we first started walking, slowly evened out. The silver collar at his throat, which had been pulsing with urgent warnings, dimmed incrementally until it was barely more than a faint glow against his skin.
But his hands remained clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles white. Every few steps, I'd see his jaw tighten, see the muscle jump beneath his skin as he ground his teeth together. The rage hadn't left him—it had just gone underground, banked like coals waiting for the right moment to flare back to life.
We cut through the library courtyard, then past the administrative building. The path we were taking would lead us back toward the dormitories, but it was the long way around—quieter, more private.
I was so lost in my own thoughts that I almost didn't notice when Jax suddenly went still beside me.
"Wait," he breathed, his hand shooting out to grab my arm and pull me to a halt.
I followed his gaze and saw a figure moving through the shadows ahead of us—tall, broad-shouldered, moving with the kind of furtive urgency that screamed guilty conscience.
My breath caught in my throat.
Even from this distance, even in the poor light, I recognized that gait.
Marcus Reid.
The world tilted sideways for a moment, and I felt my knees go weak. My hand flew to my neck instinctively, pressing against the bandage as if I could protect the damaged Mark underneath. As if I could shield myself from the memory that slammed into me with the force of a physical blow.
Strong hands pinning my arms. The chemical bottle in Marcus's fist. His face twisted with cruel satisfaction as he poured—
"Sis?" Jax's voice sounded distant, muffled. "Sis, what's wrong?"
I couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. My vision narrowed to a tunnel, and all I could see was Marcus—Marcus walking free, Marcus moving through campus like he had every right to be here, like he hadn't held me down and burned away my Mark.
"He's—" I managed to choke out, my voice barely a whisper. "He's supposed to be—Chase said he'd handle it. He said—"
Why was Marcus here? Why wasn't he in custody?
"That bastard," Jax growled, and I felt his hand tighten on my arm. Not painfully, but grounding. Anchoring me. "Sterling let him out. Or his family did. Fuck—"
My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might burst through my chest. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to hide, to get as far away from Marcus Reid as possible. My damaged Mark throbbed in time with my pulse, a constant reminder of what he'd done.
But beneath the fear, beneath the panic that threatened to swallow me whole, something else stirred. Something cold and sharp and furious.
He was walking free. After everything he'd done to me, he was walking around campus like nothing had happened.
"What's he doing out here?" I heard myself ask, and I was surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "The dorms are in the opposite direction."
Jax's eyes had gone sharp, predatory. The collar at his throat pulsed brighter as his wolf surged forward, responding to my distress. "Nothing good," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. "So where the hell is he going?"
We watched as Marcus cut across the lawn, heading away from the main campus buildings toward the old faculty housing complex at the edge of the property. The complex had been abandoned years ago when the academy built newer accommodations closer to the main campus. Now it was just a collection of deteriorating buildings that everyone avoided.
My hands were shaking. I could feel the tremors running through my whole body, could feel the cold sweat breaking out on my skin. But I forced myself to breathe, forced myself to focus.
He hurt you, a voice whispered in my mind. He held you down and burned you and laughed while you screamed. And now he's walking free.
"We should go back," Jax said, but there was no conviction in his voice. His eyes were still locked on Marcus's retreating figure, tracking him like prey.
"No." The word came out sharper than I intended, and I saw Jax's eyes snap to mine. "No, I want to know. I want to know why he's out. Why he's here."
Jax stared at me for a long moment, searching my face. I knew what he saw—the fear I couldn't quite hide, the way my hand kept drifting to my neck, the tremor in my jaw. But he also saw the steel beneath it, the rage that was slowly burning away the panic.
"Okay," he said finally. "But we stay back. We don't engage. We just watch. And if it gets dangerous—"
"We leave," I finished. "I know."
But even as I said it, even as I forced my feet to move forward, to follow Marcus into the gathering darkness, I knew it was a lie.
Because I was done running. Done hiding. Done letting people hurt me and walk away unpunished.
If Chase wouldn't give me justice, I'd find it myself.
"Come on," Jax said, his hand finding mine and squeezing once—reassurance, support, a promise that he'd stand by me no matter what. "Let's see where he's going."