Chapter 30

Chapter 30
Jax's POV




# Chapter 30

Candlelight flickered in the dim room as Celeste and I sat side by side on the dusty floor, paging through the last few of my father Ron's old ship logs.

"This is the last one," Celeste said quietly, passing me a journal whose cover had worn thin with age.

I took it carefully and opened it. The pages had yellowed, edges frayed, but the handwriting was still legible. I skimmed through the entries—still chasing that mysterious thing, still spiraling deeper into obsession.

Then I turned to the final page.

A photograph slipped from between the pages and drifted to the floor.

I bent down to pick it up and studied it in the candlelight. It was a faded group photo of three young men standing shoulder to shoulder on a dock, the silhouette of a ship behind them. The man on the right was lean and wore an easy grin—that was Celeste's father Ron. I'd seen him in other photos at her house.

The man on the left had a short beard and sharp eyes—that had to be my father Gideon. My memories of him were hazy, but I recognized the outline of his face.

The man in the middle, dressed impeccably with a refined air, made my heart stop.

"This guy..." I stared at the photo, my voice shaking. "The more I look at him..."

"Who?" Celeste leaned closer.

"He looks like the Guild Master." I swallowed hard. "He looks like Quillon."

Celeste gasped and snatched the photo from my hand. "That's impossible... my guardian, he... how could he..."

Her voice cut off abruptly.

Because at that moment, a faint sound came from the corner of the room.

I jerked my head up and instinctively pulled Celeste behind me. In the wavering candlelight, a black figure emerged from the shadows—a masked man, black cloth covering most of his face, only his eyes visible.

"Put down the journal," the masked man said in a low, raspy voice, as if deliberately disguising it.

I clutched the journal tighter. "Who the hell are you?!"

The masked man didn't answer. He just walked straight toward me. His movements were fast—before I could react, he'd closed the distance and snatched the journal from my hands.

"Give it back!" I roared and lunged at him.

The masked man stepped back, easily dodging my attack. But as he turned, the candlelight caught his eyes.

I froze.

Those eyes—deep brown, with fine creases at the corners, a small mole beneath the left one. I knew those eyes too well.

When I was little, on the rare occasions my father came home, I would stare into those eyes, trying to read some sign of love for me in them.

"Dad..." The word stuck in my throat. I could barely get it out.

The masked man's body went rigid.

"You're my dad, aren't you?" My voice started to tremble. "Gideon... you're alive?"

Silence.

Only the crackling of the candle flame.

I felt something breaking apart inside my chest. "Say something! Why won't you say anything?!"

The masked man still didn't speak. He turned to leave.

"Stop!" I rushed forward to block his path. "You can't just walk away! Do you know what Grandma and I have been through all these years? We kept waiting for you to come back! Grandma went to the docks every single day, hoping to see your ship! And you... you've been hiding from us this whole fucking time?!"

My eyes burned. My vision blurred.

"Why didn't you come home?" My voice cracked. "Was it because of the gambling debts? Because you owed so much money you couldn't show your face anymore? Do you know Grandma sold everything we had to pay off those debts? Do you know I had to steal and rob just to survive?!"

The masked man's hands trembled slightly.

"If you've been in Freeport this whole time, why didn't you come see us?" Tears slid down my face. "Even if... even if you just looked at us from a distance..."

I reached for his mask. "I need to see your face! I need to know if you're really—"

The masked man suddenly moved, shoving me back with one palm.

The force was stronger than I expected. I stumbled backward several steps and slammed into the wall. Before I could steady myself, the masked man charged at me.

I gritted my teeth and met him head-on.

Our fists collided in midair. I used every ounce of strength trying to tear off his mask while he fought desperately to stop me. We grappled in the cramped room, knocking over tables and chairs, kicking the candelabra across the floor.

"Why?!" I swung at him, shouting. "Why did you become this?! You weren't like this before! You used to say you'd take me to sea, that you'd teach me to be a real man! Were all those words lies?!"

The masked man's attacks grew fiercer.

His skills were far better than I'd imagined. Every punch was precise and powerful, every dodge perfectly timed. This wasn't the gambling-addicted, perpetually drunk waste of a father I remembered.

I started losing ground.

A heavy punch landed on my ribs. I grunted, nearly dropping to my knees. The masked man seized my wrist, preparing to throw me.

At that moment, the jade earring in my ear suddenly burst with blinding green light.

An indescribable power flooded into my body.

I felt myself become lighter, faster, as if the whole world had slowed down. I could see the masked man's next move, see the weaknesses in his strength.

I wrenched free of his grip, spun around, and drove my elbow hard into his chest.

The masked man staggered back, surprise flashing in his eyes.

I didn't stop. The green light made me faster than I could believe. My fists fell like a rainstorm, each strike quicker than the last. The masked man began to struggle, gaps appearing in his defense.

Then he made a decision.

A low growl rumbled from his throat. His body began to twist and contort, bones cracking, muscles swelling. His black clothes tore apart as brown fur erupted from beneath his skin.

Seconds later, a massive brown wolf stood in the room.

I stared, stunned.

That coat of brown fur, the position of that scar, those eyes that remained familiar even in wolf form...

Memories crashed over me like a wave.

The winter I turned five, my father had stayed home for a few days. He'd shifted into his wolf form and let me ride on his warm back, running through the snow. I'd laughed so hard, clutching his neck tight, feeling like I owned the whole world.

"Dad..." I whispered.

The massive brown wolf snarled and lunged at me.

Rage, grief, resentment—every emotion erupted in that instant. I felt something inside me tearing, roaring, desperate to be released.

My body began to change.

The agony of bones reshaping nearly knocked me unconscious, but I clenched my teeth and held on. Brown fur sprouted from my skin, limbs transforming, spine curving. I heard myself release an inhuman howl.

Then I, too, became a wolf.

A young brown wolf with soft fur and no battle scars on my body.

My father and I faced each other. Two brown wolves, one old and one young, in this crumbling room.

I attacked first.

But I quickly realized I was completely outmatched. I had no combat experience—every lunge was easily deflected, every dodge too slow. My father's wolf form was powerful and seasoned. Every one of his attacks hit my weak points with precision.

I was utterly overpowered.

My father's massive claw swung toward my head. If that blow landed, it would knock me out cold. I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain.

But the pain never came.

A blinding green light suddenly filled the entire room.

I opened my eyes to see Celeste standing there, the jade ring on her hand glowing brilliantly. She thrust both hands forward, and between her palms a sharp wind blade formed, screaming toward my father.

My father twisted his body in midair, pulling back his descending strike. The wind blade grazed his fur and carved a deep gash into the wall.

He landed, stared at Celeste for a few seconds.

Then he turned, charged at the window, crashed through the glass, and disappeared into the night.

I collapsed weakly to the floor, my body automatically shifting back to human form. I was covered in injuries, every muscle trembling. But worse than the physical pain was the emptiness inside.

He was gone.

Once again, he'd left me behind.

"Jax..." Celeste knelt beside me, her voice full of concern.

I looked at her, wanting to say something, but found I couldn't speak at all. I just lay there quietly, staring at the ceiling, letting the tears fall.