Chapter 41 Blood and Bond
Sable's POV
For a long, breathless moment, I couldn’t move.
My brother stood only a few paces away, but it felt like the years between us stretched into a canyon I wasn’t sure how to cross. His scent filled the hall—familiar, grounding, so achingly home that my chest tightened until I could hardly breathe.
“Jaxon…” My voice cracked around his name, thin and disbelieving.
He blinked hard, like he thought he was hallucinating me. His jaw clenched, shoulders tensing beneath the fine gray fabric of his suit. Then, in one rough exhale, the Beta I remembered broke through the professional mask. His eyes softened. “Goddess, Sable.”
Before I could think, before logic could stop me, I moved.
Two strides and I was in his arms.
For five years I’d buried that part of me—sister, daughter, pack. I’d told myself leaving meant severing, that I could outrun the ache of what I’d lost. But the moment my arms wrapped around Jaxon’s broad shoulders, all that careful distance shattered.
He hugged me back with a force that made the air rush from my lungs. The same strength that used to catch me when I fell out of tree branches, the same hands that bandaged my scraped knees after sparring matches. For a heartbeat, I wasn’t the woman who’d walked away from her destiny. I was just a little sister again, clinging to the one person who’d always been my anchor.
Tears burned my eyes. I buried my face in the curve of his neck, inhaling pine and rain—the scent of home, the scent of everything I thought I’d left behind.
“You’re really here,” I whispered, barely able to form the words.
His chest rumbled with a broken laugh. “And so are you. Damn it, Sable, you just—disappeared.”
I pulled back, wiping my eyes with the heel of my hand. “I had to.”
“I know.” His voice was quiet but raw. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t break us.”
The words sliced through the fragile joy like a blade. I studied him, taking in the subtle lines that hadn’t been there before. The faint scar near his temple from a fight I’d missed. His suit was sharp, his stance confident, but the weight in his eyes was heavier now—Beta, leader, soldier.
“What are you doing here?” I asked finally, suspicion flickering under the grief. “You work here?”
Jaxon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. After you left, everything changed. The council was furious, Dad stepped down earlier than expected, and Kier…” He hesitated, looking past me for a second. “Kier needed someone he could trust. The pack needed someone to bridge both worlds. So, when he started building Ironclad, I came with him.”
Of course. My brother—ever loyal, ever the protector—would stand at Kier’s side.
“I’m VP of Operations now,” he said with a defensive lift of his chin. “This isn’t just Kier’s empire—it’s ours. I make sure our people have a stake in it. You think I’d let him build all this without me watching his back?”
I searched his face, my heart twisting. The boy who used to chase me through the forest had become a man who managed empires. “So you’re his right hand now?”
Jaxon’s eyes narrowed. “Someone has to keep him grounded.” Then, after a pause, his tone sharpened. “What about you? You ran, Sable. You left me. Left all of us. You talk about freedom like it’s sacred, but you never gave us the chance to choose with you.”
The words hit harder than I expected. “That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not,” he said, his voice breaking around the edges, “but it’s true.”
Silence stretched between us. The weight of five years filled every breath, thick and heavy. The hallway hummed with distant voices and footsteps, but none of it touched us.
“I missed you,” I said finally, my voice trembling.
He swallowed, his gaze flicking away before returning to me. “I missed you too. Every damn day.”
For a moment, that was enough—blood, bond, memory. The fragile thread of family that somehow refused to snap. But underneath, I felt the fracture. He belonged here now, tethered to Kier, to Ironclad, to the pack’s world of power and politics.
And me? I wasn’t sure I belonged anywhere.
A door opened down the hall. Two executives passed, talking about quarterly numbers, and the spell of reunion cracked a little. Jaxon exhaled through his nose, looking me over like he was memorizing every difference.
“You look different,” he said softly.
I gave a half-smile. “College and city life will do that.”
He huffed a small laugh. “You always said you’d rather take on the world than settle for it.”
“Still true,” I said, though my voice came out softer than I wanted.
He studied me for a long moment—his eyes flicking from my tailored blazer to the streak of silver near my temple that hadn’t been there before. “You look like Mom,” he murmured. “Same eyes. Same way of trying to hide how much you feel.”
The words made my throat tighten. “You always were the observant one.”
He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I had to be, after you left. Someone needed to keep an eye on everything falling apart.”
I flinched. “Jax—”
He cut me off gently. “Don’t. I’m not blaming you. I just… I didn’t realize how quiet home would feel without you in it.”
The confession hung between us, delicate and painful.
Before I could respond, his expression shifted. The easy nostalgia slipped away, replaced by something alert, cautious. The Beta mask slid back into place. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Does Kier know you’re here?”