Chapter 102
Ellie's POV
Everything hurt.
The cold was so deep it felt like burning, and my lungs ached from the water I'd inhaled. But Jackson's arms were around me, his warmth seeping into my frozen skin, and I'd never felt anything so good in my life.
"You're alive," he was saying, over and over like a prayer. "You're alive, you're safe, I've got you."
I tried to speak, but only managed a weak cough. More water came up, and Jackson shifted me so I could clear my lungs.
When I could finally breathe without choking, I looked up at him. His face was inches from mine, eyes still holding traces of gold, hair plastered to his head with lake water.
"You saved me," I whispered.
"I almost didn't." His voice cracked. "If I'd been five minutes later—"
"But you weren't." I lifted one shaking hand to his face. "You found me."
He caught my hand, pressing it against his cheek. His skin was as cold as mine, both of us shaking uncontrollably.
"We need to get warm," he said, already reaching for the pile of clothes. He pulled his shirt over my head first—the fabric ice-cold from lying on the frozen surface, making me gasp—then wrapped his jacket around my shoulders. He grabbed his jeans, pulling them on quickly, leaving his chest bare. Everything else—his coat, an extra layer—he piled onto me.
Even half-frozen and barely conscious, some distant part of my brain registered the lean muscles of his torso, the way his skin gleamed in the moonlight. Really, Ellie? Now? But I couldn't help it. The mate bond hummed with appreciation even as my teeth chattered.
"The car—I left it running. Can you walk?"
I tried. My legs buckled immediately.
Without hesitation, Jackson lifted me into his arms. "I've got you."
He carried me across the ice, moving quickly despite his own exhaustion and the cold that had to be affecting him as badly as it affected me. His car was hidden in the trees, exhaust rising in white clouds, blessed warmth pouring from the open door.
He settled me in the back seat, wrapping me in every blanket he could find from the trunk. "Stay here. Keep warm."
"Where are you—"
"Your phone," he said, already moving back toward the lake. "We might need it."
Through the car window, I watched him wade into the shallow water where the shattered remains of the ice house had surfaced, floating in broken chunks. He worked quickly, pulling at the debris until he found my torn clothes still tangled in the wreckage. His movements were efficient despite the tremor in his hands from the cold.
He returned moments later, water dripping from his jeans, and handed me the soggy remains of my phone. The screen was completely black, the casing cracked.
"It's dead," I said, my fingers fumbling with the back panel. Water poured out, but the SIM card looked intact. I popped it free.
Jackson was already reaching into the glove compartment, pulling out another phone. "Backup," he explained. "I always keep a spare."
I slid my SIM card into his phone with shaking hands as he climbed into the driver's seat, cranking the heat even higher.
"We need to get away from here," he said, putting the car in gear. "Whoever set that trap might come back to check it."
The thought sent a fresh wave of fear through me, but Jackson was already driving, his eyes constantly checking the rearview mirror.
After about five minutes, he pulled off onto a logging road, driving until we were deep enough in the forest to be hidden from the main road. Then he killed the engine and climbed into the back seat with me.
For a long moment, we just sat there, wrapped in blankets, sharing body heat, processing what had just happened.
"Jackson," I finally said, my voice still weak but steady. "What you did back there—"
"I know." His eyes met mine, still holding traces of gold. "I revealed what I am. What we both are."
"The mate bond," I whispered. "I felt it. Even with the wolfsbane suppressing Thalia, when I saw you—when I recognized you—she broke through."
His hand found mine under the blankets, our fingers intertwining. "I've felt it for months. Since the first time I saw you, actually. But I didn't know if you—"
"I felt it too." The words tumbled out, but not quite the truth he might expect. "I mean—I didn't feel the bond. You hid it too well. But Jackson, even thinking you were human, I was already... I'd already started wondering if maybe we could—" My voice broke. "If you and I could be something."
His thumb brushed across my knuckles, the touch sending warmth through me that had nothing to do with the car's heater. "We should talk about this. About what it means, what happens now. But first—"
He pulled back slightly, his expression turning serious. "First, we need fire. Real fire. And we need to figure out who did this to you."
"I think—" I swallowed hard. "I think it might have been Samantha. Or someone connected to her. But the trap was too specific, too well-designed for someone who didn't know about werewolves."
Jackson's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping. "We'll deal with that. But right now, we need to get you fully warm and make sure the wolfsbane is out of your system."
He climbed out of the car, and I watched through the window as he gathered fallen branches, using supplies from his trunk to build a small fire pit. His hands had to be in agony—torn and bloody from beating against the ice—but he moved with purpose, never faltering.
Within minutes, flames crackled to life. Jackson helped me out of the car, settling me close to the fire, wrapping me in dry blankets from his emergency kit.
As the warmth seeped into my bones, chasing away the last of the deadly cold, I felt Thalia stirring properly for the first time since I'd been drugged. She was weak but present, purring her contentment at being close to our mate.
Jackson sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched. For a while, neither of us spoke. We just stared into the flames, processing everything.
"How did you know where to find me?" I finally asked.
Jackson frowned, pulling out his phone. "You texted me."
He showed me the screen, and my blood ran cold.
Help. Echo Bay Lake. Trap. -E
"Jackson," I said slowly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't send that message. I was unconscious. My phone was in my pocket the whole time, and I couldn't—I never—"
His eyes widened, the gold flaring brighter as understanding—and alarm—crossed his face. "Then who—"
The question hung between us, unanswered and terrifying, as the fire crackled and the winter night pressed in around us.