Chapter 143
Ellie's POV
I spotted Jackson limping slightly as he approached our usual corner table on the library's third floor—tucked away behind the linguistics section where we could talk without being overheard. I'd brought his favorite sandwiches from the deli, along with fruit and those chocolate chip cookies he pretended not to be addicted to.
"You're limping," I said quietly as he lowered himself into the chair with visible care.
"Miles doesn't believe in taking it easy."
Heat flashed through me—not arousal, but anger. Thalia surged forward, protective and furious that someone had hurt our mate. My eyes must have shifted amber because Jackson's expression softened immediately.
"He hurt you?"
"He's training me. There's a difference." He reached across the table to take my hand, his touch grounding me. "I'm okay, El. Promise. Just sore."
Just sore. As if I can't see the way you're holding your left side, the careful way you moved your shoulder.
But I let it drop. He needed this training, and Miles knew what he was doing. Probably.
"Tell me about the training plan," I said instead.
He walked me through it—brutal morning sessions starting at four AM, combat drills, transformation practice, and eventually live sparring with experienced wolves. I listened carefully, my mind automatically cataloging information, assessing risks, calculating timelines.
"And there's something else we need to discuss. About... protecting you." He squeezed my hand, and something in his expression shifted.
Every muscle in my body tensed. Oh no. Here it comes.
"Jackson—"
"Just hear me out." His voice had that rehearsed quality that told me he'd been planning this conversation. "Caleb isn't going to challenge me directly, not at first. He's going to probe for weaknesses. And the fastest way to hurt me—" His voice caught slightly. "—is through you."
"So you want me to hide." My tone came out flat, controlled. Inside, Thalia was already snarling.
"I want you to be safe." He pulled out his phone, showing me photos of a house—beautiful, spacious, and completely isolated from my life. "There's a house in Cedar Heights—three bedrooms, finished basement, high-end security system. It's available for lease starting next week."
"You want me to move off campus. Away from my friends. Into some fortress where I'll be isolated and—"
"Protected," he interrupted. "Safe."
I jerked my hand away, my heart pounding.
"So your solution is to lock me away like some damsel in a tower? While you go off and train to be the big strong Alpha?"
"That's not—" He took a breath, visibly trying to control his frustration. "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to keep you alive."
"By making decisions for me!" My voice rose and several students glanced over. I forced it lower, but the anger—the hurt—made my words sharp. "I'm not some weak little wolf who needs a big strong Alpha to make her choices. I survived eighteen years before you showed up, Jackson. I can take care of myself."
Thalia, tell him. Tell him we're not prey. We're not helpless.
But even as the words left my mouth, I saw the argument from his perspective—saw myself trapped under ice, consciousness fading, death approaching. He'd saved me. Of course he was terrified it would happen again.
That doesn't make this right, though.
Jackson was quiet for a moment, something shifting in his expression. When he spoke, his voice was careful, measured.
"I know you're strong. That's not the issue. But Caleb is dangerous in ways you haven't experienced. He's not some college boy with anger issues. He's a trained Alpha who's killed challengers. And if he thinks hurting you will weaken me—"
"Then we deal with it together." I sat back down, my anger shifting into something more vulnerable. Please understand. Please don't make me choose between you and my independence. "Don't you get it? Pushing me away, hiding me away—that's what will weaken us. We're stronger as a team."
"I can't lose you," he admitted quietly, and the raw fear in his voice cut through my anger. "If something happened to you because of me, because of this family bullshit—"
"You won't." I took his hand again, gentler this time. He was scared. Not controlling—scared. There's a difference. "But you have to trust me to be part of this. To make my own choices about my safety."
We sat in silence, the weight of everything—Caleb, the training, the danger—pressing down on both of us. Finally, he nodded.
"Okay. But some kind of compromise? The house has separate entrances, multiple exit routes. What if—" He paused, and I could see him choosing his words carefully. "What if we both moved there? Officially. Together."
My breath caught. "You mean..."
"Tell everyone we're getting a place together. Typical college couple thing. But it gives us better security than the dorms, a space to train, and we're not separated." He was watching my face carefully. "You'd have your own room, your independence. But we'd be together when it matters."
Together. Not hidden away while he fights. Actually together.
"My parents would freak out," I said, but my mind was already working through the logistics, the possibilities.
"Would they? I've already stayed at their place. This is just... more official." He squeezed my hand. "Plus, remember what we talked about at the end of last semester? We just tell them the truth—that we're mates who can't stand being apart." A slight smile tugged at his lips. "Pretty sure your dad will appreciate the honesty. And your mom already threatened to adopt me after that Christmas dinner, so..."
Despite everything, I felt my lips twitch. "She did seem unusually enthusiastic about setting an extra place for you."
"See? They'll understand." His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. "Besides, what are they going to say? 'Sorry, you can't move in with your fated mate because... reasons'? Your mom literally gave us 'the talk' and a box of condoms. I think we're past the point of them pretending we're just casual."
My face heated at the memory. "Oh god, don't remind me."
"I'm just saying—they know this is serious. The mate bond kind of takes 'moving too fast' off the table as a concern."
I was quiet, weighing everything. The security angle made sense. Having a place to train made sense. But most importantly—he was asking, not telling. He'd listened when I pushed back. He was offering a compromise that let me keep my agency.
Finally, I sighed. "Fine. But on two conditions."
I held up fingers, channeling every ounce of determination I had. This had to be on my terms too.
"One: I get full access to the security system and control codes. No secret monitoring without my knowledge."
"Agreed."
"Two: The basement you mentioned? That becomes a training space for both of us. You're not the only one who needs to get stronger."
He nodded slowly. "Miles can probably arrange some self-defense instruction—"
"Not self-defense. Combat training. I want to learn how to actually fight, not just escape." Thalia pushed forward, making my eyes flash amber. "Thalia is done being weak."
I watched him think about it—really think about it.
"Let's do it." he said finally.