Chapter 120: ⊰ 120 ⊱ Love Like a Lie

| Penelope |

The hangar hums with quiet activity as we approach the familiar sleek private jet. Pack members move efficiently, loading luggage into the cargo hold. I adjust Elio’s wrap against my chest, his warm weight a comfort against the nervous energy thrumming through my veins.

The aircraft’s stairs stretch before us. Malachi walks beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body, but careful not to touch. Behind us, Jax moves with that authoritative grace that’s become so familiar, while Elijah brings up the rear, looking every inch the polished businessman heading off on routine travel.

“Luna Penelope.” One of the pack members approaches with a respectful nod. “Your luggage has been secured. The pilot is completing final checks.”

“Thank you,” I reply softly, surprised by how natural it feels to slip back into the role of Luna, even temporarily.

We board in silence, each step taking us further from the island. The interior is as luxurious as I remember—cream leather seats arranged in intimate groupings, polished wood accents, large windows offering views of endless sky.

I choose a seat by one of the windows, settling carefully with Elio as the men take their positions. Malachi sits across from me, close enough to help if needed but with respect to boundaries. Jax takes a seat with clear sightlines to both the entrance and our position, his body language alert despite his casual clothes. Elijah claims a spot near the front, already pulling out his phone.

Before the pilot can begin his pre-flight announcements, movement at the aircraft door catches my attention. Rook climbs aboard. He doesn’t sit, just stands in the aisle, his gaze moving deliberately between Jax and Malachi.

“Gentlemen,” he begins, “I want to be very clear about something.”

Neither man responds, but their attention is complete.

“You have a mission. Intelligence gathering. Nothing more, nothing less.” His eyes settle on Malachi first, then shift to Jax. “This is not an opportunity for personal vendettas, romantic gestures, or settling scores. It’s not a chance to run.”

The warning hits its mark. I see both men tense, though they keep their expressions carefully neutral.

“The safety of my sister and nephew is paramount,” Rook continues, his gaze encompassing both of them. “Any deviation from the mission parameters, any action that puts them at risk, will have consequences.”

He lets that hang in the air for a moment before his eyes find mine. The look we exchange is brief but loaded—a reminder, reassurance. Then he’s moving toward the door.

“Safe travels,” he says, and there’s something almost like affection in his voice. “Bring them home safely.”

The door closes behind him with a solid thunk, sealing us in together. Almost immediately, the pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom: “Preparing for departure. Please ensure your seatbelts are fastened.”

As I reach for my seatbelt with one hand while supporting Elio with the other, Malachi leans forward. “Here, let me help.”

His fingers brush mine as he takes the belt, and the contact sends an unexpected jolt through me. For a moment, our eyes meet, and I see something vulnerable there—hope, maybe, or longing. But I force myself to look away, focusing on Elio’s peaceful face.

The engines spin up, their whine growing louder as we taxi toward the runway. Through the window, I watch the island’s coastline blur past, knowing that once we’re airborne, there’s no turning back.

Finally, the plane lifts off smoothly.

For several minutes, no one speaks. The only sounds are the steady hum of engines and Elio’s soft breathing against my chest. But as we reach cruising altitude and the plane levels out, I notice Jax unbuckling his seatbelt.

He stands, his eyes finding mine across the cabin. There’s something purposeful in his gaze, something that makes my pulse quicken with apprehension.

“Penelope,” he calls. With a slight nod toward the back of the plane, he adds, “Could we speak privately?”

I glance toward the rear of the aircraft, noting what appears to be a separate compartment with its own door. My stomach tightens with nervous energy.

“I…” I begin, then stop, uncertain.

Jax’s expression softens slightly. “Please. We need to discuss the... procedure. Before we land.”

The mark. He’s talking about removing the mark.

I look down at Elio, then across at Malachi, whose jaw has tightened almost imperceptibly. The air in the cabin feels suddenly thick with tension.

“Malachi,” I say softly, meeting his eyes. “Would you... could you hold him?”

Relief flashes across his face so quickly I almost miss it. “Of course.”

He moves to my seat without hesitation, his hands gentle but sure as I transfer our son to his arms. Elio settles against his father’s chest with a contented sigh, his tiny fist curling around Malachi’s shirt.

But as I stand to follow Jax, I feel fingers wrap around my wrist—not painful, but firm. Possessive. I turn to find Malachi looking up at me, his gray eyes dark with something primal and desperate.

For a moment, we just stare at each other. In that single look, a hundred words pass between us. His fear. My uncertainty. The weight of everything we’ve lost and everything we might still lose. The knowledge that what happens in that back room could change everything.

I see him struggle with himself, his Alpha instincts warring with his promise to respect my choices. The muscle in his jaw ticks, and I can smell the tension rolling off him in waves.

After what feels like an eternity, he sighs—a sound heavy with resignation and reluctant trust. Slowly, his fingers release my wrist.

Part of me wants to reassure him, to explain that this isn’t what he’s thinking. The words rise to my lips, an instinctive need to comfort him even when I know I don’t owe him an explanation. I part my lips to speak, to say something—anything—to ease the pain I see in his eyes. But before I can form the words,

Jax calls out again, “Penelope.”

With a sigh that matches Malachi’s, I turn away and follow Jax toward the back of the plane.

The private compartment is more intimate than I expected. A king-size bed dominates the space, covered in luxurious linens the color of midnight. Warm lights cast everything in a golden glow—an atmosphere that feels almost romantic despite the circumstances.

Jax closes the door behind us with a soft click, and suddenly the space feels impossibly small. I wrap my arms around myself, hyperaware of his presence behind me.

“What’s going on?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

“The mark,” he says simply, and I feel him moving closer. “I need to remove it before we reach our destination. Unless…” He pauses, and I hear the tinge of hope rising in his voice. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

Unless I don’t want you to?

I turn to face him fully. “I never wanted it in the first place.”

His expression hardens. “Yes, you did.” His voice carries absolute certainty. “I felt it, Penelope. When I marked you, you wanted it. Your body, your wolf—they recognized me.”

“How would you know?” The words come out sharp. “Did you ever ask? Did you give me a choice?”

“I felt—”

“Feelings can betray,” I cut him off, anger building in my chest. “Feelings can lie. You made a mess of my life, Jax. You confused everything, turned everything upside down.” My voice cracks slightly. “And I allowed it. I allowed you.”

The words hang in the air between us, brutal honesty. I see the hurt flash across his face—raw and immediate—before it transforms into something darker. Something possessive.

He takes a step toward me, then another, until I’m backing against the wall. His hands come up to brace on either side of my head, caging me in.

“You still think this is all one-sided?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I forced this bond on you? You responded to me, Penelope. Every touch, every kiss—you wanted it as much as I did.”

“I was confused,” I protest, but my voice sounds weak even to my own ears.

“Were you?” He leans closer, his scent surrounding me. “Or were you finally feeling what you were supposed to feel? What we were meant to be?”

The space between us is taut with tension, with the pull of the mate bond that still connects us. My heart pounds against my ribs as his proximity overwhelms my senses.

“You could have chosen me from the beginning if you hadn’t been so stubborn,” he continues, his breath warm against my cheek. “If you hadn’t been so determined to cling to something that was never really yours.”

“Don’t,” I whisper, but I’m not sure what I’m protesting anymore.

His lips graze my neck, right over the mark that brands me as his. “I could finish what I started,” he whispers against my skin. “Make this permanent. Make you mine completely.”

My body betrays me, responding to his nearness with a warmth that spreads through my veins like honey. My eyes flutter closed as the mate bond sings between us, urging me to give in, to stop fighting what feels inevitable.

But in the darkness behind my eyelids, other images flash through my mind. Malachi’s face when he first held Elio. The way he looked at me when we first made love—real love—like I was everything he’d ever wanted. The quiet moments we shared, building something real and lasting despite how it began.

The life I’d always envisioned—not just with a mate, but with him.

Instead of the breathless “yes” Jax is clearly expecting, I force out different words: “Take it off. Now.”

Jax stiffens against me, his body going rigid with shock. The warmth of his breath against my neck stops, and for a moment, everything is perfectly still.

I let out a shaky breath, but when I speak again, my voice is steady. Certain. “I didn’t pick you, Jax. I didn’t choose you. And I’m not going to while my child and the father of my child are sitting in the other room.”

The silence stretches between us, the weight of rejection impossibly heavy. I can feel his tension, his disbelief, his slowly building rage.

“You’re making a mistake,” he says finally, his voice rough with emotion.

“Maybe,” I admit. “But it’s my mistake to make.”

Then, it happens—swift, sharp. I feel his canines extend and before I can react, before I can even draw breath, they sink deep into my flesh.

I inhale sharply, the sound cutting through the cabin’s quiet. But this isn’t the claiming bite I remember. This is something else entirely—a severing, a breaking, a fundamental tearing of bonds that were never meant to be undone.

A scream rips from my lungs, the physical pain immediate and intense, like fire spreading through my veins. But it’s nothing compared to the emotional agony that follows—a hollow ache in my chest where the mate bond used to pulse with life. It feels like losing a part of myself, like having something vital ripped away.

I don't know how I know, but I understand with crystal clarity what’s happening. This is what rejection feels like. This is the price of choosing my heart over destiny.

When Jax finally pulls away, I feel my legs give out. I slide down the wall, landing hard on the plush carpet, my hand flying to my neck to stem the flow of blood. Tears stream down my face—from pain, from relief, from the strange emptiness where the bond used to be.

Jax stands over me for a moment, his face a mask of hurt and fury. Without a word, he turns and storms out of the room, leaving me alone with the echoing silence and the taste of my own blood.

I don’t know how long I sit there before the door bursts open again. Malachi rushes in, his eyes wild with concern as he takes in the scene—me on the floor, blood seeping between my fingers, tears streaming down my face.

“Penny.” He’s beside me in an instant, grabbing tissues from a side table and pressing them gently against my neck. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, Mal.”

His hands are so gentle as he wipes away my tears, his voice soft and soothing. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

When my breathing finally steadies, when the worst of the shaking subsides, he pulls back to meet my eyes. There’s no triumph in his gaze, no satisfaction at Jax’s rejection. Only compassion—deep and understanding.

“You rejected him, didn’t you?” he asks quietly.

I look into his gray eyes and see the reflection of my own pain there.

He knows. Of course he knows. He’s been exactly where I am now.

I don’t answer. I don’t have to.

“Penny…” he whispers.

I want to lean into him. To beg him to forgive me. To tell him how much of an idiot I am and how I should’ve fought harder.

But Elio’s cry echoes, piercing the air from the main cabin. I start to push myself up, maternal instinct overriding everything else.

“I need to go check on him,” I say, my voice still shaky.

Malachi’s hand on my arm stops me. “Elijah has him.”

“I have to—”

“Stop.” The word carries the unmistakable weight of an Alpha command, and my body obeys before my mind can process it. I freeze, looking at him with surprise.

His expression softens immediately, regret flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean... Please, just talk to me. Little rabbit… let me help.”

Little rabbit…

The gentle authority in his voice, the way my body responded without conscious thought—it’s the imprint mark. The bond we formed when he claimed me, stronger now that Jax’s influence has been severed.

And in that moment, looking at this man who’s seen me at my lowest and still treats me with such tenderness, I’m struck by a terrible realization.

I don’t deserve him. Maybe I never did.

Elio’s cries grow more insistent, and the sound breaks through my paralysis. I pull away from Malachi, the weight of my own inadequacy crushing down on me.

“I need to…” I can’t finish the sentence, can’t explain the sudden need to escape his kindness when I know I don’t deserve it.

I slip past him and out of the room, my movements mechanical. In the main cabin, Elijah sits holding Elio, bouncing him gently as he fusses. When he sees me, there’s something in his eyes—knowledge, understanding. He knows what just happened, but he doesn’t say anything as I take Elio from his arms.

“Thank you,” I murmur, settling into my original seat.

I rock Elio gently, humming under my breath as his cries gradually subside. Across the cabin, Jax sits alone, staring out the window. He won’t look at me, won’t acknowledge my presence, and I don't blame him.

As Elio finally settles into peaceful sleep against my chest, I catch myself glancing toward the back of the plane where Malachi still waits. The hollow ache in my chest where the mate bond used to be throbs with each heartbeat.

Did I let it happen? Did I allow Jax to mark me in the first place because some part of me knew I could never measure up to being the mate Malachi deserves?

Jax’s words echo in my mind:

“It’s only a matter of time before you realize that a life with me is a life where you never have to worry about whether you’re right for me.”

Malachi was never an option for me. I’m a divorcée. A college drop-out who worked at a trashy diner and got knocked up by a man I didn’t know in the alley of a bar.

A man like Malachi was never an option for me.

But I’ve always been an option for him. A fallback. A fantasy. A placeholder for the woman he’ll one day actually want—when he finally decides to want more.

And maybe that’s all I’ve ever been good at.

Taking up space in people’s lives until they remember what they really deserve.

Self-sabotage is a real thing. As real as the realization that I only ever considered Jax because I know, deep down, that I can never be enough for a man like Malachi.

I stare down at Elio, his tiny hand curled around my index finger, blissfully unaware of the wreckage I’ve made of us.

And I wonder, not for the first time, how I’m supposed to teach him what love looks like when I’ve never believed I deserved it myself.