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84


Jaxon twisted restlessly, his body writhing beneath the warm sheets. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and his lips parted to whisper incoherently, head turning sharply side to side in panic. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. Andrea sat beside him, brushing his damp hair away from his temple. Her heart clenched with worry.

“Jaxon,” she whispered, holding his hand tightly. “I’m here, okay? I’m not leaving your side.”

His hand jerked weakly in hers, and he muttered again, “The moon… the moon is square…”

Andrea froze, remembering exactly what he had told her before. When the moon looked square in his dreams, it meant he was trapped in a nightmare. A deep, dark one he couldn’t wake from.

She cupped his face gently. “Jaxon, it’s all a dream,” she murmured softly. “You have to wake up. You’re safe now.”

In his unconscious mind, Jaxon was far from safety. He drifted through fragments of memory—the way Andrea laughed when she cooked, the way her brows furrowed when she was pretending not to care. They danced in the kitchen. Burnt toast. Flour on her nose. Her eyes—dark and wide and hiding something, but always kind.

“I really love you, Andrea,” he whispered aloud, voice raw. “I wish we could just be like this forever… no obstacles, no secrets. Just love. Just peace. Just us.”

As the words floated out of his mouth, his eyelids fluttered. Slowly, he opened them and blinked, confused but calm, the faintest smile curling at his lips. Beside him, Andrea had drifted into an exhausted sleep, her fingers still interlaced with his.

He smiled to himself, her presence like an anchor in his storm.

But the warmth didn’t last long. His body began to heat up rapidly, skin burning to the touch. Andrea jolted awake as she felt the heat radiating from him.

“Oh no,” she muttered, dipping a handkerchief into a nearby bowl of water. Gently, she placed the cool cloth on his forehead, wiping the sweat that drenched his brow.

His eyes fluttered again, and this time, he met her gaze.

“Andrea…” he whispered hoarsely.

She leaned closer. “Jaxon? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

He blinked, then looked around the room in disbelief. “Wait… I’m not dead? I’m still alive?”

Andrea nodded quickly, her eyes brimming with emotion. “Yes. You’re alive. Of course you are. I’m so sorry for what happened… it’s all my fault. I should’ve stopped it… I shouldn’t have let things get this far…”

Tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill, but Jaxon reached up and gently held her hand. His fingers were warm—too warm—but steady.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked quietly. “It’s not your fault. Neither of us can choose our parents… or our past. Maybe… maybe it all happened for a reason.”

“No,” she choked out. “It’s still my fault. If I hadn’t come into your life… if I’d just told you the truth from the beginning, none of this would’ve happened.”

He cupped her cheek, his touch soft and grounding.

“Listen to me,” he said. “It’s not your fault. The real reason I left my clan was because of the killing… the pressure to destroy others just to rise in power. That’s not who I am. That’s why I ran.”

Andrea blinked, stunned. Her breath caught.

“That was brave,” she whispered. “You were the Alpha, Jaxon. Walking away from that… it takes real courage.”

He gave a faint smile, his eyes dark with memory. “If staying meant I had to kill another Alpha, or an entire pack, just to prove my worth… I’d rather run. Because I knew—deep down—I might end up hurting someone I love. Someone like you.”

Andrea’s eyes widened. She felt her stomach flip. The truth loomed heavy between them—he still didn’t know who she truly was. That she was the girl his pack had hunted. The one they believed to be a threat. The very mission he once accepted and ran from.

He didn’t know she was that girl. And she wasn’t ready to tell him. Not yet.

So instead, she leaned forward and embraced him, wrapping her arms gently around his shoulders. Her fingers dug into his back, holding onto him like he might vanish.

You’ve been protecting me from the very beginning, Jaxon, she thought. But now… it’s my turn. I’ll protect you, even from the truth.

A nurse walked in quietly, interrupting the moment. She carried a tray of medications and a thermometer. The doctor Andrea had called earlier had finally arrived, and with him came a nurse, prepared and efficient. Andrea had transformed her home into a makeshift recovery center, complete with hospital sheets and emergency supplies.

The nurse administered an IV drip and adjusted Jaxon’s pillow with care, making notes in a small chart. When she finished, she nodded politely and exited the room.

Andrea exhaled and rose from the bed. She glanced back at Jaxon, who had already drifted off to sleep again, the fever slowly breaking.

She knew she couldn’t stay there forever. She had received a message earlier—a cryptic one from someone she hadn’t seen in a while. It had come through while she was still at the hospital, and it haunted her ever since.

The message had been short. A single sentence.

“Meet me at the school. It’s time.”

Now, she understood. She grabbed her hoodie, brushed her fingers through her tangled hair, and slipped out quietly.

The taxi ride was short. Rain had started to fall lightly, coating the windows in thin rivulets of silver. Her heart pounded as the car approached the school gates.

When she stepped out, the courtyard was eerily quiet. The wind tugged at her clothes, and the sound of her boots echoed against the concrete.

Then she saw him—standing at the far end, hood up, arms folded. As she approached, he turned slowly.

His face was half-hidden beneath the hood, but his expression was cold, unreadable. Eyes that once teased her now stared with a heavy, solemn weight.

Andrea’s stomach dropped.

He didn’t speak. Neither did she. Not at first.

Then, she tilted her chin, expression steely.

“It’s been a long time… from that day, Mr. Hoodie…”