Chapter 158
Ellie's POV
"Then we have minutes at best." Jackson's voice was grim. "Jealous werewolf plus full moon proximity equals disaster. Our priority is containment. Get him out of there before he shifts, get Samantha and whoever else out of harm's way, and pray nobody saw anything they shouldn't."
I nodded, running through scenarios in my head. Best case: we arrive, Lucas is still outside waiting, we talk him down and convince him to leave. Worst case: he's already inside, already transforming, already past the point of reason.
"If he's too far gone," I said quietly, "I might be able to reach him through the pack bond. He and I—we've known each other since we were kids. Conall knows Thalia."
Jackson glanced at me, something complicated flickering across his face. "And if that doesn't work?"
"Then you'll have to use Alpha pressure to force him down. I know you're not officially recognized yet, but you're strong enough. He'll feel it."
"That'll expose me to him. He'll know what I am."
"He already suspects." I thought of the way Lucas had looked at Jackson and me together, the way his eyes had tracked our closeness with something beyond simple jealousy. "And right now, I care more about preventing a massacre than keeping secrets from my ex-best friend."
We drove in tense silence for another block. Then Jackson spoke again, softer. "You know this might not be what it looks like. Lucas is... he's not exactly stable when it comes to you. This could be him manufacturing a crisis to get you back in his life."
I'd thought of that. "Doesn't matter. If there's even a chance he's about to lose control—"
"Then we have to respond. I know." He reached over and squeezed my hand briefly. "I just don't want you to feel guilty if this turns out to be manipulation."
"I won't," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure that was true.
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Maple Grove Apartments appeared through the windshield—a high-tier student housing complex, brick and vinyl siding, cars clustered around each building. Lucas had rented Samantha a unit on the third floor. Building C.
We were still two blocks away when I felt it—that wrongness intensifying, Thalia's hackles rising in response to a packmate's distress. Not my own loss of control. Just... awareness. The way you might smell smoke before you see the fire.
"He's here," I murmured. "And he's not okay."
Jackson's jaw tightened. He accelerated, eyes scanning the parking lot for Lucas's car.
There—the silver sedan near the building entrance, driver's door hanging open, his gym bag still visible on the front seat.
"He didn't wait," Jackson said flatly.
My heart sank. Twenty minutes, I'd told him. Had he even made it five before charging in?
Jackson parked in the side visitor lot, killing the engine. We both sat for a moment, testing the air with senses far sharper than any human's.
Anger. Thick and acrid, drifting from the third floor like smoke. Adrenaline. Pain. And underneath it all, so faint I almost missed it—
Blood.
"Someone's bleeding," I whispered.
Jackson's eyes flashed gold. "Not much. Could be a split lip, a nosebleed. Could be worse." He caught my wrist as I reached for the door handle. "Ellie. Listen to me. Whatever we see in there, you cannot lose control. I know you won't—I know you're stronger than this. But if Lucas is shifting, if there's violence, your instinct will be to protect. You have to resist that."
"I will."
"And if things go completely sideways, if exposure becomes inevitable..." He didn't finish. Didn't have to.
If we couldn't stop Lucas from shifting in front of witnesses, we might have to make a choice. Let Samantha see. Let whoever else was in there see. And then... what? I didn't want to think about the "what."
"Let's just stop it from getting that far," I said.
We moved fast and silent toward Building C. Third floor. Unit 3B.
The hallway was eerily quiet—no music bleeding through doorways, no conversations, no normal signs of student life. As if everyone had unconsciously decided to be elsewhere tonight.
Then we heard it.
Through the door of 3B, muffled but unmistakable: Lucas's voice, guttural and strained, carrying that metallic resonance that meant he was fighting partial transformation.
"I trusted you—"
Samantha, high and defensive: "I didn't—you don't understand—"
And then a third voice. Male. Older. Smooth and deliberately provocative, with an undercurrent of something I couldn't quite identify. Not quite mockery. Not quite threat. Just... pressure.
"I'd suggest you calm down, Miller. You're scaring your girlfriend. Look at yourself."
Ice flooded my veins. Look at yourself. That meant Lucas was showing signs. Visible signs. Eyes changing, maybe. Teeth. Claws beginning to emerge.
And there was someone else in there. Someone who could see.
A heavy crash from inside—furniture shattering, Samantha's shriek cut short.
Jackson and I locked eyes. I saw my own horror reflected back.
"You take the front," I said, decision crystallizing in an instant. "Draw attention, get control of the room. I'll go around to the balcony—if Samantha's in shock, I can block her view, get her out through the sliding door."
"Ellie—"
"You're stronger. You can force Lucas down if you have to." I was already moving toward the hallway emergency exit. "I handle Samantha and whoever else. We keep the humans oblivious."
For a second I thought he'd refuse. Then he nodded once, sharp. "Be fast. And be safe."
I didn't answer. I was already through the exit door, heading for the external stairwell, calculating the fastest route to the third-floor balcony.
Behind me, I heard Jackson's footsteps sprint down the hall.
Then—Lucas's voice, exploding from inside the apartment: "You dare touch her?!"
More crashes. The unmistakable sound of bodies colliding, flesh hitting flesh.
A roar. Too deep. Too animal.
Jackson didn't hesitate. The crack of his boot connecting with the apartment door echoed through the stairwell, followed by the splintering of wood as the lock gave way.
I grabbed the balcony railing two floors up and pulled myself over, Thalia's strength flooding my limbs without the loss of control. I could do this. I could stay human and still use her power. I'd done it a thousand times.
The sliding glass door to 3B's balcony was closed but not locked. I eased it open, staying low.
Inside, chaos.
Too late.
We were already too late.
Lucas had fully transformed into his wolf form. His wolf, Conall, had someone pinned against the wall—not Samantha. A man, mid-twenties, dark hair, expensive clothes.
Caleb? What the hell was he doing here? In Samantha's apartment?
Samantha stood frozen in the corner, both hands over her mouth, mascara streaming down her face.
And in the doorway, Jackson. Taking in the scene with cold calculation.
"Everyone stop. Now." His voice carried a weight that made even me want to obey. Alpha command, unmistakable and absolute.