Chapter 3

Jax’s POV

“You’ll kill my daughter at this rate, you asshole,” Kai growled, his jaw clenched.

“It’s not like I want her to die too!” I snapped, my fists tightening.

“Then why the hell are you doing this to her?” he barked. “I’ve respected every damn choice of yours till now, but this? This is going too far. You’ve got five days, Jax. Five. Why the hell can’t you treat her with an ounce of decency?”

“I can’t control my wolf around her!” I roared, the words searing through my chest.

Kai’s eyes blazed. “I gave you my blessing to be with her. Officially. You didn’t need to wait anymore! But instead of claiming her, you’re tearing her apart. She’s already confused about her feelings, and you—you’re making it worse!”

Ty burst into the office, sensing the tension and moving straight to Kai, steadying his mate.

“Kai’s right,” Ty said grimly. “Zara hasn’t eaten or drunk anything in days. Ingrid says her wolf and dragon feel rejected. She’s getting weaker, Jax.”

I laughed bitterly, a sound that felt like it ripped through my throat. “Eighteen years—minus five days—I waited for my mate, and now I’m the villain.”

“None of us said—” Ty began, but I cut him off.

“I feel like I’m suffocating,” I muttered, my voice cracking even though I refused to shed tears in front of them. “You think this is easy for me? That I enjoy hurting her?”

Without another word, I shifted and bolted, my wolf needing the release, the escape, the quiet.

I ran deep into the woods and only stopped when I reached the lake. I collapsed on my knees, lapping at the water to quench my thirst, trying to think—trying not to feel.

She was my perfect mate.

The only one I ever wanted. And yet, I’d pushed her away again and again. I told myself I was protecting her, but I wasn’t sure anymore if I was just protecting myself.

Her face haunted me. Eighteen years of wanting her, dreaming of her, imagining what it’d be like to finally hold her—and now this mess.

I hated how jealous I got, how my wolf went feral every time someone else so much as looked at her. And those rumors... I knew they weren’t true, but it didn’t matter. My rage didn’t care for reason.

I shifted back into my human form, threw on my shorts, and sat near the lake, staring into the water.

My reflection looked like a stranger. Angry. Hollow.

I clenched my jaw and let out a slow, guttural exhale, pressing my forehead into my palms.

“What the hell am I doing?” I muttered. My voice cracked, but I wouldn’t let myself cry. Not again. I dug my nails into my knees, grounding myself with pain.

“You’re breaking,” came Kai’s voice behind me, softer now. “And that’s okay. But you don’t have to break alone.”

I didn’t turn around. “Leave me, Kai.”

Instead, he walked up and dropped beside me. Silent for a long minute.

Then he said, “You’re not weak, Jax. You’re holding back a damn tidal wave. No one’s blaming you for feeling like hell.”

I still didn’t look at him, but I listened.

“I’ve known pain,” he continued. “But watching your mate suffer and not being able to hold her? That’s a different kind of torture. One I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

My fists clenched. “I’m not crying, Kai.”

“I know,” he said. “You’re grieving.”

He didn’t hug me. Didn’t coddle me. Just sat beside me like a damn mountain—steady, solid. His presence was all I needed.

“I’m scared,” I finally admitted, voice low. “I’m scared she’ll never forgive me. That I’ve ruined everything.”

“She will,” he said confidently. “She’s just as broken without you. I see it every day.”

I stared out at the lake. “You really think she still wants me after all this?”

Kai let out a soft grunt. “You’re an idiot if you think she doesn’t. But you’re her idiot. You’ve been strong all these years. But maybe now, strength means facing her, not running.”

I didn’t respond. Just looked down at the dirt under my nails, the water glinting before me.

After a long pause, I said, “Thanks, Kai.”

“No problem,” he replied, standing and dusting his jeans. “But next time, don’t make me run through the woods like some romantic drama hero. I’m getting too old for that shit.”

I let out a short laugh, dry but genuine.

He offered me a hand, and I took it, letting him pull me to my feet.

“I’m not kissing you, by the way,” he smirked.

“God, no,” I groaned. “I’d punch you if you tried.”

“Good. We’re making progress,” he said, slapping my back as we walked together toward home.

I still felt like hell. But it was a little less lonely.

And sometimes, that made all the difference.