Page 9 of Noah

No. No, no, no.

My chest tightened, panic clawing its way up my throat. This couldn’t be happening.

Jackson didn’t deserve this. He shouldn’t be punished for something I did—or something Adrian did.

My heart pounded, drowning out the room’s muffled noise. Jackson was doing this for me. Protecting me. Taking the blame for me.

Before I knew what I was doing, I broke free from the hand holding me back. My feet stumbled, and then I was running, everything around me a blur as I hurled myself toward Jackson.

I wrapped my arms tightly around him, gripping him like he was the only solid thing in the room.

“Don’t hurt him!” My voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “He didn’t do anything! It wasn’t his fault—it was mine!”

The weight of the room’s attention fell on me, but I couldn’t stop. My breath hitched, and my words spilled out. “Adrian started it! He’s lying! He kept pushing us!”

The room exploded again, voices rising and crashing into each other, but I didn’t care.

I buried my face against Jackson’s shoulder, clutching him as if letting go would shatter everything.

This was all my fault. If I’d just walked away, if I hadn’t let Adrian get under my skin… Jackson wouldn’t be here, about to be hurt because of me.

My arms tightened around him, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the chaos.

Just don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him. Please.

Chapter 3

Jackson/ Noah

JACKSON

Present

“I have a bone to pick with you," Hudson began, his voice low and simmering with frustration. But I wasn't listening.

My focus shifted, locking onto the two werewolves who had just entered the bar.

They were big, muscular, and carried themselves with the kind of arrogance that set my teeth on edge.

Their scent was foreign, unfamiliar—definitely not one of ours.

Their leather jackets bore the emblem of thorns twisted around a howling wolf—Thornbane.

The sight of it made my irritation spike into full-blown anger.

Adrian’s wolves had been growing bolder ever since he took over after his father’s mysterious death.

Rumors had swirled about how it happened, but none of us had any doubt Adrian had a hand in it.

They strode into our territory like they owned the place, with an air of smug confidence that suggested they expected no consequences.

It was a blatant challenge, a slap in the face to every wolf in this bar. They weren’t here to drink or socialize. They were here to provoke.

The bigger one, his grin cocky and self-assured, scanned the room until his gaze landed on us.

His expression widened into something more sinister when he recognized who we were.

He elbowed his companion, who followed his gaze and smirked, clearly amused by their audacity.

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