I’m about to ask Jack what’s made him go all extra twitchy over Rohan when he beats me to it with a distractingly random question.
“Do you remember when I told your mum my name was Liam?” The thoughtful expression is back on his face.
It takes me a minute to recalibrate, searching through my memories until I find the one Jack is referring to and come up with an appropriate response. “Yeah, I figured you were giving her a fake name, so she’d leave you alone.”
“Nah.” Jack turns his head to look at me. “Liamismy real name. I don’t quite know who changed it or why, but in the few blurry memories I have of my mum, I vividly remember her calling meLiam. I didn’t start going by Jack until after Obsidian Inc. got hold of me.”
I give myself some time to absorb the information, always eager to know more about Jack but also hesitant because I don’t quite understand why he’s telling me this right now. It’s intriguing and weird, for sure, but I don’t get its relevance to anything we’re talking about.
“How about your dad?” I ask, realising Jack didn’t mention him. “Did he call you Liam?”
“I don’t remember my dad.” Jack doesn’t sound upset by the fact he has no memories of his father, but he does seem irritated by his inability to answer my question. “No idea what he called me, or if he was even around when I was a kid.”
“But isn’t your name Jack Roth, like, legally?” I push, thinking it over a little more and coming up twice as confused. “I mean, my aunt didn’t tell me you were called anything else on the official records they have for you. Or does she not know?”
“Your aunt knows everything.” Jack snorts, reasoning, “She might be keeping the truth to herself to be revealed in a suitably dramatic fashion at some point in the future. She might think I don’t remember.”
“That sounds depressingly possible,” I allow, making a face at the thought of my aunt keeping very personal secrets from Jack just to retain some invisible control over him. I peer at Jack contemplatively and ask, “Why are you telling me this now?”
Jack heaves a shrug and releases a long, frustrated sigh. “I’m just … trying to think why Ian Stone let Dan live. He was supposed to die as punishment for both of us trying to escape OI. Stone isn’t a merciful man. He isn’t the type to go back on his decisions either.”
I follow his line of thinking. “So what would make him change his mind about not only letting Dan live but actively saving his life?”
From what I know about how the original fight went down between Jack and Dan, they would have had to swoop in pretty fast to stop Dan from bleeding out from the neck wound Jack gave him. They must have been ready to save him even before Jack stabbed him with the glass they’d provided them with to fight to the death.
“Exactly.” Jack huffs irately, glowering into the distance like he can see something there he wants to beat into the ground. “I have no fucking idea, and it’s bugging the shit out of me.”
There's really nothing I can say to that. I don’t have any more idea than Jack. I don’t know Ian Stone like Jack does, or Rohan for that matter. The best person to askwould beRohan, but I don’t want to suggest it and make Jack go all weird again by mentioning the name of his frenemy.
Instead, I offer the only thing I can. My allegiance. We’ll find answers to the questions Jack has about his brother together.
“It’s not just because he’s your brother,” I tell Jack earnestly, needing him to know that I’m in this thing with him, that I truly care about the outcome. “I meant what I said to Anabelle. I’d want to help Dan no matter what.”
Jack gives me a shockingly soft look, one I haven’t seen on his face before, all fragile emotion and freshly born hope, still stumbling around on its unused, infant legs.
“I know.” Jack leans in closer to me, eyes flickering to my mouth and then back up again to keep our gazes locked. “That’s why I trust you to do this with me.”
I eclipse the last bit of space between us and catch his lips in a hard kiss. Jack doesn’t hesitate to kiss me back, hand coming up to palm my jaw and tip my face to a better angle so he’s able to deepen the kiss, making it something overwhelming and feverish rather than gentle and coaxing.
Jack bites down on my bottom lip, eliciting a low moan, tugging it out like it was something buried inside a deep cavernous space. The sound vibrates through both of us, and Jack gives an answering rumble of approval. He moves his hand into the hair at the back of my head and gives a vicious yank on it, jerking my head back and baring my throat for him to mouth at and do a random pattern of little nipping bites.
“Want to go upstairs?” I ask him on a breathless gasp when he puts his free hand on my upper thigh, fingers so close to my groin, and squeezes it with clear intent.
Jack doesn’t even bother to answer with words. He just gets up from the sofa, taking me with him easily, proving once again his strength is so much more immense than he sometimes acknowledges.
King gets excited about the proceedings, looking like he might jump down and follow after us. I point a warning finger at him. “No, King, you stay here, okay, buddy?”
King pants happily up at me, head tilting to the side like he’s listening. But when Jack and I go to leave, he gets up to chase after us.
Jack shunts me toward the door and turns back to King. He looks down at him with a serious expression on his face and commands, “King, stay.”
I scowl at both of them when King settles back down immediately on the sofa. He peeks up at us but makes no move to follow when Jack starts hustling us out of the living room.
“What was that?” I demand as we make our way up the stairs together.
Jack shoots me a discerning look. “You don’t ask dogs questions,” he explains. “It confuses them. You gotta be direct and clear, so they get it.”
“Oh, okay, apologies, Alpha Jack,” I scoff, bumping him with my shoulder. “I didn’t realise you werethe dog whisperer.”
