Chapter FORTY-EIGHT
Caleb
Jay’s second mistake was entering the church alone. The first was teasing me. Jay still hasn’t learned not to entice a hunter. I stalk her, waiting until the right moment to go in for my kill. I’m itching to punish her.
I don’t see her, but I can smell her.
Come out. Come out. Wherever you are.
I pick up her scent instantly, and the sound of water running is easy to pinpoint. She’s in the bathroom.
Ready or not, here I come.
The only exit to this church is behind me. Which means she will have to walk past me to leave. There’s no escape. I’ll wait for her to come to me.
Seconds later, Jay appears, not yet aware I’m in the room as she fumbles trying to put her gloves on. When she looks up, she gasps, stopping several feet away from me. I could lunge and be on her instantly.
“Caleb.” She brings her hand to her chest. “You scared me.”
I scan her body, but the heat coursing through my veins runs cold when I notice marks on her wrists. “What is that?”
Jay hides her wrists behind her back. “It’s nothing.”
I only caught a glimpse of it, but it was enough. What I saw was not nothing. I stomp toward her and snatch her wrist, holding it up to my face. There isn’t just one but several slashes across the width of it. Some were recent, and others are scabbed or scarred.
I grab her other wrist, which also sustains the same marks. One scar in particular, though, is incredibly deep and directly over her radial artery. And of all the scars that could have killed her, this one scares me the most—this one happened under my protection.
Jay tries to pull herself out of my grasp.
“What happened? How did you get these?”
“From—From training.”
“Who did this to you?”
She pulls her wrists from my grasp and steps back. “Just forget it. I’m fine.”
I back her into a table and cage her in. “No, Jay, I will not just forget it. These lacerations cross major veins. I want a name, and I want it now.”
Along with my making whoever it was that did this to her pay, another thing runs through my mind. The king took her under his wing as a potential warrior, which means he is supposed to be overseeing everything and ensuring his people are safe. That includes my girl. If he won’t keep her protected, then forget it. King, or no king, she won’t be participating.
Her bottom lip quivers. I grip her chin and run my thumb across it.
“The name, Jay. Now.”
Her eyes drift to the floor. Quietly, she says, “It was me. I did it.”
All tension from my body drops. My brows unfurrow and mouth parts.
She shifts uncomfortably and looks at her surroundings, trying to escape.
I pick up on signs that she’s feeling trapped. I don’t want to trigger her, so I take one baby step back. It’s all the space my wolf will allow.
Her breathing evens out, and her heartbeat slows as the anxiety dissipates. As her dread subsides, she’s able to look me in the eye and be present again.
There she is.
Knowing she’s okay, my wolf and I sink into our relief—something I haven’t seen much of lately—but that feeling is short-lived. I recall the scars on her legs, and I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together sooner.
