Page 42 of Wild Games

She’s young, probably here supporting a friend rather than competing herself. Perfect for spreading information.

I glance around as if checking for eavesdroppers, then lean in slightly and pat her hand. “Don’t worry. I think I have it figured out. I just need to find Dean to make sure I’m right.”

Staring around the room, then back to me, her eyes go wide. “You mean, you know who…”

I press my fingers to my lips, and she immediately stops talking.

“I can’t say yet.” I touch her arm lightly. “But by tomorrow morning, I’m hoping this will all be sorted out.” Scanning the room, I make a big show of looking for Dean. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen Dean?”

She practically vibrates with the need to share this news. “That’s... that’s great.” Closing her eyes, she reaches out via mind link to her alpha. “He’s not responding, but I think he’s in his cabin.”

Nodding, I smile. “Thank you.”

She excuses herself moments later, and I track her progress across the room. She goes straight to a group of friends, leaning in to whisper urgently. They gasp, looking my way, then start their own whispered conversations.

Within ten minutes, the room is buzzing with gossip that the perpetrator is about to get caught, that I’ve found significant evidence and just need Dean to confirm it. The trap is set.

I continue eating calmly, though my nerves tighten with each passing moment. The hardest part is coming. Once I leave this crowded hall, I become a target. My hand drifts to my necklace, checking that the charm is still there.

“Excuse me,” I murmur to my tablemates. My ass has barely left the chair before they start openly debating what Callum and I might have found, their eyes following me as I exit the room and make a brief pit stop at the bathroom.

It’s mercifully empty when I enter. I splash cold water on my face, studying my reflection in the harsh fluorescent light. I look calm, professional. No sign of the fear building in my chest, or the knowledge that in a few minutes, I’ll be deliberately putting myself in danger. I force myself to linger, to let the news spread even wider through the guests and give the culprit enough time to act.

Sucking in a few deep breaths, I’m trying to slow my heartbeat when the door opens behind me. I spin, hand moving instinctively to my weapon, only to freeze when I see who it is.

Jax stands there, wearing the same clothes from this morning with dishevelled hair from his day spent in wolf-form spying on me from the forest, but his eyes are clear and focused. The sight of him here, now, sends relief flooding through me.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper, glancing toward the door, despite being so grateful that he is. “If someone sees you...”

We lock eyes, so much passing between us in that one look.

“I know.” He stays near the entrance, arms folded, maintaining distance, as if he doesn’t trust himself to come closer, but I see the twitch in his fingers, giving away his unease.

“I’m fine.” The words are automatic. I can’t let myself think any differently. Feel the fear and do it anyway, and all that.

“Liar.” The word is gentle, understanding. “I’ve got your back.” He takes one careful step closer, just one. “I know you can handle yourself, and I know you’re trained for this. But I’ll be there.”

My throat tightens at the promise. “Jax… the others have their protection runes. You’ll be vulnerable…”

He crosses the remaining distance in two strides, but instead of the desperate passion of our previous encounters, his hands come up slowly, telegraphing his movements, before cupping my face with such gentleness.

“Be careful,” he whispers. “Please.”

He kisses me, a lingering embrace full of longing and devotion, and I kiss him right back. It lasts only a heartbeat before he pulls back, already moving toward the door.

“Jax?”

He pauses without turning.

“Thank you.”

A slight nod, and then he’s gone.

I take several deep breaths to centre myself and return to finish my performance.

The dining hall hasn’t settled in my absence. If anything, the whispers have grown more urgent. I make my way back to the table and take my jacket from the back of my chair, checking carefully to make sure my knife is still in my pocket, before I bid everyone a good night.

More meaningful looks are exchanged at the tables around us as I pass.