What He Wants

Close call

Kaitlyn

Three days into Crescent Hill and I already feel like a fraud on the edge of collapse.

Every breath I take under this disguise tightens my chest—not just from the bindings, but from the sheer weight of pretending. I’m not Kai. I’m Kaitlyn. And no matter how many times I lower my voice or sharpen my stride, the truth clings to me like a scent I can’t shake.

The mornings are brutal. We’re up before dawn, running drills, scaling obstacle courses, and practicing hand-to-hand until my muscles scream in betrayal. Jax always seems to keep pace without so much as a drop of sweat. It’s inhuman. Unfair. Infuriating.

And somehow… captivating.

I hate how often I catch myself watching him. Studying the shape of his jaw when he laughs with Reed, or the way his eyes narrow when he’s focused on a target. Even worse is how my wolf responds to him—restless, drawn, aching. Like it knows what I keep trying to forget.

He’s my mate.

And I’m lying to him every single second.

---

We’re halfway through week one when the first mission simulation is announced.

Captain Renna marches across the field, her boots sinking into the damp grass. Behind her, a white board flashes with digital names and partner assignments.

"Team missions begin today. You’ll be dropped in pairs into designated zones across campus. Each zone has a set of objectives. Retrieve a marker. Survive the terrain. Return in one piece."

My stomach knots.

"Kai Rivers and Jax Maddox. Zone Four. East Forest."

Of course.

Of all the people they could pair me with, they pair me with him. The guy who could probably sniff out my lie if I so much as breathe too deeply.

Jax doesn’t even react. Just adjusts the strap of his pack and glances my way.

"You good?"

"yeah." I mutter, and follow him toward the treeline.

Zone Four is dense woodland. Sloped terrain, loose gravel, high humidity, and ankle-deep underbrush. We’re given a basic map, a compass, and one emergency flare.

No phones. No trackers. No help.

"Keep close," Jax says, brushing branches aside. "Ground here’s slippery."

I nod, doing my best to step lightly. My balance is off from the binding, and my back already aches from the weight of the pack.

We hike in silence, focused on getting to the objective. Jax moves confidently, marking the map mentally with every fallen tree or rocky slope. I keep my attention divided between the environment and him.

"How good are you with directions?"

"I don’t get lost."

He grins. "I like that."

My ears burn. Goddess help me.

We climb a low hill where the trees thin, giving us a view of a small ravine ahead. The marker should be somewhere inside, tied to a tree near a water stream. Jax crouches to examine the slope.

"We’ll have to slide down. Watch your footing."

I manage to half-slide, half-stumble down without eating dirt. Barely. He follows behind and lands gracefully. Figures.

When we find the marker strapped to a pine tree, we high-five—barely—but I can’t help smiling. For a second, I forget everything. I feel like Kai. Like someone strong. Brave.

Until the storm hits.

Out of nowhere, clouds roll in, dark and fast. Wind howls through the trees, and rain slams down. The trail becomes a mudslide. Jax curses.

"We need shelter. Now."

We find a small ridge beneath a canopy of stone and brush. It’s not ideal, but it keeps the worst of the rain out.

By the time we squeeze inside, we’re soaked. My hoodie clings to me like a second skin, and the bindings under my shirt dig painfully into my ribs. My breath stutters.

Jax notices.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I say too fast.

He narrows his eyes.

"You’re breathing weird."

"Just tight binding. Too much running."

He nods slowly, not pressing further. But he watches me longer than I’d like.

We sit in silence. Rain thunders around us.

Then he speaks. "You remind me of someone."

My heart skips.

"Who?"

"A girl I met once. Years ago. Didn’t talk much. Always looked like she had something to prove."

"Did you like her?"

He’s quiet for a long moment. "I felt her. My wolf wouldn’t shut up for days after she left."

I stare ahead. "What happened to her?"

"She disappeared."

Guilt twists in my stomach.

"Maybe she had a good reason."

He exhales. "Maybe. Still wish she told me the truth."

We go quiet again.

After a while, he shifts closer. His warmth seeps through the air between us.

"You smell… different," he murmurs.

My breath catches.

"Different how?"

"Like you’re hiding something, but I don’t know what. It’s subtle. Familiar."

I force a casual shrug. "Probably the rain messing with everything."

He watches me for a moment longer, then leans back.

We camp there for the night. Jax keeps watch. I lie awake, shivering and aching, hoping I don’t cough or shift in my sleep and ruin everything.

Later, when I think he’s dozed off, I whisper, "I wish I could tell you."

But I can’t.

At dawn, we hike back in silence.

No questions. No accusations. But Jax keeps glancing at me like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

Back at base, we report in. Captain Renna logs our success, nods once, and moves on. No red flags. No raised suspicions.

But I know the line I’m walking is razor thin.

And I can’t afford to slip.

---

Later that evening, after dinner and cleanup, I head to the training hall to clear my mind. It’s empty except for one punching bag, swinging slightly from the breeze through the window. I start hitting it slowly, then faster, imagining my parents’ faces. Their betrayal. The engagement.

Then I imagine Jax finding out. His face. His anger.

My punches falter.

"You train late too?"

I whirl around. Jax stands by the door, arms crossed.

"Couldn’t sleep," I admit.

He walks over, leans on the nearby bench. "You’re strong, you know."

I blink at him.

"You keep up with everyone, push yourself harder than most. Doesn’t go unnoticed."

"Thanks."

"But it feels like you’re fighting something invisible," he adds softly. "Like you’re not just here to prove yourself—you’re trying to survive something."

My mouth goes dry.

"Maybe I am."

"Whatever it is, I hope it doesn’t break you."

We stand there for a long time, the air thick with words unsaid. Then he leaves me alone.

I stare at the punching bag, sweat dripping down my back, heart twisting in confusion.

This lie was supposed to protect me.

So why does it feel like it’s killing me more with each passing day?