Chapter Four Jasper’s POV – The Cinnamon Thread
1006 Words
“You look like you’re going to a funeral, not a diplomatic dinner.”
I shot Marcus a glare through the mirror as I adjusted the cuffs of my black button-up. The tailored shirt was tight across my chest, cut to my build, but the way I fidgeted with the collar made me feel like I was being strangled.
“This whole thing feels like a funeral,” I muttered. “I don’t like it.”
Marcus chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his dark gray blazer. “You mean a mandatory pack dinner hosted by a power-hungry Alpha with outdated laws and a stick up his a*s? Yeah, what’s not to love?”
I smirked, just a little. But the tension in my shoulders didn’t ease. “We shouldn’t even be here. Red River’s politics are none of our business.”
“Except they made it our business by requesting an alliance. And you, being the diplomatic Alpha that you are, decided to humor them.”
I turned and fixed Marcus with a look. “You think I came here for diplomacy?”
He raised a brow. “You didn’t?”
I hesitated. My fingers stilled at the collar.
I didn’t know why I came.
Maybe it was that name in the message. The signature of Alpha Jordan Blackwood, yes—but also… the timing. The feeling. The recurring ache in my chest that hadn’t dulled in over a decade.
April.
It was a ghost of a name. A memory coated in ash and smoke. A little girl with crimson hair, wide blue eyes, and a laugh that melted even my worst days. My Rosebud. My shadow.
Gone. Burned in the purge when her bloodline was destroyed.
But still, some part of me—some wolf part—refused to accept that.
Marcus didn't push again.
Red River Pack was infamous for its outdated customs, Omega a***e, and murky leadership structure. Jordan Blackwood, once the Alpha, had stepped down supposedly due to age, handing the role to his son Victor. But word was, Jordan still ran the show from behind the scenes under the Elder’s Council. And Victor? Conveniently missing.
“I don’t trust this,” I muttered.
Marcus shrugged into his charcoal blazer. “Doesn’t matter. We’re not going alone, and we’re not going unarmed.”
“Just the two of us,” I reminded.
“Two of us is enough.”
We made our way down the guesthouse steps and toward the main estate hall where the so-called “diplomatic” dinner was to be held. Ornate chandeliers sparkled overhead like overcompensation. The air was thick with stale pride and perfume.
We passed servants who bowed their heads quickly. Omegas. Most avoided my gaze. Some flinched. That wasn’t normal.
My wolf stirred.
Too submissive. Too afraid.
Something’s wrong here.
We hadn’t even made it halfway down the corridor when we were intercepted.
“Alpha Jasper,” purred a voice like sour honey.
Alice Blackwood.
Twin sister of Lily. Daughters of Jordan and Beth. Ex-Royal lineage still trying to cling to faded glory. Both were dressed to seduce—body-hugging dresses, too much gloss, and enough confidence to drown weaker wolves.
“Marcus,” Lily added with a coquettish smirk, brushing his chest with perfectly manicured fingers. “Still unmated? What a waste.”
He stepped back, uninterested. “Still unoriginal? What a shame.”
Alice slid in close to me, the scent of heavy jasmine clinging to her like a second skin. “This pack would thrive with your strength, Alpha. It’s not too late to form… tighter alliances.”
I stared down at her hand as it brushed my sleeve. “I’m here to negotiate, not to breed.”
Her smile faltered. “We’re not asking for much.”
“I’m not offering anything,” I snapped.
Lily blinked, eyes narrowing.
They backed off with false smiles, l*****g wounds already festering with humiliation.
As we entered the side corridor that led to the dining hall, I caught it.
Roses.
Sweet and sun-warmed, with a whisper of ash beneath. My pulse stilled. My body followed.
That scent—
My wolf exploded inside my chest, clawing, growling, howling.
Mate.
Marcus grabbed my arm. “Jasper?”
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. My wolf was pulling—no, yanking—me down the narrow hallway.
And that’s when we heard it.
A crash.
A scream.
Without thinking, I shoved open the side door to the kitchens.
The scene hit me like a bullet.
Beth stood over a crumpled figure on the floor. One had a pan in her hand, slick with blood. The crimson-haired girl lay unconscious, blood seeping into her white uniform.
“What the hell is going on here?!” I growled, voice low and dangerous.
Beth Blackwood spun around. Her face blanched.
“She started it,” Alice lied quickly. “That Omega is a menace—”
“She’s bleeding,” I snarled, pushing past them to kneel.
Crimson hair.
Porcelain skin.
A face burned into the back of my mind.
She stirred, her lips trembling. Eyes fluttered open—barely.
And then—
“...Romeo…”
The nickname hit me like lightning to the spine.
Only one girl ever called me that.
Only one voice ever made it sound like a promise and a prayer.
April.
She fell limp again.
My wolf roared.
Beth stammered. “Alpha Jasper—”
“You’re lucky she’s still breathing,” I snapped, lifting her into my arms. Her head lolled against my shoulder, bleeding staining my chest. “From this moment on, she’s under my protection.”
“Jasper—” Marcus warned behind me. “Council members are arriving. If she’s theirs—”
“She’s mine.”
I didn’t look back.
I didn’t care if Jordan Redclaw himself tried to stop me.
My mate wasn’t dead.
She was alive.
And bleeding in my arms.
I had to get her to their pack Doctor before she bleeds out or worse.
- Writer
