THE BETA'S SIN

CHAPTER 2

JAKE DAVIS

After a year and a half of intense training, I am finally coming home.

The smell of the road, the sound of the tires against the asphalt, and the feel of the leather steering wheel beneath my fingers are insignificant details compared to the excitement of seeing my family again.

Still wearing my training clothes—a black t-shirt clinging to my sweaty body and a pair of worn-out military pants—I keep one hand steady on the wheel while the other slides over my phone, scrolling through the images my brother, Anthony, posted on social media.

The pictures are of Clara and their son, Thomas, an adorable little boy with light hair and golden eyes, sitting on his father’s lap.

In another, the family poses beside a large Christmas tree, with Clara smiling in a way that makes something tighten in my chest.

I remember that night with her a year and a half ago. The intensity, the desire, and what we shared.

But now… all of that is in the past. What matters is that Anthony is happy. That Clara has moved on. And that I need to find my own path.

The mansion appears ahead, just as imposing as ever.

The gate opens automatically as I approach, and I park the car at the entrance, taking a deep breath before stepping out. With a bag slung over my shoulder, I walk up to the door and knock twice.

The door opens, revealing Clara.

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she seems frozen.

I smirk, teasing.

“Wow, has it been that long?”

She’s still beautiful.

Even after all this time, seeing her stirs something inside me.

The memory of her skin’s touch, the sound of her ragged breathing, the way she gave herself to me that forbidden night.

Clara blinks a few times, as if needing to make sure I’m really here.

Then, a smile spreads across her face, and her eyes light up.

"Jake! You’re back!"

Without thinking twice, she throws herself into my arms.

The hug is tight and strong, and I inhale the sweet scent that has always surrounded her.

I close my eyes for a second, allowing myself to savor this moment, this feeling of home that she awakens in me.

But then, a shout from inside the house makes us pull apart.

"Clara! Who’s there?"

I frown.

Anthony’s tone isn’t just loud—it’s irritated.

I watch as Clara shrinks slightly, her eyes darting toward the inside of the house. She looks uncomfortable. I notice it immediately.

Something is wrong.

Anthony appears in the hallway, his face lighting up when he sees me.

"Jake!" He strides toward me and pulls me into a firm hug.

"Man, it’s been so long! Look at you!"

"Yeah, I’m back, brother."

I smile, but my eyes remain on Clara. I notice the way she lowers her head, as if wanting to disappear.

"I hope it’s not a problem, but I need a place to stay for a few days until I find an apartment. Think I can crash here?" I ask, watching my brother’s reaction.

Anthony claps a friendly hand on my shoulder.

"Of course! You’ll always be welcome here. It’ll be great having you around."

I nod, but something in Anthony’s tone doesn’t completely convince me.

Even so, I step inside the house. The familiar scent fills my senses. But there’s something different in the air. Something I can’t quite define.

Then I see him.

In the middle of the living room, a little boy with light hair and golden eyes plays on the rug.

Small, adorable… and strangely familiar.

Clara approaches the boy and crouches beside him, holding his tiny hand.

"Thomas, this is your Uncle Jake."

I feel my heart race.

I crouch down slowly, trying not to seem threatening, and smile at the little one.

"Hey, little werewolf."

Thomas looks at me curiously, his eyes gleaming with an intense golden hue.

And in that instant, something inside me stirs in a strange way, a kind of connection I can’t explain.

"He has our father’s eyes." Anthony comments proudly.

"He’s already a strong werewolf."

I can’t take my eyes off the child. Something isn’t right. The connection I feel is too strong. Clara looks tense as she watches us.

"I’ll get something to drink." she suddenly says, standing up quickly.

I nod, but my eyes lock onto her arm as she turns.

A dark bruise stands out on her skin.

My gaze narrows.

I turn to Anthony, who is still smiling, talking about how I’ve grown stronger after my training.

But now, I’m not listening. All I see is that mark on Clara’s arm.

"So, how was the training?" Anthony asks, leaning back on the couch.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to look away from what I just saw.

"It was intense. Long hours, strict discipline. But I learned a lot."

"Good. That means you’re ready to take your place in the pack when I die."

I force a smile, but my mind is on Clara.

On how she avoided my gaze. On the way, she lowered her head when Anthony yelled at her. On the bruise.

Something is wrong.

And I’m going to find out what it is.

I watch Anthony walk away down the hallway, his steps heavy.

Something inside me stirs—an instinct I can’t ignore.

I turn to Clara, who is still in the middle of the living room, adjusting the long sleeve of her blouse. The bruise I saw earlier won’t leave my mind.

"Is he hard on you?" I ask, crossing my arms.

She lifts her eyes to me, surprised.

"What do you mean by that?"

I take a step closer and point to her arm.

"Did he hit you?"

Clara opens her mouth but hesitates for a second.

Then, her expression softens, and she lets out a humorless laugh.

"Jake… I fell down the stairs. It’s nothing."

I know that’s not true.

I know her well enough to recognize when she’s lying.

The way she avoids my eyes, the way she presses her fingers together. But I don’t push her. Not yet.

"What happened to him?" I ask.

"Anthony has always been controlling, but now he seems… different."

She exhales a tired sigh and runs a hand over her face.

"He’s stressed. The pack demands a lot from him. The businesses too. He has no time for anything else. He just needs a break."

Something in the way she speaks sounds rehearsed. As if she’s trying to convince herself as much as me.

I cross my arms, feeling my patience thin.

"And do you have an open marriage?"

"We…"

Before she can continue, Anthony reappears at the door.

He watches us for a moment, and I can see a spark of suspicion in his eyes. Clara quickly shifts her attention to him.

"I’m going upstairs to get some rest." I say, cutting the tense atmosphere.

"I’m still tired from the trip."

"Of course, make yourself at home. I’m really happy you’re here, Jake."

Anthony nods and walks away, while Clara watches me for a few more seconds before leaving.

Night falls, bringing with it memories I try to forget.

I’m lying on the bed in the guest room when my mind takes me back to that night, a year ago.

The heat of Clara’s body beneath mine, the way she arched for me, the muffled whispers in my ear.

The way she moaned my name keeps echoing in my head.

I remember every detail. Her scent, the taste of her skin, the way she looked at me with both desire and confusion.

I wake up breathless, my heart pounding fast.

I dreamed of her again—just like almost every night for the past year and a half.

My skin is hot, and my mind is filled with thoughts I shouldn’t have. But I can’t help it.

I feel something for her.

But she is still my brother’s wife.

The next morning, I head downstairs to the living room and see Thomas playing on the rug.

His small body moves with energy, his light curls falling over his forehead. I crouch beside him and smile.

"Good morning, champ."

Thomas giggles and lifts his little arms toward me.

My heart warms. I pick him up, playing with him, when something catches my attention.

Under his tiny arm there’s a peculiar birthmark. A shape I know all too well.

Because I have the same mark.

My muscles are tense. My gaze locks onto it, and then something clicks in my mind.

Anthony doesn’t have this.

My chest tightens. Is this possible?

Before I can think further, Clara enters the room.

She sees my expression, and for a moment, she freezes.

Then, she quickly composes herself and smiles, taking Thomas from my arms.

"Let’s have breakfast, sweetheart." she tells him, avoiding my eyes.

I watch her walk away with Thomas in her arms.

Clara is hiding something.

Days pass, and my suspicion only grows.

Clara is not happy. I see it in her empty gaze, in the way she avoids Anthony, in the way her voice loses its spark when she talks about the future.

And Anthony… he’s not the brother I once knew. His patience with Clara is thin, his tone always laced with irritation. I notice the small tensions. The moments when he grips her arm too tightly, when he speaks with a threatening edge, even while smiling.

It’s late at night when I leave my room and quietly head downstairs.

The sound of hushed voices reaches me. I hide behind one of the columns and see Anthony gripping Clara’s arm, his fingers digging into her skin as he hisses something.

"You disobeyed me. I have no more patience for these little stunts of yours, Clara!" he growls.

Clara tries to pull away, but he holds her tight.

"Anthony, you’re hurting me..."

My body moves on its own.

"Everything okay here? I think you heard her perfectly, Anthony. You’re hurting her."

Anthony freezes and turns to me, his expression darkening.

He looks at Clara, then releases her as if nothing happened.

"Stay out of this, Jake. This is between me and my wife."

"Sure, but don’t hurt her again."

Clara lowers her head and quickly walks away, disappearing down the hallway. Anthony stares at me for a moment longer before storming off in another direction.

I feel my blood boiling in my veins.

He’s my older brother, but I can’t stand by and watch him hurt the woman I love.

After Anthony and Thomas are asleep, I find Clara in the kitchen. She’s sitting at the table, holding a glass of wine. I walk closer and pull out a chair beside her.

“Well, I hope my presence isn’t bothering you. After so many sleepless nights during training, it’s hard to get back to normal sleep.”

She smiles at me, her eyes shining before she bites her lip.

“Actually, I’d love some company.”

She hands me a glass and fills it with wine. I sigh at the first sip.

She looks lost in thought, and then my voice makes her glance at me, confused.

"Has he always been like this with you?"

She exhales, pouring more wine into her glass.

"I don’t want to talk about it."

"You need to leave, Clara. This isn’t a life."

She laughs bitterly.

"And where would I go, Jake? Thomas is his son. He would never let me leave."

Something in her eyes tells me there’s more to it. And I know there is.

So, without thinking, I ask:

"What about that night?"

Clara freezes.

Her eyes meet mine, filled with conflicting emotions. She doesn’t need to ask which night. She knows exactly what I’m talking about.

She smiles, almost nostalgically.

"It was a mistake, Jake."

"It didn’t feel like a mistake."

She swallows hard and looks at her glass of wine.

The tension in the air is thick. Silence surrounds us, and then, as if an invisible force pulls us together, our faces draw closer.

"I should go back to bed…" she whispers, standing up, but I step forward, grabbing her wrist.

She looks at me, and I see tears in her eyes.

"Why do you keep avoiding me, Clara?"

"I’m not avoiding you."

"Yes, you are. You can’t even look me in the eyes."

She closes her eyes, and when she opens them, I see determination in them.

"That night should never have happened, but it did, and it was amazing. But nothing like that can ever happen again," she whispers, and I move closer.

"Why?"

"Because I’m married, and you’re my husband’s brother."

"That didn’t stop that night from happening."

"I know, and that’s why I’m saying it can’t happen again."

"Clara, look at me..." I cup her face, and her gaze flickers to my lips.

"I felt something for you that night. I missed you when you left, and I thought I’d never see you again." she admits, closing her eyes when I brush my fingers over her lips.

"This is so forbidden, Jake…"

"I know..."

And then our lips meet, and she doesn’t pull away.

The kiss is intense, filled with repressed feelings and desires kept hidden for too long.

My hands slide down her waist, pulling her closer.

The taste of wine mixed with the heat of her body makes me crave more. She kisses me back, her breath uneven, her fingers clutching my shirt.

But then, suddenly, she pulls away, gasping for air.

"We can’t."

I close my eyes, trying to steady my breath.

"Clara..."

She stands up, grabbing her wine glass and stepping back.

"I’m your brother’s wife. I’m his mate, Jake."

And then, she walks out of the kitchen, leaving me there alone, with a bitter taste in my mouth and a truth I can no longer ignore.

She doesn’t love Anthony anymore.

And Thomas… he might be my son.