His Human Mate

6.

Jack's POV

She was still now.

Curled beneath the blanket like a ghost trying to forget it had ever been alive. Her breathing came in shallow bursts, but the color had started to return to her face. The welts from the bats would scar for a while, but she’d live.

For now.

I leaned against the doorframe, the cold night wind brushing over my bare skin. I didn’t feel it—not really. I was too wired. Too angry. Too… unsettled.

The storm had passed, but the air still carried its weight.

The scent of blood clung to the cottage like an unwelcome guest—sharp, metallic, and far too human. I’d washed her wounds, wrapped her arms in clean gauze, and tucked her into the bed that wasn’t supposed to be hers. She whimpered even in sleep, lips trembling, body flinching at every sound, like even rest refused to offer peace.

I sat at the edge of the couch now, elbows resting on my knees, eyes not leaving the faint rise and fall of her chest across the room.

Jennifer.

The girl with the broken soul. The girl who ran from monsters, only to stumble straight into the den of wolves.

I stood, needing air more than I needed answers, and stepped out through the front door. The night was quieter now, the sky bruised with clouds that moved slow and heavy, as if mourning something I hadn’t named yet. The woods were still. Watching. Waiting.

I looked out toward the dark woods, the trees motionless, watching like they’d seen it all before.

And maybe they had.

“I know why they attacked her,” I said into the silence, jaw tight. “Because she’s human.”

Because she crossed the line.

This forest wasn’t just remote. It wasn’t just wild. It was territory. Werewolf territory. A place where creatures like us still followed the old laws, where the moon ruled and blood was remembered.

Humans didn’t come here.

Not unless they had a death wish.

Not unless someone let them in.

And I had.

She had stepped into the Hollow under my roof, under my protection. I told myself it was just for one night. Just a favor to someone broken and alone. But deep down, I knew better. I felt it the moment she looked at me with those wide, haunted eyes.

I’d already made my choice.

I took her in.

And I never told her what I was.

That I was a wolf.

That I was the former Alpha of the Rhyden Pack—a title I’d walked away from, leaving it in my brother Laim’s hands. He wore it now. He ruled what I left behind. And I thought I was free of it. Of the responsibility. Of the burden.

But no one ever really walks away from being Alpha.

Not when the blood still remembers.

And when I heard her leave tonight—bare feet padding quietly across the floor, heart thudding like a trapped bird—I didn’t hesitate. I followed. Not because I wanted to control her.

I was supposed to let her go.

That was the plan from the beginning. One night. Just one night. A safe place to rest, a warm meal, a roof overhead.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

When I’d heard her footsteps in the night, something primal in me snapped. My hearing—sharper than any human’s—caught every breath, every rustle of fabric. And when she opened that door and slipped out like a shadow, I knew.

I felt it.

She was leaving.

And I followed.

But because something inside me snapped at the thought of her being alone out there.

Then the bats came.

And she screamed.

She didn’t know what they were. Just creatures of the night to her—claws, wings, teeth. But I knew. They were sentinels of the border. Guardians of the sacred line.

She didn’t mean to break the law. She didn’t know what rules existed out here. But the Hollow didn’t care. The magic didn’t care.

They would’ve killed her.

Until I stopped them.

I clenched my jaw and looked up at the moon, half-covered in clouds, pale and watching.

She didn’t belong here.

But neither did I, anymore.

So what the hell were we doing?

I turned back toward the house. Toward her.

She murmured in her sleep, brow furrowed in pain even now. I should’ve let her go. Should’ve walked away when I had the chance.

But I didn’t.

And now I wasn’t sure I could.

Not when everything inside me warned what this might mean.

She was human.

I was a wolf.

And this—whatever the hell this was between us—it was already far more dangerous than she knew.

And it was too late to stop.