Jack
1320 Words
Instead, he stepped back, giving me space—but somehow, I felt even more exposed. Like he’d just peeled back a layer of my life I didn’t know was there.
“You need to leave,” he said quietly, his voice lower now, rough—like gravel soaked in heat.
“Get her home. Stay there. Lock your door. Don’t worry about the groceries. Leave them.”
I swallowed hard. “What? Why?” My voice came out more breath than sound. Every nerve in my body lit up. Something about him made my instincts scream—run, fight, stay, all at once. I didn’t know if I was afraid of him… or dangerously drawn to him.
Jack didn’t reply.
He just stood there—still, steady, watching me—with that look that made it hard to breathe. Like he knew every secret I hadn’t told. Like he’d already touched me in a dream I couldn’t quite remember
He simply moved aside, eyes never leaving Scarlett.
I don’t know why I listened. I don’t know why I trusted him. But I did. Something about the way those other two men—ones I hadn’t even noticed walking in—glared at me as I passed told me Jack had seen something I hadn’t.
And maybe… saved me from it.
The store clerk, usually so warm, stood frozen behind the register. He looked away quickly when our eyes met. That had to be why he didn’t speak earlier. He knew something was off.
I rushed home as fast as my aching legs could carry me. Every step felt like a hundred pounds. When I finally made it through the front door, I slammed it shut, locked it twice, and leaned back against it, heart pounding.
I looked down at Scarlett.
Still smiling.
Still babbling.
Completely unaware that something had just shifted in our world—and I didn’t know what it was yet.
But Jack Blackwood did.
Jack didn’t go back to the apartment he was staying in for work. He could have gone anywhere else.
He should’ve. He had other places to be. Things to handle.
But instead, he stayed hidden in the alley across from Molly’s building, leaned against the cold brick like a ghost. His hands still bore dried blood—knuckles scraped raw from the two men he’d left groaning in a back room. They wouldn’t be walking right for weeks. Humans always underestimated how fast he could move. How quiet. How ruthless. He would heal soon enough though.
He hadn’t done it for the store clerk. Usually he didn’t meddle in human affairs.
He’d done it because when he caught scent of Scarlett—and then saw the groceries and diapers in Molly’s hand—his instincts screamed mine.
Not in a possessive way.
Not yet.
But in the way a predator marks a threat… or a treasure.
He had gone back and bought her groceries.
All of them—and then some.
He tripled everything she’d left behind. Diapers, wipes, formula, baby food, milk. Added more. Essentials for her too, she’d probably go without before asking for help. Things he remembered packs storing for pups when winter hit. He knew what it meant to be prepared. To protect.
From the look of her waitress uniform—tired and faded, with the stitching at the hem starting to come undone—he could tell Molly wasn’t doing this for show. And her daughter, Scarlett, wore a hand-me-down outfit, stretched just a little too tight, one too big sock slipping off her tiny foot.
Jack had seen enough women clawing their way through the world alone to know what survival looked like.
But she wasn’t just surviving. She was trying.
And that did something to him. It’s also why he stuck what he had for one hundred dollar bills in his wallet inside a card for her. A blank one, but he decided it would be too weird to write anything. Nothing like saying I’m a werewolf, let me mark you then breed you. Yeah no, that would be awful. He wasn’t a creep.
Most people he’d met in life—wolves included—would’ve crumbled under the pressure she carried. Yet there she was, singing to her baby, pretending to not be so exhausted she could drop. Singing and dancing around a cracked kitchen floor like she still believed in joy. Like her love alone was enough to shield her daughter from the world.
But it wasn’t.
Not anymore.
Scarlett wasn’t just a child. She was half-wolf, and her scent was only going to get stronger. That meant danger—real, wild, ancient danger that Molly had no idea was already circling.
The reason he was staying on this shitty side of town to begin with. It wasn’t safe. He needed to find answers.
So Jack bought the groceries.
Not because he pitied her.
Because he and his wolf needed to.
Because even though she didn’t know it yet, Molly Clark was now standing on the edge of a world she couldn’t see—and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull her back.
or walk into it the fire with her hand in hand with her by his side.
He scaled the fire escape three buildings over and crouched low, eyes tracking the soft yellow glow of Molly’s window. The curtains were thin. The light spilled out like warmth into the dark.
She moved inside the small kitchen like she’d never been touched by fear. Barefoot, swaying to music from her phone, her hips shifted as she stirred something on the stove. It wasn’t seductive—it was unintentional. Natural. Soft. Honest.
But God, it stirred something in him.
Scarlett sat in a high chair nearby, babbling between fits of laughter. Molly turned, tossed a dish towel over her shoulder, and started to sing—badly. Jack smirked despite himself. Off-key, off-beat, and utterly carefree. She danced across the cracked linoleum like it was a ballroom, twirling once, then bending dramatically to place something on Scarlett’s tray.
That smile—when her daughter laughed—it made Jack forget to breathe.
This woman was raising a half-wolf alone. Human. Untrained. Vulnerable.
And beautiful in a way he didn’t know how to process.
There was no makeup on her face, no practiced movements. Just that energy. That warmth. Her body moved like she felt everything, even when she didn’t say it. And those eyes—when she looked down at her child—were so full of fire and protection it made his chest tighten.
He wondered, briefly, what her laugh would sound like tangled in his sheets.
He growled quietly at himself, jaw tightening. No. She was human. And more than that—she was untouched by his world. Dragging her into it, especially now, would be cruel.
But fate had a twisted sense of humor.
He could feel it already.
Scarlett’s scent was growing stronger. Her shift—if it came early—would be dangerous. She needed guidance. Protection. A pack.
And Molly… she had no idea what lived in her daughter’s blood.
Nor any idea what her body did to someone like him. He would have to use every bit of self control he had. Other wise he would scoop her up and ravish her in the kitchen.
He stood, eyes still fixed on the window. She moved again—stretching to grab something from the top cabinet. Her shirt rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of soft skin at her waist.
Jack clenched his fists, fighting the instinct that roared beneath his skin.
Not yet.
She wasn’t ready.
But one thing was becoming painfully clear:
She would be his problem… one way or another.
And maybe—if she looked at him the way she danced around that kitchen—he’d stop pretending it wasn’t exactly what he wanted.
- Writer
