The Pact Of Five

THE TOUCH THAT BREAKS

CHAPTER 3

Timeline: 28 Days Until 18

“Come here.”

Jax’s voice curled through the humid evening air, low and rough and threaded through with a challenge I couldn’t ignore. I stood at the edge of the pool, water still dripping down my legs, towel still in his hand where he’d snatched it the second I hauled myself out of the water. The sun was bleeding pink and gold over the treetops, and the air had turned thick and warm, smelling of jasmine and damp earth and him—leather, smoke, something wild and sharp underneath.

“Give it to me, Jax.” I took one step forward, bare feet cool on the stone patio. “I’m freezing.”

“Then come get it.” He leaned back against the railing, arms crossed, towel draped loose in one hand, that lazy, dangerous smile playing on his lips. Tattoos crawled up his forearms and disappeared under the collar of his shirt—wolves, thorns, patterns I’d never bothered to look at close enough before. Now I couldn’t look away.

I sighed and kept walking. When I reached for the towel, he pulled it back—and his hand settled on my waist.

Warm. Heavy. Burning straight through the thin fabric of my swimsuit like it wasn’t even there. His fingers splayed wide, pressing into my skin, his thumb brushing the curve of my hip once, slow and deliberate. My breath locked up in my throat. Every muscle in my body went tight, every nerve ending screaming so loud I was sure he could hear it. The world narrowed down to that one spot—his hand on me, hot and solid and claiming.

“Jax,” I breathed. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” He leaned in, his face close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. “It’s just a touch. Doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s not like I’m kissing you. Not like I’m doing all the things I think about when I look at you.”

“It means something.” My voice shook. “You know it does.”

Before I could say another word, a hand closed around his wrist—not hard, but with enough quiet strength to make Jax freeze. Zane stepped between us, his face like stone, eyes dark and furious, his whole body radiating a tense, vibrating stillness that made the hair on my arms stand up.

“Pact,” Zane said, quiet but deadly. “Remember?”

Jax didn’t pull away right away. He looked from Zane to me, frustration blazing hot in his eyes, his hand still heavy on my waist. “You think any of us can make it four weeks? You think this—” he gestured between us, sharp and angry “—just goes away if we pretend it doesn’t exist? You think I can stand here and watch her and not want to touch her? You’re a fool if you believe that.”

“The pact keeps us from ruining her.” Zane’s grip tightened, just a little. “It keeps us from turning into something she fears instead of something she wants. Walk away. Before you lose your place. Before you lose all of us.”

Jax cursed under his breath—a sharp, savage sound—and finally pulled his hand free. He snatched the towel from the railing and threw it hard around my shoulders, his fingers brushing my collarbone as he did, like he couldn’t stop himself from one last touch. “Dry off. Before one of the others does it for you. Before one of them doesn’t care about the rules anymore.” He turned and stormed off toward the trees, boots crunching loud on the fallen leaves, leaving a trail of crushed grass in his wake.

Zane didn’t speak until Jax was gone. He stood there for a long moment, shoulders rising and falling like he was fighting for control, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. When he finally looked at me, the anger was still there, but it was mixed with something else—something softer, something scared, something that made my chest ache.

“He doesn’t mean to be cruel,” Zane said, his voice rough like he was forcing the words out. “He just… can’t help himself. He feels everything too loud. Too hard.”

“And you can?” I wrapped the towel tighter around myself, though it wasn’t the cold making me shiver. “You can stand there and watch and not feel it too?”

He took a step closer, and the air shifted again, thick and charged. “God, no. I’m worse than he is. That’s why I have to be careful. Every time I’m near you, all I want to do is touch you. Hold you. Pull you close and never let anyone else near you. Every time you speak, I want to listen. Every time you smile, it feels like something breaking open inside my chest. And I can’t. Not yet. If I start, I won’t stop. And then I’m out. And I can’t leave you. Not now. Not ever.”

He reached out, hesitated, his hand hovering in the air between us like he was afraid to let it land. Then he tucked a wet strand of hair behind my ear—his fingers brushing my skin so gently it made my eyes burn. “Twenty-eight days. And every day is going to be harder than the last. Stay away from us. Especially at night. We’re not always in control. Not when it comes to you.”

“Are you warning me… or warning yourself?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“Both.” He pulled his hand back like he’d been burned, his knuckles white where he gripped his own forearm. “Go inside. Lock your door. Don’t open it for anyone until morning. Please.”

I walked back to the house slowly, my skin still burning where Jax had touched me, where Zane had brushed my hair, my mind spinning too fast to catch hold of any one thought. They were all dangerous. All of them fighting a battle I couldn’t see, couldn’t understand, couldn’t help them with. They said they were protecting me, but every time they looked at me, every time they spoke, it felt like I was the one who could break them.

When I got to my room, I locked the door—twice—and leaned against it, my heart thudding hard and fast against my ribs. I slid down until I was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, and thought about the note. We are counting. I thought about Jax’s hand on my waist, hot and claiming. I thought about Zane’s voice, low and desperate, telling me to stay away. And I thought about Knox, standing in the middle of the room, like he owned the whole world—and me along with it.

I pushed myself up and walked to the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to see out. The yard was dark now, shadows stretching long across the grass. Zane was still standing by the pool, exactly where I’d left him. He wasn’t moving. Just watching the house. Watching my window.

And then I saw him—Micah, stepping out from behind the big oak tree near the porch, his arms crossed over his chest, his pale eyes glowing faintly in the low light. He said something to Zane, too quiet to hear, and Zane nodded. Micah shifted his weight, his gaze drifting up—straight to my window.

I froze. He knew I was there. He’d known the whole time.

Micah lifted one hand, slow and deliberate, and tapped three times against his own chest. Then he pointed up at me.

We are counting.

I stepped back fast, letting the curtain fall shut, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. They weren’t just visiting. They weren’t just waiting. They were guarding the house. Guarding me. But from what? And who gave them the right to stand outside my window in the dark, watching me like I was already theirs?

I backed away from the window until my legs hit the bed, and I sat down, the silence of the room pressing in on me. The pact was supposed to keep me safe. It was supposed to keep them away until I was old enough to choose. But as I sat there in the dark, knowing they were right outside, counting down the seconds until the clock ran out, I realized the truth. The pact wasn’t keeping them from me. It was making them hungry. And every day that passed, every touch they had to hold back, was only making them want me more.