Chapter 3: Confessions in the Crosshairs

I missed.

My fist sailed past his cheek, the momentum carrying me off-balance. His grip gentle but unyielding.

That lingering pleasure killed all my speed and power.

I was still reeling, my body betraying me at every turn. Furious and humiliated.

He caught my fist easy. Like it was nothing.

His reflexes were lightning-quick, as always. Like I was a kid throwing a tantrum.

Chase’s big hand wrapped around mine, his thumb rubbing between my fingers with a tenderness that felt almost intimate.

The touch was electric—too soft, too knowing. Hungry for comfort I’d never admit to needing.

“Turning on me already? You were just begging for help.”

His voice was rough, his face relaxed with a hint of smugness. I glared at him, but he just smiled, infuriatingly calm. Right now, Chase looked dangerously good.

He looked like every bad decision I’d ever made, wrapped up in a crisp uniform and a devil-may-care grin. The kind you want to chase, even though you know better.

His crisp uniform was a mess from our earlier fight. The jacket was half-off, shirt untucked, tie loose, hair falling over his forehead.

A button at his collar had popped, and from this angle, I could see his Adam’s apple—half-exposed, sliding as he swallowed.

The sight sent a jolt through me. The heat in his eyes, the strength in his hands. I forced myself to look away.

He lowered his eyes, looking at me quietly. The kind of gaze that could ruin a man.

If I were a woman, I’d probably be dizzy by now. Hell, I was halfway there.

But I’m not.

I reminded myself, clinging to that fact like a shield. I wasn’t going to let biology rewrite who I was.

Even if I did shift into an omega, I wouldn’t fall for this. No way.

No way. Not after everything.

Annoyed, my words came out cold as ice, hoping it would drown out the fear and confusion roiling inside me.

“I told you to get me the inhibitor!”

My voice echoed across the empty field, sharp and accusing. But he just smiled wider.

He didn’t look the least bit hurt—instead, he burst out laughing. Loud and reckless, bouncing off the mountains.

“Aren’t I better than an inhibitor?”

His words were a joke, but I could feel the challenge in them. My hands shook.

“I’m your brother! You actually bit me? You want the MPs to break your legs, or what?”

Jackson suddenly went quiet. His jaw tensed, and there was a dangerous silence about him that made me frown.

He looked away, eyes narrowing. The playful edge was gone, replaced by something darker—waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Dad’s already retired,” he said after a moment.

His voice was flat, almost bored. But there was something simmering under the surface.

I let out a shaky breath and shot back:

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I squared my shoulders, trying to sound braver than I felt. But I refused to let him see.

He curled his lips, and there was a kind of wildness in his eyes that made me uneasy.

He looked at me like a wolf sizing up a meal. God help me—a little thrilling.

“Means I’m the top dog in the family now. I can do whatever I want.”

He said it with a shrug, like it was no big deal. He was off the leash.

“You’re insane!”

“Yeah! I’ve wanted you for years, and you never noticed. You know what that’s like? You drove me nuts!” His words hit hard. My stomach twisted.

His confession hit me like a punch to the gut. All these years, and I never had a clue.

What?

The word echoed in my head. I couldn’t make sense of it. Jackson—wanting me? It was absurd.

Jackson said he’s wanted me for years? Seriously?

I honestly had no clue.

I replayed every moment, every fight, every awkward silence. Or was he just rewriting history to suit himself?

But that’s his excuse for acting like this? Ridiculous!

Anger flared, burning away the confusion. I wasn’t about to let him justify this with some half-baked sob story.

“Don’t pin this on me! I never did anything to you—this is all in your head!”

I spat the words at him, daring him to deny it. Ready for a fight.

Jackson stared at me, silent. His hand, still gripping my fist, twisted and locked around my wrist.

His grip was bruising, but I refused to back down. Daring him to try something.

He’s stupid strong.

I’d forgotten just how strong he was. Maybe something darker.

I couldn’t break free, and I scowled.

The frustration boiled over. I wanted to scream, to hit him, to run. But all I could do was glare.

“What do you want? Let go!”

The words came out ragged, half-plea, half-command. I hated how desperate I sounded.

He ignored me. His face darkened as he pulled me against his chest, holding me tight.

His arms were like iron bands, unbreakable. The steady thump of his heart.

A newly shifted body is crazy sensitive. No kidding.

Every touch was amplified, every breath a struggle. My body betrayed me, leaning in instead.

My wrist tingled like I’d grabbed a live wire, and his S-tier alpha presence surrounded me. Impossible to fight, overwhelming and all-consuming.

Because of the mark, my body craved this dominance. I bit my lip, trying to hold back a whimper.

Jackson barely had to try, and I was already melting into his arms. I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t help it.

His heartbeat thumped right by my ear—steady, powerful. Now, it felt like a promise—and a threat.

“...Is this really omega willpower?”