Unveiling Jaxon's Scars

The phone rang twice before Lyra's familiar voice answered, sounding breathless. "Hello?"

"Lyr, it's me," I said, relief washing over me at the sound of her voice.

There was a moment of shocked silence before she squealed so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear.

"HAZEL! Oh my god, you're awake! You're actually talking! Are you okay? How are you feeling? I've been so worried!" The words tumbled out in a rush.

"I'm okay," I assured her, smiling despite everything. "Just woke up today. It's been... a lot to process."

"I can't believe they wouldn't let me see you," she said, her voice dropping. "Mr. Vance was so strict about it. I tried sneaking in twice but got caught both times."

I shot a pointed look at the guys, who at least had the decency to look guilty.

"Listen," Lyra continued, her tone shifting to something more serious. "Where are you right now? Are you alone?"

"I'm at Rhys's parents' house. And no, I'm with Rhys and Silas."

"What about Jaxon?" she asked, a strange edge to her voice.

I hesitated. "He's... around. In wolf form, I think. Patrolling or something."

Lyra exhaled heavily. "Hazel, I'm so worried about him. He's completely broken. He barely speaks to anyone, even me."

Her words sent a cold sensation down my spine. "What do you mean, broken?"

"He thinks it's his fault you almost died," she said quietly. "He blames himself entirely. And being separated from you while you were healing... it's like he's been hollowed out. The only time he showed any signs of life was when he was with you or fighting with Mr. Vance."

I sank onto the bed, acutely aware of Rhys and Silas watching me intently. "Why would he blame himself? It wasn't his fault."

"Try telling him that," Lyra scoffed. Then she lowered her voice. "Wait, are Rhys and Silas right there with you?"

"Yes..."

"Can they hear me?"

"Not unless I put you on speaker."

There was a brief pause. "Hazel, they need to know about Jaxon. Everything I told you before your heat. It might help them understand why he's..." she trailed off. "Just... Jaxon can't know I told anyone. He'd never forgive me."

I glanced at Rhys, whose expression had grown increasingly tense. His eyes were fixed on me, silently demanding to know what Lyra was saying.

"Okay," I agreed. "But Lyr, are you alright? You sound... off."

She laughed nervously. "I'm mid-heat actually. The boys are giving me a little breather, but I should probably go soon. Just... take care of him, okay? And yourself. And call me tomorrow—I want to know everything."

"I will," I promised. "And Lyr? Thank you for trying to visit me."

"Always," she said warmly. "You're my best friend, remember? Oh! Gotta go—Gideon's back with the chocolate sauce and he looks hungry. Love you!"

The call ended abruptly, leaving me holding Silas's phone and facing two very expectant bonds.

"What did she say?" Rhys demanded immediately, his usual easygoing demeanor completely gone.

I set the phone down carefully. "She's worried about Jaxon. Says he's... broken. Blaming himself for what happened to me."

Rhys stepped closer, his eyes intense. "What else? What was she talking about—the thing she told you before your heat?"

I looked to Silas, who seemed equally curious but less aggressive about it.

"I think you two should talk," Silas said gently. "I can keep watch and make sure no one interrupts you." He glanced meaningfully at the door, suggesting Jaxon or Ronan might return.

Rhys nodded sharply. "The ensuite. We can talk there."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bathroom. Silas touched my shoulder reassuringly as I passed.

"I'll let you know if anyone's coming," he promised.

Once inside the bathroom, Rhys turned on the shower to mask our conversation. The space felt too small suddenly, with his tall frame taking up most of it. His face was set in hard lines I rarely saw on him.

"Tell me what you know about Jaxon," he demanded, his voice low but intense. "Everything."

I hugged a pillow I'd instinctively grabbed on the way in. "I only found out myself right before my heat. Lyra made me swear not to tell anyone."

"I don't care," Rhys said bluntly. "This is Jaxon we're talking about. If something's wrong—if there's something I should know—"

"Okay," I conceded, seeing the genuine concern behind his frustration. "But you can't let on that you know. Lyra said he'd never forgive her."

Rhys nodded impatiently.

I took a deep breath. "When Jaxon was seventeen, he disappeared for three months. No one knew where he was. The Academy searched everywhere, but it was like he'd vanished."

Rhys's expression darkened. "I remember. I was fifteen. The whole school was in lockdown for weeks."

"When they finally found him," I continued, my voice dropping, "he was different. Before, Lyra said he was actually happy—laughed a lot, played sports, had friends. But after... he wouldn't talk about where he'd been or what had happened."

Rhys leaned against the sink, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge. "They said he had an accident. That he'd been injured and was recovering."

I shook my head. "That's not what happened. Lyra thinks..." I hesitated, the words feeling ugly in my mouth. "She thinks he was taken by Victor. His father."

All the color drained from Rhys's face. "What?"

"Victor was supposed to be dead, right? But Lyra said Jaxon started having these nightmares after he came back. She'd hear him screaming about his father, begging him to stop."

Rhys pushed off from the sink, pacing the small bathroom. "Stop what?"

"She doesn't know exactly," I said quietly. "But when he came back, his body was... she said he was covered in scars. Hundreds of them. Old ones, new ones. And he refused to let the healers fix them, even though they could have. Said he needed to keep them."

Rhys stopped moving, his back to me. I could see the rigid set of his shoulders, the tension radiating from him.

"There's more," I continued, feeling worse with each word. "Something happened the day they found him. Lyra doesn't know all the details, but apparently six guards were securing the area when they discovered him. Three of them didn't make it out alive."

Rhys turned slowly, his expression stricken. "You mean—"

"Jaxon killed them," I confirmed. "Or that's what the rumors said. Lyra thinks that's why Mr. Vance has always kept such a close eye on him. Not just because of his power, but because of what happened that day."

"Why wouldn't he tell me?" Rhys asked, more to himself than to me. "All these years, and he never said a word."

"Lyra said there's a scar on his back, different from the others. Some kind of symbol or mark. She only saw it once, but it terrified her."

Rhys sank down to sit on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands. "And you think Victor did this to him? For three months?"

"That's what Lyra believes," I said softly, sitting beside him. "And now Victor's back, working with Magnus Sterling. No wonder Jaxon's been so... broken."

We sat in silence for a long moment, the sound of the running shower the only thing filling the space between us.

"I've known him for years," Rhys finally said, his voice hollow. "I thought I knew everything about him. How could I not have seen this?"

"Because he didn't want you to," I answered simply. "Lyra said he became obsessed with being strong, with never showing weakness. He worked out constantly, trained harder than anyone. Like he was preparing for something."

"Or someone," Rhys murmured. "Victor."

I nodded. "That's why I didn't tell you before. I didn't want to betray Jaxon's trust when I barely knew him. But now..."

"Now we need to help him," Rhys finished, determination replacing the shock in his eyes. "He can't face Victor alone."

"No," I agreed. "Not alone."

Rhys looked at me with newfound respect. "Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn't easy."

"Just don't let him know where you heard it," I warned. "Let him tell you himself when he's ready."

Rhys nodded, then reached out to turn off the shower. As the water ceased, the silence felt heavy with everything we'd just discussed. Jaxon's scars—both visible and hidden—were finally exposed, at least to us. The question now was what we were going to do about them.