Page 81 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

I waited.

“He’s chosen a wife for me,” he said, voice flat. “An arranged marriage. He already started the negotiations without telling me. Showed up with a whole folder — photographs, background, everything.”

My stomach twisted, but I kept my voice even. “Who is she?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It might matter to her.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Selene. From a pack two states over. He says it’s strategic. Claims he’s been planning it for over a year.”

“And you told him?”

“I told him no.”

“How did he react?”

“He didn’t, not really.” Jackson looked away for a moment. “Just told me to think about it and started listing everything that was supposedly on the table. He doesn’t take no very well.”

We walked in silence for a few steps. Of course Thomas was behind this — the same man who destroyed my family was now trying to control Jackson’s future too.

“Does he do this often?” I asked.

“More than you’d think.” His voice was tired. “He’s been steering my life since I was a kid. Made me drop hockey when I was twelve because it wasn’t ‘useful.’ Ended a friendship with a human boy the year after because he didn’t like the influence. Chose my classes, my training, who I was allowed to be seen with. He wants the next alpha shaped exactly the way he sees fit. This marriage is just the next move.”

I glanced up at him. “And you’ve let him?”

“For a long time, yes.” He let out a weary breath. “I learned early that fighting him on everything was pointless. So I started picking my battles. I saved my strength for the ones that actually matter.”

“This matters.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “It does.”

I thought about telling him everything. About Thomas, about my past, about why this hit so hard. But I held back. Not tonight.

We continued toward the house in silence, his solid warmth pressed against my side. The trees gradually thinned until the porch light cut through the darkness ahead of us.

He stopped me on the steps. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

The question hung between us, soft but real. My cat perked up instantly, hopeful. This would be the first night I let someone share my space, the first time I slept beside a man, truly vulnerable and close.

I thought about it, then nodded.

His relief was subtle but unmistakable. He squeezed my hand once, then let go.

“I’ll grab my bag,” he said, handing me the yarn ball before heading toward his car.

I stood on the steps with the ridiculous yarn ball in my arms and watched him cross the yard. A moment later he came back with an overnight bag already slung over his shoulder.

I raised a brow. “You came prepared.”

He gave a small, almost sheepish smile. “Just hopeful.”

Inside, the kitchen lights were on. Mira and Talia were at the counter, eating noodles straight from the pot. The second we walked in, both of them looked up — and then froze completely.

Mira slowly set her fork down. Talia blinked once. Then again, like she needed a second look to believe it.

Jackson glanced at me, mildly concerned. “Why are they looking at me like that?”