The words are gentle, tender, but they burst through her walls like a godsdamned battering ram. Because he is not trying to win her. He is simply…there. And that… that is hard to deny. Impossible to ignore.
Jax exhales slowly, her arms loosening at her sides as the tension begins to break.
The anger has always been easier. It gives her something to hold onto that feels like power instead of the hollow ache that sits beneath it. Anger sharpens her, makes her untouchable, turns every interaction into something she can win instead of something she can lose.
It has cost her more than she will ever admit out loud.
Friends.
Family.
Allies.
Whatever it is Ronyn keeps trying to be to her.
She knows it. Feels it every time she lashes out and watches something good fracture under her hands. And still, she reaches for it. Because anger does not ask anything of her. It does not require trust. It does not leave her exposed. It is reliable—always there when she reaches for it. And that certainty is everything to a woman who has felt disposable for so long.
But now? Staring at the unruly chestnut hair, genuine eyes, and sincere lop-sided grin of this man, it does not come when she calls.
Anger does not flare in her chest.
Cruelty does not take root on her tongue.
So all she has left to reach for is neutrality.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she says.
“It doesn’t have to,” he replies smoothly.
He is not disappointed. Not even surprised by her words. Perhaps he expected them to be harsher, more cutting. And that would be fair. But all that stares back at her is a man grateful for whatever she is capable of giving, and that alone threatens to rip down every wall in a heartbeat.
Her gaze lingers on him a moment longer, then she turns and moves toward the furs laid out in the hollow of the cave. It’s not an outright invitation—she would never. But it’s not a refusal either.
Ronyn follows without comment. Too scared, maybe, or just not stupid.
She lowers herself completely onto the blankets, posture rigid, shoulders tight, every instinct still braced as though she is preparing for impact. She stares at the roof of the cave, awkward, too still.
He doesn’t touch her immediately. He settles beside her first, close enough that she can feel the heat of him, but not so close that it traps her. He gives her space to pull away.
She doesn’t. She simply rolls to her side like she’s not completely opposed to being held.
That is all the permission he needs.
Oh gods.
Ronyn shifts behind her slowly, one arm coming around her waist, the contact light at first, testing, giving her time to resist it if she chooses.
She doesn’t.
Because anger may come when she calls, but maybe it lies, too.
His arm settles more fully, anchoring her without holding her in place. Jax stiffens anyway, her breath catching as every instinct sharpens in response to the closeness.
This is where it changes.
This is where it turns.
She knows this part.
