The silence that followed felt suffocating, the weight of his father's gaze unbearable. Jet could feel the fire burning inside him, but he couldn't summon the words to fight back. His father's accusations still stung, each one sinking deeper into his chest. It wasn’t true. None of it was true. But the intensity of the moment left him paralyzed, unable to respond, unable to explain.

His father’s voice broke the silence once more. “You think I don't know what you're doing? You think I’m blind? The whole town is talking, and you—” His words trailed off as he threw his hands up in frustration. “How could you do this? After everything we’ve done for you?”

Jet’s mother took a hesitant step toward him, but the tension in the air was thick enough to cut through. The space between them felt endless. Jet's hands curled into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms.

“You’re not listening,” he finally managed to say, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s just rumours. They’re lies.”

But his father wasn’t having it. His brow furrowed deeper. “I don’t care about your lies. You’re out there with him, a filthy Alpha, and you’re dragging our name through the mud.” He stepped toward Jet, grabbing him by the arm, his grip too tight.

Jet flinched, pulling away from the touch, his chest tightening. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t what he had imagined. His father’s hands weren’t supposed to feel like shackles.

“I can’t do this,” Jet muttered, his voice breaking as the suffocating pressure built. Before he could stop himself, before he could think it through, he bolted from the room and house, ignoring the calls from both his parents.

His heart hammered in his ears, the cold night air hitting him like a slap in the face as he ran. He didn’t care where he was going, just that he needed to get away from that suffocating house, from the weight of their expectations.

His thoughts were a blur, panic rising with every step, until he found himself standing in a forest. The cool breeze whipped through his hair, but the rush of adrenaline kept him grounded. He looked back toward the direction of his house, but the warmth of it now felt so distant, so foreign.

Was this what it was always going to be? Trapped between his own desires and the family that insisted on pushing him into a life he didn’t want?

Jet’s chest tightened again, and he couldn’t breathe. Without thinking, he collapsed to his knees on the snow, burying his face in his hands. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do anymore. His father’s words haunted him, taunting him—filthy Alpha, ruining the family name. The weight of those words felt unbearable, like stones lodged in his chest. 

The moonlight above him was sharp and cold, casting long shadows across the ground. For the first time in days, Jet felt truly alone. Even if his parents didn’t understand, even if they couldn’t see the truth, he had no one else to turn to. His breath hitched as he sat there, waiting for the tears he hadn’t allowed himself to shed to finally spill out.

He had never felt more lost in his entire life.

Jet’s feet carried him, almost instinctively, further into the night, into the dense forest that bordered the village. The trees, tall and imposing, seemed to close in around him as he walked, the rustling of leaves blending with the frantic pounding of his heart. The further he went, the stillness of the night increased, interrupted by the occasional hoot of an owl or the rustle of animals skittering through the underbrush.

He didn’t care where he was going anymore—only that he needed to escape, to breathe. The moonlight barely filtered through the thick canopy above, casting the path ahead in a strange, silvery glow. The forest was both suffocating and liberating, a place where he could be swallowed whole and disappear without anyone noticing.

The cold winter air seeped into Jet’s bones, sharper and more biting with every passing second. He hadn't thought it through when he ran—he hadn't taken his coat, and now the snow falling heavily around him only made things worse. His breath slowed, visible in the air like smoke, his body trembling from the cold as he huddled under a tree, trying to find any trace of warmth.

"Gosh, I'm an idiot," he muttered through chattering teeth. "It's freezing out here."

In the distance, the sounds of the forest echoed— the chirps of crickets  and the hooting of owls. But then, all at once, it stopped. The world around him became unnervingly still.

Jet pulled his legs closer to his chest, a shiver crawling up his spine. The silence weighed on him like a heavy fog, pressing down on him with a suffocating intensity.

Then came the faintest sound, a low growl that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His breath hitched as he noticed the soft crunch of snow underfoot, growing steadily louder.

‘Wolves’, Jet thought, his stomach dropping. He could almost feel their presence, closing in on him from every direction.

A howl ripped through the stillness of the forest, sharp and haunting, sending a chill deeper than the winter air into Jet's chest. The sound of fast, pounding footsteps followed, the wolves closing in on him.

Jet's heart pounded in his ears. He shouted, desperation flooding his voice, "No! Help!"

But then, as suddenly as it had begun, everything went silent. The growls, the crunching paws, the howling—it all stopped at once, leaving only the cold whisper of the wind and the soft fall of snow.

Jet froze, straining to hear anything. The forest felt unnervingly quiet again, but this time, it was more unsettling than before. His breath caught in his throat, eyes scanning the darkened forest, searching for whatever was out there.

Then, from the shadows between the trees, something—someone—stepped forward. Jet’s eyes widened as the figure emerged into the moonlight, the last person he expected to see.

Han.