I could see the tension rippling through Jack as my request hung in the air between us, thick with unspoken fears. His brow furrowed, and his hands clenched at his sides, revealing just how anxious he was about the conversation we were having. But I needed to know the truth. If I was going to stay here—sharing a cramped tent with him or finding myself nestled in his modest home—I had to unravel the layers of his past.
“I did destroy those packs,” he finally admitted, his voice steady yet laced with underlying turmoil. “They were attacking us, taking our women and children.”
“Paisley already told me that,” I replied, trying to maintain eye contact as I spoke. “You were trying to protect your pack. But I know there has to be more to this.”
“Paisley is full of it,” he snapped, frustration
