Lunar Legacy: Rise Of The Beastlord-Chapter 283: Grief

Jayden arrived home at midnight, entered the house quietly, and made his way to his room without a sound.

Once in his room, he took off his clothes and stepped into the shower, cranking the water to a scalding hot temperature, letting it pound against his skin like a punishment.

The hot water cascaded over Jayden’s body, filling the small bathroom with steam until it felt like standing in a cloud. He stood motionless under the spray, his hands braced against the tile wall, head bowed as the water rushed over his silver hair and down his back.

His body had almost completely healed by now. The burns were gone, reduced to faint pink marks that would disappear by morning. The broken bones had set themselves properly, and the deep lacerations had sealed without leaving any scars. This was one of the advantages of his Lycan physiology—he could heal from almost anything given enough time.

But it wasn’t the physical wounds that troubled him. It was the deep, aching pain of knowing he had achieved something yet felt like he had failed at the same time.

Jayden’s hands slowly clenched into fists against the tile, his knuckles white with tension.

The Ancient Sabertooth Flare had died, only to resurrect stronger—some kind of evolutionary bullshit he hadn’t anticipated. And to make things worse, even after killing the beast again, he couldn’t absorb its genes.

And then there was Fred. The EVA agent had seen everything—his Lycan form, the raw beast unleashed. If word got out...

"Dammit," Jayden’s jaw tightened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Anger simmered, mixing with a rare undercurrent of depression. He wasn’t used to feeling this exposed, this vulnerable.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally shut off the water with more force than necessary. The sudden silence was jarring.

Stepping out of the shower, Jayden grabbed a towel and dried off mechanically, his mind still churning through scenarios and contingencies. He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door, stepping into his bedroom.

The cool air of his room was a relief after the suffocating heat of the shower. He moved toward his dresser, intending to get dressed and maybe try to sleep. But before he could take a step toward the wardrobe, a heavy, uncoordinated knock rattled the front door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Jayden raised a brow, crossing the room in three strides. He cracked the door open, peering out into the dimly lit hallway.

Jessica stood there, swaying slightly under the harsh fluorescent light.

"Jayyydenn," she slurred, her eyes struggling to focus on him. "Heyyy."

Jayden’s eyes widened in shock. "Jessica?"

She looked... terrible wasn’t quite the right word. She looked wrecked. Her hair was disheveled, falling in messy waves around her shoulders. Her face was flushed red, her eyes were slightly glassy, pupils dilated.

And her nightgown. Christ, her nightgown.

It was a thin, silky thing that barely reached mid-thigh. The straps kept sliding off her shoulders, and the neckline dipped low enough that Jayden had to actively force his eyes to stay on her face. The fabric clung to her curves in ways that made it very clear she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

But what caught Jayden’s eye wasn’t the dress. It was the half-empty bottle of whiskey dangling loosely from her fingers.

He frowned. "Jessica, what are you—"

"Woahh..." She stumbled forward before he could finish, her legs giving out.

Jayden reacted on instinct, catching her before she hit the ground. His hands landed on the bare skin of her her waist, and suddenly they were pressed together, her body against his, and he was acutely aware that he was wearing nothing but a towel and she was wearing almost less.

Heat flooded through him immediately. And despite his exhaustion, despite his anger, Jayden felt a sharp, involuntary spike of arousal. He let out a sigh of relief, genuinely grateful for the towel hiding his boner.

"I... I wanna crash here," Jessica mumbled into his chest, her breath warm on his skin.

Jayden swallowed hard, fighting the reaction of his body.

"Uhm... okay," he said, trying to keep his voice steady as he carefully guided her inside and kicked the door shut behind them. "Let’s get you inside."

Jessica giggled in a sultry manner. She leaned heavily against Jayden as he half-carried, half-guided her to his bed.

She collapsed onto it with a soft "oof," the bottle still clutched in her hand. Whiskey sloshed dangerously close to the rim.

Jayden stood back, his mind racing. Jessica was drunk. Very drunk. He’d seen her wasted before, but never like this before.

Something was wrong.

Jessica brought the bottle to her lips and took another long drink.

"Jessica... stop that," Jayden moved forward quickly, concern overriding everything else. "Jesus, how much have you had?"

"Not ’nough," she mumbled, her words slurring together.

"That’s whiskey," Jayden said, reaching for the bottle. "You shouldn’t be—"

Jessica pulled back, clutching the bottle to her chest. "Why shouldn’t I?" Her voice came out defensive, almost angry. "It’s the only thing that helps. Only thing that makes it stop."

"Makes what stop?" Jayden asked gently, his hand still extended. "Jessica, what’s going on?"

"Everything," she said, her eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears. "Everything hurts and this—" she lifted the bottle, "—this makes it stop hurting. Makes me forget. Just for a little while."

Jayden’s chest tightened. He’d seen pain before—hell, he lived with it daily—but seeing it on Jessica’s face, seeing her trying to drown it in alcohol...

"Drinking isn’t the solution," he said softly, kneeling in front of her so they were at eye level. "Whatever you’re dealing with, this isn’t the way to handle it."

"Oh, and you know the right way?" Jessica’s laugh was bitter. "You, who keeps everything bottled up inside? Who never talks about anything?"

The jab hit closer than Jayden wanted to admit, but he pushed past it. "Maybe I’m not the best example," he acknowledged. "But I know Jacob. And if he saw you like this, it would kill him. He’d be so worried. So disappointed."

He reached for the bottle again. "Please, Jess. Just give me—"

"No!" Jessica stumbled back from him. "Back off, Jayden! You’re not my mom!" She let out a harsh, bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Actually, even she can’t tell me to stop. Because she’s too busy being dead."

Jayden froze. And suddenly, everything clicked into place. He finally understood what was going on.

The date. Today’s date, was a sensitive date for Jessica.

"Oh, no..." Jayden sighed. He’d been so wrapped up in his own problems that he’d completely forgotten.

Fifteen years ago today, was the day Jessica’s mum died. Killed in a beast fight when Jessica was only three years old.