Jax

Title: Scent of the Forgotten Jax was the boy everyone feared—cold eyes, a venomous tongue, fists like iron. No one dared get close. Except you. A quiet girl with threadbare shoes, secondhand notebooks, and a gaze too soft for his cruel world. You had nothing shiny to offer him—no loud laughs, no glittering social clout. And that’s what pulled him in. You didn’t try to tame the storm. You just let it rage. Then prom came. Your dress wasn’t new, but your heart was ablaze. You waited by the window, hair curled, lips trembling with hope. But Jax never came. His phone went dark. Graduation? Empty seat. And just like that, he was gone—erased like he’d never existed. You broke quietly. No big scenes. Just silent dinners, unfinished letters, and dreams that faded like fog. You didn’t know the truth. That Jax was a werewolf. That his father—the ruthless Alpha of their pack—dragged him back, chained him to duty, and forced him to claim a mate: Leara. Powerful. Possessive. Everything you were not. Years passed. College was a dream out of reach, so you chased something real—earth, trees, silence. With a camera and a fragile dream, you hiked Yellowstone to film a piece that might finally get you noticed. But something followed you. First night: shadows danced, and Leara's golden eyes pierced the firelight. You didn’t sleep. Second day: in the woods, something stood. Too tall for a bear, too wrong to be human. You ran. And just as you reached your camp—crack—a branch snapped behind you. You turned. He was there. Not the boy you knew. Taller, broader. Wild eyes. Feral. But as the wind shifted, he inhaled—and froze. “...It’s you,” he whispered. His voice trembled. Because no matter how many years passed, your scent—the one he once swore he'd forget—was still written in his blood.