Submission is Not My Style novel Chapter 118

The ride is quiet.

Fury stares out the window, lost in his own thoughts. Jasmine sits beside him in silence, her hands folded tightly in her lap. I don’t say anything, pretending not to notice. She’s processing, and I know better than to interrupt that kind of heartbreak.

Eventually, the carriage slows.

We roll to a stop in front of a quiet house, nestled within a field of wildflowers. Roses, lilies, foxglove… all blooming, spilling colors across the landscape like a painting. The scent of jasmine–fittingly–wafts through the air, calming and sweet.

The house is small, but warm. The kind of place built with love. It’s tucked away from the world, hidden among nature, peaceful and still. The kind of home someone would keep when all they’ve loved has been lost.

I step out first, breathing in the air.

When Fury turns to help Jasmine down, she hesitates. Then, with a forced smile, she hops down on her own before he can touch her.

He blinks, slightly confused. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says a little too quickly, brushing imaginary dust from her dress before walking ahead without looking at him.

Fury watches her go, puzzled. He glances at me for a moment, brows knitting together. “Did I… say something wrong?”

I don’t answer. I just give him a small smile and say, “Come on, let’s go.”

He follows, still unaware but I know exactly what’s happening. I see it clearly.

Jasmine’s falling in love–hard. And I can’t blame her. Fury is probably the first man who’s treated her the way she deserves. Khoas her first mate had been the worst kind of bastard, leaving scars so deep they nearly broke her. Fury is the opposite. He holds her like she’s fragile, not broken. Protects her without asking for anything in return.

But the problem is… he doesn’t see it, and I’m not sure who that’s going to hurt more–her, or him.

As we walk deeper into the compound, Fury starts acting strangely

He keeps rubbing his nose, sniffing like something’s bothering him. His shoulders twitch slightly. I glance at him. “You alright?”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are narrowed, nostrils flaring like a wolf catching a scent in the wind.

Odd.

But then I see him stiffen and slow his steps as we reach the entrance to the small house.

There, just a few feet ahead, a man sits in a wheelchair. He’s motionless, head bowed, hands gripping the armrests as if holding himself together. Something about him pulls at my chest. He looks… empty. Like life forgot to finish him. His frame is thin, almost gaunt, but even in his stillness, I can see the resemblance his jaw, the eyes, the stubborn line of his brow.

An older, broken version of Fury.

“Father?” Fury’s voice comes out as a whisper. Soft. Shaky.

The man looks up slowly and gasps.

“Tom…?” His voice cracks like a branch underfoot. “Is it really you?”

Fury’s whole body shudders. He takes a step forward–and then another–and then suddenly he’s dropping to his knees in front

of his father, arms wrapping around the frail frame like he’s trying to hold time itself.

“It’s me,” Fury says, choking on the words. “I’m here.”

The old man grips him back with strength I didn’t think he had, buying, his face into his son’s shoulder. I feel Jasmine shift beside me, trying hard not to cry.

“If only your mother were here to see this to see you, just as I am seeing you now,” the man murmurs, eyes already wet.

“I’m glad you’re alive and well,” Fury says softly.

“It’s all thanks to Nora,” his father replies. “She never gave up. She took care of me, of the house, of your mother’s garden. That girl is an angel.”

Fury pulls back slightly, wiping his face quickly before standing again. “Dad, this is Princess Kali–future Queen and mate to the future Alpha King, Jack–and this is Jasmine, his sister.”

The man blinks at us, then gives a tired but genuine smile. “An honor. You’re both welcome here, always.”

Jasmine bows slightly, cheeks flushing. “Thank you, sir.”

But Fury’s still… distracted. The nose scratching gets worse, more frantic now. His eyes dart around, agitated. My stomach tightens with recognition.

No.

I’ve seen this before–the twitching, the shift in scent, the sudden hyper–awareness. I saw it before he met Celestia… his first chance mate.

I shake my head quickly. No. It can’t be. Not again. Not when Jasmine is already falling in love with him…. already hoping

“I’ll have Nora prepare the best tea,” Fury’s father says with a smile. “She should be back any moment from the garden. Your mother’s garden. She goes there every morning–keeps it blooming, like your mother would’ve wanted.”

And just as he says it… footsteps sound behind us. A voice, soft but steady, drifts through the air. “I’m back, Father.”

We all turn.

She’s standing there barefoot on the cobblestone path, holding a small basket of flowers and fruits. Her hair is a dark cascade of waves, her skin sun–kissed, cheeks flushed from the garden heat. She’s… beautiful. Earthy. Timeless.

And then-

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