Chapter 21: I’ll be back home with a few sweethearts
Jett's mom drew a slow breath, stood, and slipped out of the precinct without a word. Her fingers locked around her purse—her favorite crutch whenever her nerves frayed, which was exactly why she owned so many. When she disappeared through the doorway, the officer let out a weary sigh.
The officer rubbed his eyes and muttered, "Not even a word, huh? Why'd I even sign up for this job?"
Outside, she climbed into her car. It had been two days since she last heard her son's voice, and in her fragile state she wanted—needed—to believe it had truly been him.
What happened on your thirteenth birthday? Mrs. Talon asked silently, hoping the question would bridge the distance to her son.
Ugh... Dad took me up into the Alaskan mountains for a survival trip, and it was hell, Jett answered.
Even without mana, Jett's father still dreamed of heroism. The impossible goal morphed into an obsession with brutal survival excursions—bush‑camps that pumped him full of adrenaline.
Convinced Jett would share the rush, he dragged him deep into Alaska's mountains, to slopes prowled by monsters weak enough for an ordinary human to survive. He didn't want to hunt them; he wanted to camp in the middle of their territory and watch from cover.
Jett spent the trip buried under snow‑soaked branches, fighting the urge to sneeze while the creatures sniffed the air above him. It had been a nightmare birthday—and he'd complained to his mother for days afterward. The argument that followed had been legendary.
Do you believe it's me now, Mom?