Chapter 152

Agnes

The image of Olivia in my jewelry was burned into my mind as I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom. It was almost midnight, and sleep still refused to come. The house felt too quiet, too empty without Elijah.

He hadn’t come home.

His secretary had said he was on “confidential pack business”. So confidential, apparently, that he couldn’t even tell me what it was.

But maybe it didn’t have anything to do with the pack at all. Maybe he was with… her.

I rolled onto my side, pulling the blanket tighter around me. My throat ached from holding back tears. I didn’t want to believe it. After everything we had been through together, I had trusted him. Trusted him completely.

But hadn’t Mason warned me? Hadn’t he said that a mate bond never truly breaks? That if Elijah hadn’t taken the leap and unmarked Olivia—despite the consequences—after everything she’d done, he wasn’t letting go and had no intentions of doing so?

I sat up, switching on the bedside lamp. The clock read that it was midnight on the dot.

I needed air. I needed a drink.

Without giving myself a chance to think better of it, I dressed quickly and slipped out of the house. The night air was cool against my skin as I walked down the quiet street toward the small bar a few blocks away. It was a place I’d passed many times but never entered. Tonight, though, I needed the anonymity, the background noise of strangers to drown out my thoughts.

The bar was dimly lit and only half-full—not surprising for a weeknight. I settled onto a stool at the far end, away from the small groups of people clustered at tables. The bartender glanced at me with a flicker of recognition in his eyes. No doubt he knew who I was, but he didn’t comment on it.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

“Just something sweet. Not too strong.”

He nodded and turned away, mixing a drink. When he slid the colorful drink, complete with a tiny umbrella, across the bar to me, I took a small sip. But mostly, I just traced the rim of my glass with my finger, my mind still circling the same painful questions.

Why would Elijah lead me on like this?

Why make me believe we had a future together when he was planning to return to Olivia all along?

And Thea—Goddess, what about Thea? She was so attached to me now, calling me ‘Mommy,’ wanting me to be her real mother. What would happen to her when Elijah remarried Olivia? Would I be cut out of her life completely?

The thought made my chest constrict painfully. I took another sip of my drink, longer this time, hoping the alcohol would dull the ache.

A tap on my shoulder startled me from my spiraling thoughts. I looked up, expecting to see the bartender offering another drink, but instead found myself staring into a rather familiar pair of eyes.

“Mason?” I blinked, surprised. “What are you doing here? I’m beginning to think you’re following me.”

The joke fell flat, but Mason smiled anyway and slid onto the stool beside me. “I was walking across the street and saw you come in,” he explained. “Thought I’d check if everything was alright. You’re not exactly known for your late-night bar crawls.”

The bartender approached, and Mason ordered a whiskey neat.

“So,” Mason said when his drink arrived, “what’s got you drowning your sorrows at midnight?”

I shrugged, not quite ready to confide in him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Something happened with Elijah, didn’t it?”

I stiffened. Was I that transparent? “Why would you think that?”

“Because I know you, Agnes. We may have broken up years ago, but some things don’t change.” He took a sip of his whiskey. “And because he’s not here with you, which means either he doesn’t know you’re out alone, or he doesn’t care. Neither seems like a good sign.”

The blunt assessment stung, but I couldn’t deny the truth of it. I stared down at my drink, debating how much to share. Mason had warned me about Elijah before, had told me I was fighting a losing battle against a mate bond. Part of me was afraid that confiding in him now would just invite an ‘I told you so.’

But I was so tired of carrying this alone.

“I think…” I hesitated, chewing my lip. “I think you might have been right.” I didn’t elaborate. I didn’t need to.

Mason didn’t immediately respond. He just stared at me with an unreadable expression on his face. Finally, he let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry, Agnes. Truly. I didn’t want to be right about this.”

The kindness in his voice nearly broke me. I blinked rapidly, determined not to cry in this bar. “You still might not be,” I said, although the words sounded weak even to my own ears.

“Maybe.” He didn’t sound very convinced either.

We fell silent for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts. I sipped my drink, letting the sweetness wash away the bitterness in my mouth. The alcohol was beginning to take effect, a slight numbness spreading through my limbs.

“I know you care deeply for Elijah, even if he doesn’t deserve it,” he finally said. “But I want you to know that there are other options. That you don’t have to stay in a situation that makes you unhappy.”

I frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. “I’m saying that if things don’t work out with Elijah, I’d like you to consider me. Consider marrying me instead.”

I nearly choked on my drink. “What?”

“I mean it. I’ve never stopped caring about you, Agnes. And I would never treat you the way he has. You wouldn’t have to worry about my heart straying. I’ve always loved you.” His expression was sincere. “I know I messed up before, but I’ve changed. I’ve grown up.”

The offer took me by complete surprise. I knew Mason still had feelings for me, but I didn’t feel the same way about him. That ship had already sailed years ago, when he hadn’t even given me a chance to explain myself before he took another person’s word as truth and left me heartbroken and barely able to finish college because I was so distraught.

“I don’t know what to say,” I said after a moment. Of course I wasn’t going to marry him.

Mason reached across the bar, his hand covering mine. His palm was warm, familiar in a distant way, and I hated the way it made my traitorous heart flutter. “You don’t have to say anything now. Just consider it. That’s all I ask.”

His touch lingered for a moment before he withdrew, standing from his stool. “I should go. It’s late.”

I nodded, still processing his offer. Still processing everything, really.

“I’ve got the tab,” he said, placing money on the bar—enough to cover both of our drinks and a generous tip for the bartender as well. “Take care of yourself, Agnes. And call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”

With that, Mason turned and walked away, weaving through the now-sparse crowd toward the exit. I stared after him, not even able to bring myself to say goodbye. My throat was too tight, my chest too full of heartache and confusion.

Did Mason seriously just ask me to marry him?

And most importantly… Why was a tiny part of me almost tempted to say yes?