Chapter 159

Elijah & Agnes

Elijah

I watched them go, my vision tunneling until all I could see was Agnes’s hand in Mason’s as they disappeared around the corner. Her champagne dress trailing behind her like liquid gold, heading to the honeymoon suite I’d prepared for us.

For our wedding night.

Our wedding night.

“I told you she was no good,” Olivia murmured, her fingers tracing a pattern on my arm. “Why do you keep running back to her? She’s trash, not worth your time.”

Her words barely registered in my head. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the spot where Agnes and Mason had disappeared. Something wasn’t right. Agnes had been… stumbling. Weaving slightly as she walked, like she was drunk or…

Drugged.

No, this wasn’t right at all.

I took a step forward, intent on following them, when I felt Olivia suddenly give a tug on the mate bond. It held me back, my legs freezing of their own accord. When I looked down at her, She was smiling up at me like nothing had happened. In her hand was a crystal flute of champagne, which she held out to me.

“Forget about her,” she cooed, pressing the glass into my palm. “She’s made her choice. Let her go. We can be happy again, Elijah. Just the two of us, like it was always meant to be. Mates, forever and always.”

The bond hummed between us, amplified by her touch, clouding my thoughts like a drug. I stared at the champagne, watching the bubbles rise to the surface and burst. Was Olivia right? Had Agnes chosen Mason? Was she up there right now, tangled in his arms, in the bed I’d covered with rose petals for us?

The thought made me physically ill. I’d planned everything so carefully—the surprise wedding, the romantic suite, the ring hidden in the locket. I’d been so certain that Agnes felt the same way I did. So certain that what we had was real.

“Drink,” Olivia urged, placing her hand over mine and guiding the glass toward my lips. “It will help you relax. Help you forget her.”

Her fingers brushed up and down my arm, and the mate bond flared in response. I lifted the glass, bringing my lips to the brim. Olivia watched me the entire time. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips like a reptile.

But I froze before I could drink.

No.

Agnes wouldn’t do this. Not willingly. I couldn’t bear to think of her betraying me like that when she knew how much she meant to me. How much she meant to Thea.

The fog in my brain began to clear. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

I looked back at Olivia, really looked at her. The self-satisfied smirk. The calculated gleam in her eyes. The way she was tenderly touching that fucking locket as if it meant a damn thing compared to the one around Agnes’s neck.

“What did you do?” I growled, setting the untouched champagne on a nearby table.

Olivia’s smile faltered. “What do you mean? I haven’t done anything.”

“Bullshit.” I grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard enough to make her wince. “What did you do to Agnes?”

“Nothing!” Olivia tried to pull away, but I held firm. “She’s just showing her true colors. Getting drunk and running off with her ex. It’s not my fault she’s a slut.”

The word ignited something in me, a rage so pure and hot it burned away any lingering effects of the mate bond. I released Olivia’s wrist and shoved her away from me.

“Stay away from me,” I snarled. “And stay the fuck away from my family.”

Without waiting for her response, I turned and strode toward the staircase. I needed to get to Agnes. Now.

…

Agnes

Mason’s hand was warm in mine as he led me out of the small room and up the stairs. My head felt fuzzy, disconnected from my body, like I was floating a few inches above myself. The only thing I could focus on clearly was Mason—the curve of his jaw, the width of his shoulders, the way his hair caught the light.

I loved him. I’d always loved him. He was my mate, my other half. Why had I ever left him? How could I have not known he was my mate?

And yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, a small voice was screaming that this wasn’t right. That something was wrong. But that voice was distant, muffled, like it was coming from the bottom of a deep well.

All that mattered was Mason. Following Mason. Being with Mason.

We reached a door at the end of a long hallway, and Mason pushed it open with a flourish. “Look what I prepared for us, my love.”

The room beyond was like something from a romantic movie—a huge heart-shaped bed dominating the center, scattered with rose petals. Candles flickered on every surface. Champagne chilled in an ice bucket beside the bed.

Had Mason arranged all this? For me?

I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my brain. The room seemed to shift and waver before my eyes, the candles blurring into streaks of light.

Mason guided me toward the bed with his arm around my waist. “Isn’t this perfect?” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. “Just like I promised.”

When had he promised me anything? I couldn’t remember. Couldn’t think clearly.

He turned me to face him, his hands cupping my face, and for a moment—just a moment—I thought I saw Elijah’s face instead of his. Elijah’s dark eyes looking into mine. Elijah’s hands gentle against my skin.

Elijah.

The name cut through the fog in my mind in an instant. Elijah, who’d comforted me when I cried over my missing daughter. Elijah, who’d trusted me with Thea. Elijah, who’d woken me from that awful nightmare.

Elijah, who’d prepared this room for us. Not Mason.

I pulled back as Mason leaned in to kiss me, the movement making my head spin worse than before.

“Wait,” I mumbled, my tongue feeling thick and heavy in my mouth. “This isn’t… I don’t…”

Mason’s face hardened, his grip on my arms tightening. “Don’t fight it, Agnes. You know this is what you want. What you’ve always wanted.”

Was it? I didn’t think so. But the fog was so thick, my thoughts so scattered. I couldn’t be sure of anything except that something was deeply, terribly wrong.

“Elijah,” I whispered. “Where’s Elijah?”

Mason’s face twisted into something ugly. “Forget about him. He doesn’t want you anymore. Not after seeing us together.”

Together? Had Elijah seen us? Seen me with Mason?

Before I could process this new horror, the door burst open with a crack that sounded like a gunshot. I whirled around, the sudden movement sending me stumbling into the bedpost.

Elijah stood in the doorway, his eyes blazing with a fury I’d never seen before. His body seemed to vibrate with barely contained rage, his hands curled into claws at his sides.

“Get away from her,” he growled.

Mason stepped in front of me, as if to shield me from Elijah. “She made her choice. She chose me. Her real mate.”

Elijah’s gaze flicked to me, and something in his expression shifted. Softened. “Agnes? Are you okay?”

I tried to speak, to tell him that this wasn’t what I wanted, that something was wrong with me, but my tongue felt too big for my mouth. The words wouldn’t come.

“She’s fine,” Mason snapped. “Now get out. We’re busy.”

Elijah took a step forward, and that was all it took. One step, and then the air in the room seemed to shatter as both men shifted simultaneously.

Where Elijah had stood was now a massive gray wolf, his fur silver in the candlelight, his teeth bared in a snarl. Mason’s wolf was smaller, reddish-brown, already crouching defensively.

They collided in a blur of fur and fangs, snarling and snapping. Tables overturned, candles scattered across the floor, their flames extinguished. I pressed myself against the wall, trying to stay out of the way, my heart hammering in my chest.

Elijah’s wolf was magnificent—powerful, graceful, deadly. He moved with a fluid precision that made Mason’s attacks seem clumsy in comparison. Within moments, he had the smaller wolf pinned to the ground, his jaws around Mason’s throat.

For a terrible second, I thought he would kill him. But instead, Elijah released him with a warning growl that needed no translation: Leave. Now.

Mason didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, blood matting the fur on his shoulder where Elijah’s teeth had torn through flesh. With a final, hateful glance at both of us, he bolted for the door with his tail between his legs.

The room fell silent except for the sound of my ragged breathing. Elijah stood in the center of the wreckage, his gray fur bristling, his golden eyes fixed on me.

And somewhere deep inside of me, something stirred.

My wolf.

“It’s him,” she whispered. “It’s always been him.”

Not Mason. Never Mason.

Elijah.

She hadn’t told me to go to Mason that night in my dream. She had told me to go to Elijah to protect myself from Mason. She had known that Mason had had bad intentions, and I had blindly misunderstood her.

Tears burned in my eyes as I pushed away from the wall, my arms outstretched toward him. My legs gave out, whether from the aftereffects of whatever had been done to me or from sheer emotional exhaustion, I couldn’t tell.

But I didn’t fall. Elijah shifted back to human form in a blink, catching me before I hit the ground. His arms were strong around me, his chest warm against my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t… I wasn’t…”

Elijah’s hand came up to cradle the back of my head. “I know,” he murmured. “I understand. It wasn’t your fault.”

I looked up into his eyes, and what I saw there took my breath away. Not anger or disappointment or betrayal. Just love. Pure, unwavering love.

“Why?” I asked, my voice breaking on the word. “Why would you forgive me so easily?”

He smiled and leaned close, his lips brushing mine as he murmured, “Because I will always choose you, Agnes. Because I love you.”