Chapter 141

Agnes

I sat slumped against the alley wall, rain soaking through what was left of my gown. My chest ached from sobbing, my bare feet numb against the wet pavement. The emerald fabric hung in tatters around me, the vines I’d stitched so carefully now shredded beyond recognition.

But most of all, beyond the ruined dress, humiliation burned through me like a wildfire—especially now that Mason, of all people, was striding up to me. I instinctively turned my head away, as if that could somehow blot out his existence. I couldn’t face anyone—not after the fight, not after Olivia’s cruel words, not after Elijah’s disappointment.

Mason stopped in front of me, his shadow blocking the light.

“Get in,” he said, holding out a hand. “You’ll freeze out here.”

I hesitated, but I wasn’t exactly in a state to argue and I knew Mason well enough to know that he wasn’t going to just leave me here. With a sigh, I took his hand, and he pulled me up, steadying me as I stumbled.

He shrugged off his coat and draped it over my shoulders, the wool heavy and warm against my shivering body. I clutched it tight around me as I climbed into the passenger seat. The door shut with a thud, and he rounded the car and slid behind the wheel.

“You okay?” he asked, cranking up the heat as he pulled away from the curb.

I stared at my hands, at the torn fabric peeking out from under his coat, at the rain and dirt soaking my bare feet. Goddess, I looked like a street urchin. “No,” I muttered, letting out a wry little laugh. “Not even close.”

He nodded, like he had expected that. Not that I blamed him, of course. I looked and felt like hell. Probably smelled like it, too.

We drove in silence for a bit, the city lights blurring past the window. I warmed my shaking hands in front of the car heater, and bit my lip, wondering if Elijah would be furious. He might be looking for me in the rain for all I knew, wondering where I went.

Suddenly, Mason spoke again. “I saw the videos.”

“News travels that fast, huh?”

Mason frowned. “You need to stop this, Agnes. Trying to love a man who’s already got a mate—it’s a losing battle.”

My stomach twisted, but I didn’t respond. I just pulled his coat tighter around me.

“A mate bond doesn’t break,” he went on. “Not really. And if Elijah is still tied to Olivia after everything she’s done—to Thea, to you—he’s not letting go and has no intentions of doing so.”

“If he marks her,” I said bitterly, “it’ll kill her.”

Mason’s face darkened. “If he truly cared about you, he would have unmarked her by now, consequences be damned. She’s abused their daughter, and she’s hurt you. You’re his wife now, Agnes. If he cared enough, he wouldn’t let you suffer like this.”

I swallowed hard, my throat closing up. “It’s not that simple,” I said, but my words were barely audible.

“Isn’t it?” Mason shot back. “He’s had years to fix this. If he hasn’t, maybe he’s planning to go back to her. Why else keep the bond intact?”

My heart sank. I didn’t want to believe it. Elijah couldn’t unmark Olivia—not easily. The bond tied him to her wolf, and breaking it risked killing her. It was why we’d gone to the witch, why he was going to so much trouble to find a way to do it without those consequences.

But…

What if Elijah was holding onto Olivia for reasons he wouldn’t, or maybe couldn’t, admit? What if I was just deluding myself into thinking we could be a family?

I pressed my forehead to the cool window, watching the fat raindrops race down the glass. “He wouldn’t,” I whispered, more to myself than to Mason. But the seeds had been planted, and they were already sprouting thorns in my chest.

To my surprise and perhaps relief, Mason didn’t push further. He just drove, the silence stretching on endlessly until we reached the estate. The tires crunched on the gravel drive, and I saw Elijah’s car parked out front.

My stomach dropped once more. I supposed he’d gone home anyway. Did he know Mason had picked me up, or had he simply been so hurt and angry that he didn’t care where I went? I doubted it was the latter, but either way, I wasn’t ready to face him—not like this, soaked and broken.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, shoving the door open. I handed Mason his coat, the rain hitting me again as I stepped out. He nodded, and I shut the door, hurrying up the steps in my tattered dress.

Inside, the house was quiet and the lights were dim. I kicked off my ruined dress in the foyer, leaving it in a wet heap, and grabbed a towel from the hall closet. My hair dripped as I wrapped it around myself, my bare shoulders still trembling. I padded into the living room, and there he was—Elijah, sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees.

He looked up, his eyes sweeping over me with anger and relief. “Agnes,” he said, standing abruptly. “James told me he saw you get in Mason’s car. I’ve been calling you nonstop.”

I gestured to the towel barely covering my naked body. “I left it at the venue,” I said flatly. Along with all my other things.

His jaw ticked, and he stepped closer. “I was worried. After that fight—I didn’t know where you went. What you did today… it wasn’t right. You shouldn’t have stooped to her level, nor should you have run off like that.”

My chest clenched in response to his disappointment, but I forced out a bitter laugh, my hands shaking as I wiped the rainwater from my face. “Maybe I need medication too, like Olivia. Since I’m clearly losing it, thinking I can have a family with you when my daughter’s dead.”

Elijah flinched, and I instantly regretted saying that. I braced for anger, which would be justified, but to my surprise he stayed calm—too calm. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I don’t think you need medication,” he said matter-of-factly. “You’re not losing it, Agnes. But if you want it, I won’t stop you.”

I stared at him, my throat burning. His quiet response threw me off. I’d expected a fight, not this… restraint. It made the doubt Mason planted twist tighter. If he cared, wouldn’t he argue? Wouldn’t he tell me I was enough?

Without another word, I turned to leave, my bare feet squeaking on the hardwood. I needed to get upstairs, away from him, away from everything. I needed a bath and a huge glass of wine and at least three hours to cry into my pillow before sleep took me.

But his words stopped me at the doorway.

“Make a new outfit for the gala,” he said. “For you and Thea. She doesn’t want to wear the old one now that it has Olivia’s scent all over it.”

I froze, my hand on the doorframe. Surprise flickered through me, dulling the pain for a moment. After today he still wanted me there? With him and Thea? I glanced back at him, finding his eyes gently sweeping over my body, barely covered by the towel, the swell of my hips and ass straining against the fabric.

Suddenly, my face heated for reasons that felt… inappropriate given the circumstances. I swallowed hard, squeezing my legs together. If he didn’t care like Mason said, he wouldn’t look at me like that, right?

“You still want to go with me?” I asked, turning fully.

He nodded, and looked genuinely confused. “Yes.” Just one word.

“The dress is ruined,” I said, clearing my throat. “Completely shredded.”

“Then remake it,” he replied, folding his arms. “You’re good at that—making something beautiful out of nothing.”

My stomach twisted again. I wanted to believe he meant it, that he didn’t hate me or pity me or any of the other things that so many people, Mason included, thought of him. That he just wanted… me. Even if I was a little fucking crazy sometimes.

Finally, I swallowed the lump in my throat, nodding slowly.

“Okay,” I said, turning to leave. “I’ll remake the dress.”