29. Mason

Chapter twenty-nine

Mason

T he leather chairs creaked softly beneath Derek and me as we sat down, the sound mingling with the relentless rhythm of the clock on the mantle.

Across from us in the study, Edmond sat in the chair that once belonged to Michael. He was no Michael, though. His posture was rigid, and his eyes were hard, with a hint of thinly veiled displeasure. Next to him was the man he introduced as his brother, Garrett. Where Edmond was polished, Garrett exuded raw energy. He was slightly taller than Edmond, maybe 6'3", with a muscular build that spoke of hours in the gym rather than boardrooms. Unlike Edmond's formal business attire, Garrett wore trendy, casual clothes that emphasized his physique.

"I suppose I should thank you for finding Shya," Edmond said, his voice aloof and condescending, as if he were thanking workmen for doing a job on his house. "You found and returned her to us, and for that, we are, of course, grateful."

I stayed silent, mainly because I was trying to stop myself from leaping across the desk and punching his lights out.

"I imagine you do this sort of thing a lot in your line of work. Returning lost things to their families."

I leaned back in my chair, wishing I had a ball to squeeze so I could pretend it was his head. "No, this is not the sort of thing I usually do. This was personal. Something of mine was taken. I went out and found it. What about you, Edmond? What have you been up to while we were out there hunting Tristan?"

Edmond crossed one leg over the other and flicked an invisible speck of dust from his knee. "Me? Some of us have to look at the bigger picture, Mason. I was here, holding this Pack together, coordinating the search. We can't all go blundering off in any direction we feel like."

"And yet, blundering off in any direction is exactly what found her."

Garrett opened his arms wide, his movement drawing my attention. A cocky grin spread across his face as he interjected, "Come on, bro. You gotta admit, Mason here's got a point. Sometimes, you need a little less planning and a little more action."

Edmond's jaw tightened at his brother's words.

Was this a coordinated play by them? Garrett insulting his brother to get on side with us? Or was he really just that disloyal? My brothers would never undermine me in front of outsiders.

"But hey," Garrett continued, "I guess that's why you're the brains and Mason here is the brawn, right? Is that what gets Shya all hot and bothered, Mason? Maybe you can give some tips to my brother, seeing as it'll be his job to keep her sweet soon."

I didn't give a fuck if this was a test or not; I had Garrett out of his seat and against the wall before he could blink.

The door swung open, and Camille strode in. Garrett's demeanor changed immediately. He straightened up, and the smirk disappeared. Gone was the frat boy, and instead, there was a respectful member of the Pack.

"Mason, please remove your hands from Garrett."

I stared at Garrett until he lowered his eyes, then released him.

"Cam—" Garrett started, but she held up a hand.

"I don't want to know, Garrett. Please, Mason, take a seat."

I sat back down next to Derek and studied Camille as her eyes lingered on Michael's chair, now occupied by Edmond. Pain flickered across her face, then was gone. She'd lost weight since I'd been here last, and exhaustion lines were etched around her eyes, but there was a spark of hope in them, too.

"I can't thank you enough. You brought my daughter home to me. To us."

"How is she?" I asked. Both my wolf and I were feeling the strain of being apart from her. We wanted her in our sight at all times.

"She's resting. Tucker is refusing to leave her side. They're curled up in bed, and he's reading to her from the latest book he's managed to steal from his brother."

"It sounds like old times," Derek commented.

A shadow passed over Camille's face, and I suspected she was thinking of when Michael was here and reading to his children. She covered it quickly, though, and turned to me. "Tell me everything."

It took over an hour to fill them in on our investigation and answer all of Camille's questions. I'd left AJ and Milly out of it, not wanting to let their involvement be widely known without their permission.

"Now Shya's home, you'll need to look to the future. Tristan is still a threat."

"Yes," Camille agreed, a thoughtful expression on her face. "That's why it is imperative that Shya mates with Edmond as soon as possible."

The words hit me like a throat punch. Mate with Edmond? After everything she‘d been through?

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Edmond's eyes narrowed.

"Our Pack is vulnerable," Camille continued, ignoring my question. "You're right; Tristan is still out there. This isn't over; he will attack again. Michael's death has left a power vacuum. We need to fill it, and fast. A stable Pack that has a clear line of succession is a strong Pack. That's what we need right now."

"Don't you think she's been through enough? Your daughter has been kidnapped and brainwashed. She jumped off a waterfall, for fuck's sake, just to get away from one motherfucker who tried to convince her that he was her mate. She's just learned her dad is dead, and now you want to force her into an arranged mating?"

Camille flinched at my words, but her eyes remained determined. "I know it‘s not ideal. If there was any other way, I'd take it, Mason. Of course I would. But I have to think of the Pack. Of the future."

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell her exactly where she could shove her plan. But before I could, there was a knock at the door, and Danni walked in.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Jem Parker is here," she said. "And he's brought a girl with him."

Jem strode in, his presence filling the entire room. Though his frame was still thin, and his face bore the marks of his ordeal as Brock's captive, there was an undeniable aura of danger about him. His eyes, once bright with confidence, now held a haunted depth as they swept across us, assessing each one of us with the instincts of a true Alpha.

When he deemed it safe, Jem nodded to someone outside. A slight figure slipped into the room, moving with an odd, graceful hesitancy. Esme, her sandy blonde hair swaying as she walked, looked around with wide, observant eyes that seemed to take in more than just the physical space.

Camille rose to greet Jem, her posture betraying a mix of respect and wariness. "Jem, how nice to see you again."

"Camille," he said, his face grim. "I'm sorry about Michael. Truly."

Camille's composure wavered for a moment. "Thank you," she said softly. Then, almost to herself, she asked, "Does it get easier?"

Jem's eyes darkened. "Not that I've found," he replied simply, his hand unconsciously moving to his chest.

Esme stepped between them, and I wasn't sure if she'd done it on purpose to break Jem's line of thoughts, or to introduce herself.

"I'm Esme Parker. I'll be your witch helper for today." Her gaze swept around the room, lingering on each person before moving on. Garrett tensed when Esme looked at him, and his face went guarded. When her eyes landed on Edmond, a slight frown creased her brow.

"I called Esme from the hospital and asked her to come. She's here to help," I explained. "She's risking a lot to be here. The Wolf Council has made it clear that if Esme performs any magic in the north, she'll be facing a death sentence."

"This is a foolish risk." Edmond scowled. "We shouldn't be involving ourselves with witches, especially not after what they may have already done to Shya. Putting another witch in her head is not the way to protect her."

Esme flinched at his words, her thin frame seeming to shrink even more. Jem's eyes flashed dangerously, a low growl emanating from his chest.

I felt my anger rising again. "Esme can be trusted. This is our best chance to determine if Shya is still under any kind of spell. Esme will be able to see if she is and may even be able to remove it. It might be the only way Shya can be sure that she's free of Tristan's influence."

Esme fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "Moon star whispers secrets," she murmured. "I can hear the echoes of the spell, even from here. But the shadows … They're slippery like eels. Hard to catch."

She tilted her head as if listening to something no one else could hear. "This magic has teeth, you know. It bites and gnaws and leaves little crumbs of darkness behind. But I can sweep them away, yes. Sweep, sweep, like fall leaves."

Garrett's eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and something darker as he spoke. "Let's be real. How do we know this witch isn't just going to make things worse? I mean, come on, she sounds like she's already got a screw loose." He gestured toward Esme with a dismissive wave of a hand. "No offense, sweetheart, but you're not exactly inspiring confidence here."

Edmond turned to Camille. "You can't consider this. It is irresponsible and unwarranted. We're Shya's Pack. We'll help her through this. We don't need to turn to outsiders and witches."

Camille's eyes locked onto mine, studying me intently. After a long moment, she spoke. "This isn't my decision to make. It's Shya's. I'll speak with her and let her choose whether she wants Esme's help."

I nodded.

Esme smiled softly, her eyes unfocused as if seeing something beyond the room. "Sometimes," she mused, her voice dreamy, "the clearest path forward is the one we fear to tread. Like dancing through a moon star garden."

Garrett scoffed and threw up his hands. "Oh, fabulous! The witch is completely kooky, and you want to give Shya to her?"

"Watch your mouth," Jem growled, placing a protective hand on Esme's shoulder.

"Enough, Garrett," I said, stepping between him and Jem. "You've had your say. Shya decides."

Garrett shook his head, but he lowered his eyes and sat his ass back down.