31. Shya

Chapter thirty-one

Shya

" T ucker, I told you to leave." Mom's voice was harsh. "Henry, take your brother out of here. Now!"

I frowned. Mom only talked to Tucker and Henry in that tone if they'd done something really bad.

Henry, who had been staring at Esme, startled at the sound of his name. "Oh, right. Sorry, Mom. Come on, Tuck, let's go."

Tucker frowned. I knew he had picked up on Mom's tone of voice, but he allowed Henry to lead him out, though not before throwing one last curious glance at Esme.

As the door closed behind them, I took a deep breath and turned back to Esme. "Okay," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "What do I need to do?"

Esme smiled softly. "Just sit down and try to relax."

I nodded, thinking it was easy for her to say to relax. She wasn't the one who was going to have someone digging around in her mind. I settled myself onto the floor and felt everyone's eyes on me.

"I'll be right here," Mason said, his voice soft and reassuring. Our eyes met, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of us.

Then Esme kneeled in front of me, her small hands hovering near my temples. "Close your eyes, Shya. Take deep breaths. Try to empty your mind."

I did as she said, forcing my eyes shut and attempting to calm my racing thoughts. I felt a gentle warmth near my skin. A gasp escaped my lips as I felt something—a presence, a touch—brush against my consciousness. It was foreign, alien, yet somehow not threatening. I could sense Esme's concentration, her careful probing of my mind.

I kept my eyes closed and focused on my breathing. I expected to hear Esme begin chanting, but instead, the quiet stretched.

A strange sensation washed over me, like a cool breeze ghosting across my skin. I fought the urge to open my eyes, to see what Esme was doing. The air around us seemed to thicken, charged with an energy that made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

Suddenly, a voice whispered in my head, making me jump.

Your mind is so sparkly. All these little lights zooming around. It's pretty.

My eyes flew open in shock. Esme sat before me, her own eyes closed, a look of intense concentration on her face. Her lips weren't moving, but I could hear her voice clear as day inside my head.

E-Esme? I thought hesitantly.

Oh! You can hear me! The mental voice giggled. That's good. Some people can't, you know. Their minds are too noisy.

I blinked, trying to process what was happening. How are you doing this?

It's easy peasy. I just reach out and touch your thoughts with mine.

You can do this with everyone?

Only those I'm physically close to. With practice, I will be able to touch minds over great distances, but I need to grow more first. Now, try to shush your mind. I need to look for the bad spell. Your sparkly thoughts are hiding it.

I tried to quiet my mind, though it wasn't easy with Esme rummaging around in there. The sensation was strange—not painful, but definitely unsettling.

Shya! There are so many pretty lights dancing around in your mind. Some are bright and zoomy, like shooting stars. Others are soft and floaty, like little fireflies.

I found myself drawn into Esme's vivid descriptions. Suddenly, I could almost see it, too—my thoughts and emotions as tiny, glowing sparks, whizzing and dancing through the landscape of my mind. It was beautiful and surreal.

Oh, no! Oh no, no, no. This is a nasty one. This is really, really nasty. That was a bad witch who did this.

Okay, that did not sound good. What is it?

This one here, can you see it? No, of course you can't. Sorry, I always forget you can't see your own brain! But I found the spell. It's all dark and sticky, like a giant octopus. Its yucky tentacles are wrapped around your sparks like a parasite, suffocating them.

I felt my heart rate spike. I wanted it out of me. Now.

Esme's voice in my mind rose in fury. This is a violation, Shya! A corruption of everything you are. Whoever did this is a very bad person!

Can you get it out? Please tell me you can get it out!

Of course, I can get it out. I'm a very strong witch, Esme assured me. I'm going to squish it like the nasty bug it is. Hold on, Shya. This might feel a little weird.

I braced myself, unsure of what to expect. Suddenly, I felt a swell of warmth spreading through my mind, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

There you are! You can't hide from me; no, siree! Out you go!

The sensation that followed was indescribable. It was like a great weight was being lifted, like chains I hadn't even known were there were crumbling away. The sticky, suffocating darkness Esme had described began to dissolve, replaced by a pure, radiant light that seemed to come from deep within me.

Shya! Your sparks are getting brighter! They're dancing faster!

With her words, I felt a final surge of magic and then … release.

Tristan is a fuckhead shit muffin. I waited for the pain to come, but there was none. The last bits of the spell had fallen. I was free.

I expected to feel relief, to be happy. But as the full extent of what had been done to me came crashing down, rage, pure, unadulterated rage flooded through me. My body began to tremble, my hands clenching into fists. And then, from deep within, I felt another presence stirring—my wolf, now surging to the surface with a vengeance.

No, no, no! Esme's panicked voice echoed in my head. Shya, you need to calm down!

But it was too late. With a roar that tore from my throat, I felt my body begin to Shift. My skin rippled and stretched like molten wax, reshaping itself over a rapidly changing frame. Muscles coiled and uncoiled, twisting into new forms as my limbs elongated. A cascade of sensations washed over me—tingling, burning, prickling—as coarse fur erupted from every pore. My face contorted, features fluid as clay, molding into a lupine muzzle. In seconds, my wolf had taken control, blind with fury and the need to lash out at the violation we had endured.

I was dimly aware of shouts as I lunged forward, claws raking across the nearest surface. Something shattered—a vase, perhaps?—and I whirled, snapping at shadows. My wolf didn't care who or what was in our path; she only wanted to let out the pain and betrayal that consumed us.

Through it all, I could hear Esme's voice, high and frightened: "Shya! You're safe now! Please calm down!"

Then Jem grabbed Esme round the waist and yanked her into a corner, out of range. A part of me realized that Jem was protecting Esme. From me. That was wrong. They shouldn't have to fear me.

But my wolf was beyond reason. With another howl of anguish, I threw myself against the walls, desperate to escape, to run, to find the one who had done this to us and make him pay. I knew I was hurting myself, could smell my blood all around me, but I didn't care. I just wanted to hurt something, anything, to make this pain and rage go away.

Amidst the chaos, a single voice cut through the haze of my rage. Mason's voice, strong and steady, touched something deep within me.

"Princess, it's okay. You're safe now. No one here is going to hurt you."

My wolf's ears pricked up, her snarls faltering for a moment.

"That's it, princess. Easy now. I know you're hurting. I know you're angry. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

I felt my wolf's hackles begin to lower, her frantic energy slowly dissipating.

A soft whine eased from my throat, the fight draining out of me. Exhaustion washed over me in waves, and I felt my wolf retreating. The tension slowly seeped out of my muscles.

I collapsed to the floor, human again, my body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. Grief, anger, and a profound sense of violation swirled within me in a chaotic maelstrom.

Oh Goddess, what did Tristan do to me? How could he? He made me trust him. I thought I loved him, and it was all a lie. All of it. I felt hollowed out, as if a fundamental part of me had been scooped away, leaving nothing but raw, aching emptiness.

I became aware of concerned voices around me, hands reaching out to offer comfort. But I flinched away, unable to bear even the gentlest touch.

"Hush, princess. I've got you." I felt Mason's strong arms scoop me up and hold me gently against his chest.

"Does she need the doctor?" Mom asked from behind him.

"No, the cuts aren't deep. She just needs a bath and some sleep."

I felt him moving toward the door.

"You have no right to take her, Mason. As her fiancé, it's my job!"

I heard a thump, then the sound of someone hitting the ground.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, man. I'm so fucking clumsy," Derek said.

"You hit me!" Edmond growled.

"Enough!" Mom used her no-nonsense voice she used with Henry and Tucker. "Mason, get my daughter cleaned up and settled. Edmond, we will deal with this when Shya is asleep."

Then there was the sound of the door opening and then closing behind us.

"Where—?"

"You're safe, Shya. I'm taking you to your bedroom. It's all going to be okay now."

I don't remember getting to my room or Mason lying me on the bed. I think I must have drifted off, but I woke when he came back and picked me up again.

"The bath is ready," he told me, his voice soft.

He carried me to the bathtub and lay me gently in it. The warm water stung my cuts, but the pain was oddly grounding. I hissed softly, blinking away tears as I became more aware of my surroundings. Mason was crouched beside the tub, his eyes filled with concern.

"Easy, princess," he murmured. "Just relax."

I nodded weakly, too exhausted to speak. Mason began to carefully clean my wounds, his touch impossibly gentle. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the soft lapping of water and my occasional whimpers of pain.

As he worked, my mind began to clear. The fog of rage and confusion lifted, leaving behind a dull ache and a growing sense of shame. I remembered my wolf's rampage, the destruction I'd caused.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to … to lose control like that."

Mason's hand stilled for a moment. "You have nothing to apologize for, Shya. What happened wasn't your fault."

I felt fresh tears well up in my eyes. "I just feel so angry at myself. I … I believed him. I let him manipulate me. I thought, after the first time, when he had me convinced, when he was still the Beta here … after that, there was no way he'd be able to twist my mind against me again. How could I have been so stupid?"

"Hey, look at me," Mason said firmly, cupping my face in his hands. "You are not stupid. They did this. Tristan and the witch. Not you. They're good at manipulation. No one blames you or thinks less of you for what happened. It's the opposite. You are so incredibly brave and strong, Shya. What you went through, what you survived. You broke the spell on your own. You escaped his camp on your own. You did that. Now you have support and love all around you to help you take the next steps. And whatever they are, we'll be here for you."

I met his gaze, seeing nothing but sincerity and warmth in his eyes. Something in my chest loosened, and I felt myself relax further into the water. My eyelids were growing heavy.

"Mason?"

"Mmmm?"

"Thank you for being here."

"Always, princess."

Then I fell asleep, naked, in the bath, with Mason still cleaning my wounds.