32. Shya

Chapter thirty-two

Shya

T he darkness pressed in around me, suffocating and oppressive. I was running, my lungs burning, my heart pounding. Shadows chased me, their clawed hands reaching for me, trying to drag me back into the abyss.

"You can't escape," a voice hissed. "You're mine now!"

I tried to scream, but no sound came out. My legs felt like lead, each step becoming harder than the last. Just as the shadows were about to engulf me, I heard another voice, distant but familiar.

"She doesn't need you in order to deal with this. She has her own Pack, her own family!" It was my mother's voice, angry and insistent.

"I won't leave her," Mason's reply was firm.

"You are not welcome here any longer. You will leave our lands, or there will be war between us," that voice I recognized as Edmond's.

The voices grew louder, more intense, swirling around me like a tempest. I felt myself being pulled in different directions, torn between the nightmare and reality.

"… her choice …"

"… needs time …."

"… can't just …"

"… mine now …"

"Mason? Mason!" I called out with a gasp as my eyes flew open. For a moment, I lay frozen, my heart racing, my body covered in a cold sweat. The familiar contours of my bedroom slowly came into focus, bathed in the soft, golden light of late afternoon filtering through the curtains. Confusion and fear gripped me as I tried to shake off the lingering tendrils of the nightmare.

What was real and what was not? I just didn't know anymore.

I didn't remember getting into my bed or putting on the soft satin slip that now covered me. Had that all been Mason?

From downstairs, I heard Edmond's voice rise above the others, sharp and commanding. "Mason, stop right there!" he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. "I order you not to go to her. Shya is going to be my mate, and I will be the one to deal with this situation."

I hated that they were fighting. Hated that I was suddenly a "situation." Hated that Dad was dead, and there was nothing I could do to bring him back. Hated that we should be mourning him but instead were bickering with each other. I needed to get up, to stop the arguing, to be the peacekeeper in this, but when I moved, everything hurt. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and then stopped. Everything inside and out was too sore, too raw. I just wanted to crawl back under the covers and pretend none of this had happened.

Fuck! Get up, Shya, you can do this.

A loud, violent thud echoed from downstairs, making me flinch. It was followed immediately by the sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs, growing louder and more urgent with each passing second. The house seemed to tremble with the force of whoever was coming.

My breath caught in my throat as the door to my room burst open, and then Mason was there, his face a mask of fierce protectiveness and barely contained fury. For a moment, he stood there, filling the doorway with his presence, and I forgot how to breathe.

I blinked, and he was by my side, his strong arms wrapping around me. The moment his skin touched mine, it was as if a dam broke within me. I collapsed into his embrace, my body shaking with the force of my suppressed emotions. He was real, he was here. I was so scared that I was going to wake up back in Tristan's cage, or worse, in his bed, and that this was all a dream.

"Princess," Mason murmured, his voice soothing in my ear. "I'm here. I've got you. You're safe now, I promise."

I looked up at him and felt grateful. Grateful he was there, grateful he was taking care of me, grateful that he made everything seem better. And that's when I knew he had to go.

I was next in line to be the Alpha of my Pack. Yes, I'd been kidnapped, had my mind and feelings violated, had been chased through the forest and jumped off a fucking waterfall. But I'd had enough of relying on others to make me feel better. I just wanted to sink into Mason's arms every time I saw him, and when I did, all my worries and fears and hurt went away. I had to find a way to make myself feel better. And I couldn't do that with Mason and his perfect jaw, beautiful abs, and fucking kissable lips, being here.

There was a hesitant knock at the door, then it opened, and Henry stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and something else I couldn't quite place. His eyes darted between Mason and me, his lips pursing into a thin line.

"Henry, is everything okay?"

"Mai Parker and Sam Shaw are here," Henry said, his voice carefully neutral. "They're waiting downstairs."

I felt Mason stiffen beside me.

"We'll be right down," Mason replied, his tone matching Henry's in its neutrality.

Henry glanced at me. When I nodded, he turned and left.

I tightened my grip on Mason, knowing this would be the last time we did this, not wanting to let go.

"Princess?" Mason must have felt a difference in me.

I clung on a second longer, wanting to store his scent and the feel of him deep inside of my brain. I knew I would need it in the coming days.

"I'm okay," I said, finally letting go, not able to meet his eyes. "I need to get dressed. Can you meet me down there?"

Mason studied my face. "Princess, what happened? You can talk to me."

I forced a smile onto my face. "I know. I'm fine, really. I just need to work out what shoes to wear. I'll be down in five."

He looked at me for a moment longer, then sighed and nodded. "Okay, I'll be just downstairs."

Then he turned and left, and I had to sit on my hands and bite my tongue to stop myself from reaching out to him and calling him back.