Chapter 209

[ 865 words ]

Sebastian’s POV

I was furious. The entire drive back, I’d had to clench my jaw to keep from pulling over and dealing with her right then and there.

I’d made it clear, maybe not in so many words, but clear enough, that I couldn’t stand Scott Hanson. My actions, my attitude, everything about the way I reacted whenever his name came up should have told her exactly how I felt. And yet she still lied to me. Straight to my face.

If I hadn’t shown up, would she have just swept the whole thing under the rug? Would she have come home, kissed me on the cheek, and pretended she’d spent the evening with some harmless old woman?

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath.

I’d seen other Lunas at pack gatherings, constantly sent mind-links to their Alphas, checking in, making sure no she-wolf got too close. At business events, those women would blow up their husbands’ phones until they came home. And Emilia? She barely did any of that. Hell, I was the one who had to track her down to see if she was meeting other men.

What kind of backwards situation was this?

I thought about the way she’d looked climbing into the car, breathless, already talking before she’d even shut the door. She hadn’t looked guilty exactly. Just scrambling. Like she’d known the second she saw my headlights that she was in trouble and was already running the numbers on how to talk her way out of it. That bothered me more than the lie itself. She’d gotten good at managing me. Good at knowing which version of the truth I’d accept.

“Maybe you should just tell her what you need,” Ryder said, his voice low and irritatingly reasonable.

“Ha! So I’m supposed to beg her to pay attention to me? Beg her to care?”

“From where I’m standing, that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

I growled. “You saw her with Scott tonight. Don’t tell me you weren’t pissed.”

“Of course I was pissed. But Emilia already explained herself.”

That was the problem with Ryder. He forgave her too quickly. For a wolf who was supposed to be possessive and territorial, he caved far too easily when it came to our mate.

“You’d forgive her for anything,” I said. “One look, one apology, and you roll over.”

“And you’d hold a grudge until the day you die. One of us has to be reasonable.”

I shut him down and stalked into the study, slamming the door behind me.

Moments later, Emilia appeared, holding out a folded piece of paper like some kind of peace offering. I could see the scrawled handwriting covering the page, words crammed together in a rush.

She wanted me to read it. To forgive her.

Not a chance.

I snatched the letter from her hand, crumpled it into a tight ball, and tossed it into the trash without even opening it.

Her face flushed red. She stood there for a second, mouth open, before she spun on her heel and slammed the door so hard the frame rattled.

Good. Let her be angry.

Let her sit in it for a while. She’d had no trouble handing me a folded piece of paper and expecting the whole thing to disappear. She could sit with the discomfort of not knowing, for once, instead of me being the only one doing that tonight.

I waited until the house went quiet. Until I was sure she wasn’t coming back.

Then I bent down, pulled the crumpled paper from the bin, and smoothed it out on my desk.

“Dear husband, I was wrong today. I know that I made a mistake. I should not have been worried about you getting jealous and lied about Scott. I have reflected on my actions and so, I assure you that: Firstly, I’ll never hide anything from you. If I ever do, please punish me accordingly. Secondly, I’ll never go over to anyone’s house for meals, be it a friend’s or a stranger’s. Thirdly, I’ll never meet Scott alone outside of work. I’ll remember the above rules and act accordingly. If I were to break any one of them, you can kill me on sight.”

I read it twice. Then a third time.

Somewhere around the third read, the anger in my chest started competing with something else. She’d written this fast. I could tell by the way the letters slanted more with every line, like she couldn’t get the words out quickly enough. Whatever else she was, she wasn’t careless about this.

“Hmph.” I snorted and shoved the letter into my drawer, tucking it beneath a stack of important documents where no one would find it.

She thought one letter would fix this? That a few written promises would make me forgive her just like that?

Not even close.

If she wanted my forgiveness, she’d have to earn it. And more than that, she needed to understand what it felt like to be on the other side. To wonder. To second-guess. To feel that sharp, ugly twist of jealousy eating away at her.

I’d put her in my shoes. Let her see how it felt.

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