Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Each time Rowen looked into Mason’s eyes, the world slowed.
Her breath caught, her pulse tripped. While something raw and undeniable called to her, lured her.
It was a pull that went deeper. Was dangerous.
Irresistible. She knew she should guard herself, wrap her heart in steel.
Instead, she leaned in, drawn closer each time…
aching for something she couldn’t afford to want.
She had seen him at his most vulnerable—the fear, the anger, and the rigid determination.
His blood had coated her hands and arms. She had stripped him and seen his remarkable, mouth-watering body.
She had felt the heat of his gaze when she used her magic on him.
It was a level of closeness that she hadn’t shared with another before, and it connected them in ways that could never be severed.
His injuries had exposed him, giving her a glimpse of his true self.
It was a time when few could hold up the masks they wore.
She knew nothing about Mason, and maybe because of that, she went in without preconceived notions.
Over the years, she had seen people act in every way imaginable while wounded.
Mason’s unyielding and unwavering resolve to get to Ferne had shown Rowen the man he was.
Someone cleared their throat. Mason’s gaze darted to the side. She dropped hers to the ground in an attempt to get a hold of her rioting emotions. When she looked up, Carlyle was at the door, studying them.
Mason gave her a nod, letting her know it was okay to enter.
She eyed the structure. There was something different about it.
She swallowed and stepped over the threshold, her wet sneakers sinking into an expensive-looking rug in the entrance.
A quick look confirmed that others still had their shoes on, but she would feel better if she had someplace to wipe off any dirt.
The place was immaculate. It held an old-world feel that hinted at generations of families, magic, and untold happenings within its walls.
The decor was a curious but beautiful mix of modern and old.
The wood paneling gleamed, and the hanging art was breathtaking.
She caught sight of a grand staircase that switch-backed up to the floors above, and Rowen had the urge to race up it to explore.
If she were a child, she would’ve been up those stairs quicker than anyone could’ve grabbed her.
Suddenly, a woman in light gray sweats, fuzzy pink socks, and a navy sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder that read Namaste appeared. Her brunette hair was piled in a messy bun atop her head, and she rubbed her eyes. “I’m finally finished with the design.”
“Just in time for our guests,” said a male voice with a thick Scottish brogue.
Rowen looked to her right to see the man in question heading toward the stairs. He lowered his head of dark blond hair and greeted the woman with a quick kiss before she turned to them.
A smile split her face, her hazel eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Mason,” she said as she walked to them.
“You and Ferne share a striking resemblance.” Then those hazel eyes slid to Rowen.
“And you must be Rowen. It’s good to finally meet you both.
I’m Bronwyn. This is my home. Please, make yourselves comfortable. ”
Mason dipped his head. “Thank you for the hospitality.”
“Yes, thank you,” Rowen replied.
“Finally, another American,” came a voice behind Bronwyn.
Bronwyn chuckled. “Get ready. You’re about to be inundated with a lot of names and faces.”
She wasn’t wrong. Rowen did a better job of keeping track of everyone here than she had in London.
She met Sabryn from DC, and her partner, Kurt, the hacker.
Bronwyn was quick to tug Elias to them. An Asian beauty introduced herself as Song, Carlyle’s partner.
Then there was Elias’s sister, Elodie, and Scott.
Willa, Scott’s sister, and Jasper were next.
Ariah was there with someone Rowen thought was Finn because of the Irish accent, but it turned out to be Killian.
Finn popped in next. There was also Kirsi, Filip, and Callum, but what threw her for a loop was Willa and Scott’s father, Luke, as well as Elias and Elodie’s mother, Emily.
“Rowen’s eyes have glazed over,” Kurt said, getting a laugh from everyone.
Song grinned. “I still have the spreadsheet I made with everyone on it. I’ll lend it to you if you need it.”
“I think I might need it,” Mason said.
Rowen heard the lightness in his voice, but he stood rigid beside her. She tipped her lips into a grin and nodded. Carlyle, she noticed, hadn’t said anything to Mason since their encounter outside. Ferne wore her worry on her brow, and Theo stayed near her, offering comfort.
There were many Druids around Rowen, the ages ranging from a handful of years younger than her to several decades older. Everyone was jovial, but there was also an undercurrent of unease that no amount of lighthearted talk could hide.
It was Mason and her against everyone else. They may not say that, but everyone knew it for what it was. Rowen fought against the need to inch closer to Mason. She would be a fool not to be a little fearful of those around her. But what amped up that worry was the way Ferne looked at her brother.
“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” Bronwyn said as she started to the side.
No one followed her. Rowen glanced at Mason. He gave her a barely discernible dip of his chin, so Rowen swallowed her disquiet and trailed after Bronwyn into what she supposed was a parlor. The room was spacious with ample seating for all.
The mix of modern and old continued in this room, as well.
The large windows let in natural light while giant pictures hung on the walls.
Rowen chose a settee with room enough for one other person.
To her relief, Mason sat beside her. The others filed into the room.
Despite her initial thought that there was enough seating for everyone, a few had to stand.
One chair was left vacant. The answer to who it had been saved for came a second later when a pretty woman with long, red hair entered the house and walked into the room.
Mason got to his feet as the woman approached. Rowen guessed she was around her age and reached for her magic as she observed Mason and the woman.
“Rhona,” he said.
She stared at Mason for a long time before inclining her head. “Mason. Thank you for agreeing to speak with us.”
Rowen tensed when the Druid leader’s green eyes turned to her. She waited, unsure of what to expect from Rhona.
“I’m eager to hear about your journey, as well, Rowen,” Rhona said.
Once Rhona sank into the chair, Mason lowered himself back onto the cushion beside Rowen. He sat close enough that his thigh brushed against hers. Some of the tension left her at having him near.
“Where would you like me to begin?” Mason asked.
Rhona crossed one leg over the other. “The beginning is always best.”
Rowen sat silently as Mason gave them the same brief overview that he had given her about growing up training alongside Carlyle with his father. He touched on his mother being an elder, his father’s high rank within the London Druids, and how life had been good.
“Then came the plane crash,” Mason stated.
Rowen’s gaze instinctively went to Ferne in time to see her flinch. It wouldn’t matter how much time passed. That pain would linger for both of the siblings.
“I wasn’t suspicious at first,” Mason continued. “I was too shocked at losing both my parents, and my main concern was Ferne. We went through the motions and got through the burial, and then we grieved.”
His gaze moved to Ferne, and the two shared a long look. Theo covered Ferne’s hand with his and brought it to his lips to kiss her knuckles as Mason drew in a deep breath. Every eye in the room was on him, but he didn’t seem fazed by it.
“My father served as a pilot in the Royal Air Force. He knew planes, and he knew his like the back of his hand. He never would have taken it up if there had even been a hint of something being wrong. I had resigned myself to it being a freak accident, right up until the report from the Air Accidents Investigation Branch concluded that it was pilot error, claiming improper pre-flight procedure.”
Rowen could feel the anger radiating from Mason. He kept his hands resting casually on his legs, but the more he spoke, the lower his voice pitched. She wanted to reach out and touch him, offer comfort. She would have if they had been alone.
Mason paused. “The report wrote off their deaths—and the wreckage that followed—on Dad, but he was obsessive and precise about that plane. I knew the report for the lie it was, but when I questioned it, I was ignored. I leaned hard on the AAIB, using my influence and even my title, to no avail.”
Title? Had he just said title? Rowen frowned, wanting to ask what he had meant, but there wasn’t time to interrupt his story.
“I even turned to our family’s closest friend.
” Mason slid his gaze to Carlyle. “Thomas. Your father promised to look into it, and when he didn’t get anything, we both went to the elders.
” He shook his head, his nostrils flaring as his face hardened.
“The elders studiously read over the report, and even took notes as I spoke. I honestly thought they would be able to do something. But there was nothing but silence in the weeks and months that followed. I can’t tell you the exact moment I began to suspect a cover-up within the organization, but once the thought took root, I couldn’t let it go.
If they could kill an elder without consequences, then they could take out anyone. ”
A shiver ran down Rowen’s spine. She had seen the London Druids for herself. Had felt how off everything had been. And she would be happy to never see any of them again.
“What did you do?” Elias asked.
Mason blinked, his mouth relaxing as if he were shaking free of the memories.
“I began to dig into the days and weeks leading up to the crash. I needed to know my parents’ movements down to the minute.
They went to London for a usual gathering and stayed in the city for a couple of meetings since Mum was an elder.
It wasn’t until I scoured my father’s texts that I found one written in some sort of code.
I couldn’t decipher it and was loath to reach out for help.
I didn’t know who I could trust and who I couldn’t.
So, I dove into everything I could find about coding and decoding messages.
Months later, I was still stumped. It was only after Ferne and I finally cleaned out their room that I found a small notebook tucked away in Dad’s closet.
Inside, I found everything I needed to decode the message. ”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ferne demanded, hurt furrowing her brow.
It was Theo who said, in a soft voice, “You know why, love.”
Rowen moved her hand over so that it rested half on Mason’s leg and half on hers.
He hadn’t opened up completely, but he had done enough for everyone in the room to understand just how deep his outrage and pain went.
He had stood alone against the behemoth that was the London Druids, shouldering everything on his own—and he was still standing.
She had meant it earlier when she told him that he could make a difference.
He was the kind of individual who could inspire others to join a cause and continue when there was no hope.
He was the kind of man who could bring about the type of change that so desperately needed to happen.
And finally get to the truth of his parents’ murders.
Rowen didn’t know why she had been granted a front-row seat to all of this, but she had.
It would be easy to return home and let things fall where they would in the UK, and she doubted anyone would blame her if she left.
And while it might be safer for her now, what about in the long run?
She had always followed her heart, and it had led her to Mason that night.
It had urged her to help him get away and brought her to Skye.
She was meant to be here. With the Skye Druids.
With Mason.
So, she would stay. Even though she still didn’t know the entirety of what she was getting involved in.