39. Mason
CHAPTER 39
Mason
Apparently, Blue Ridge is bigger than I thought.
I never realized how sprawling this town is until we started searching for Chad. The streets feel endless, stretching out like some kind of cruel maze, keeping us from finding him. It’s driving me crazy, and I can feel the tension rolling off Dean in waves beside me. He’s trying to keep it together, but I know him well enough to see that he’s barely holding on.
And me? I’m not doing much better. The bond… it’s there like a low hum vibrating through me. I can feel Chad—his emotions, his pain—but there’s no clear direction, no sense of where he is. Just the raw, jagged edges of how broken he feels. It’s like trying to catch smoke in my hands, and it’s making me almost frantic.
“Can’t you track him with the mark?” Dean asks sharply, his frustration slipping into his voice as he glances over at me. “You’re bonded, right? You should be able to feel where he is.”
I shake my head, trying to steady myself.
“It doesn’t work like that.” My voice comes out more clipped than I mean it to, but I can’t help it. The pressure inside me is building, pushing against my ribs, and it’s all I can do to keep it together. “I’m sorry, man, this is my fault.”
Dean lets out a dry, humorless laugh, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Pretty sure I’m the one he’s running from, not you. I pushed too hard, too fast.”
I drag my fingers through my hair, my messy bun hanging by a thread. “They don’t teach you in school that scent-bound packs can resist the bond like this. They really do make it sound more like a fairytale.”
“Not the kind of fairytale you envisioned, huh?” Dean snorts, the bitterness clear in his voice. This time, I know he’s laughing at me. The mocking edge cuts deeper than I’d like to admit, but I can’t blame him.
“No,” I sigh.
He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches out, broken only by the steady crunch of our footsteps on the gravel and the distant chirping of crickets in the cool night air. The tension between us thrums like a live wire, but neither of us seems willing to break it. We just keep walking, searching, as if the quiet will somehow give us the answers we need.
My gaze sweeps across the park, catching on a pair of figures tucked away in the shadows. My heart stills. Lakelyn. Chad. Relief floods through me, a sense of calm washing over the frantic pulse inside me. At least they’re safe.
But before I can take a step closer, Lakelyn’s head jerks up, her eyes narrowing as they lock onto us. She rises, positioning herself in front of Chad, her body a shield, protective and unyielding. Her stance tells me everything—she’s ready to fight, to defend him, even from us. The tension radiating off her is almost a physical force, and I stop in my tracks, raising my hands slightly to show I’m not a threat.
“Lake,” I call softly, trying to soothe the tension. “It’s just us.”
She doesn’t relax. Her gaze flicks between me and Dean, and she crosses her arms, a barrier between us and Chad. "He doesn’t need this right now,” she warns, her voice firm, layered with an edge of steel.
My beta. My girl. Protecting my omega.
If my heart could leap out of my chest and hand itself over to her, it would. Because if I hadn’t already loved her with every fiber of my being, this moment would’ve sealed it. Watching her stand her ground like this—fierce, loyal, protective—something inside me swells, and I know I’m not just in love with her. I’d give everything for her.
Dean shifts beside me, uneasy, but I don’t care. All I see is Lakelyn standing there with that fire in her eyes, and I realize she’s not just protecting Chad. She’s protecting both of us—Chad from his emotions and me from myself, from pushing too hard.
I take a breath, steadying myself. “I know,” I say softly, my voice cracking slightly as I speak. “But I’m not here to make things harder. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
Lakelyn doesn’t move. Her eyes soften just a little, but her stance doesn’t waver. She’s still a shield between us and Chad, and it makes my chest ache in ways I can’t put into words.
“He’s fine, I’ve got him,” she repeats, her voice quieter now, but no less certain.
My eyes flick over to Chad, still seated on the bench behind her. He’s trembling, and the urge to rush to him claws at my insides. The bitter tang of his perfume hits me hard, a mix of emotions swirling in the air, making it difficult to breathe. I swallow against the tightness in my throat, trying to calm the surge of panic building inside me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice quiet, almost breaking. “For not handling things better. I really fucked it all up.”
I keep my gaze on him, waiting—hoping—for some sign that he’s hearing me. For a second, it feels like my words are hanging in the air, unanswered, but then he lifts his head. His eyes meet mine, glassy with his emotions. But there’s something else there, too. A flicker of fire, a hope that hasn’t been extinguished.
His gaze shifts to Dean, locking onto him with a silent intensity. They stare at each other for a long moment, something unspoken passing between them. Dean straightens as if he’s about to step forward, but before he can make a move, Lakelyn steps in his way.
She’s not willing to waiver.
Her body language is unmistakable—a barrier, a clear message. She might not be an alpha, but at this moment, it’s as if she’s staking her claim. She’s saying, he’s mine, and I’ll only share if he wants to share.
Dean pauses, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface, but he doesn’t push it. He just stares at Lakelyn like he’s trying to figure out whether to argue or accept that she’s not budging.
Before the tension can thicken further, Chad slowly rises from the bench. He stands tall, his trembling replaced by a quiet strength. He steps next to Lakelyn, positioning himself beside her, shoulder to shoulder, facing both Dean and me. Their fingers tangle together, and I can see the decision in his steady gaze before he opens his mouth.
“No, Alpha,” Chad’s voice is calm, though I can feel the pulse of his fear through the bond, tugging at me. “I’m the one that fucked things up.”
His gaze flickers between us—between me and Dean—as if he’s trying to find the right words. His lips part slightly, then close again, and for a brief moment, I see the vulnerability behind the wall he’s built. The uncertainty he’s been fighting all this time. But there’s also something else—something stronger—shining through.
“I need to be honest,” he says finally, his voice low but strong. “I’m not sure what I feel about all this. About finding out that we’re a scent-bound pack.”
His words hang there, and even though it feels like a punch to the gut, I nod, understanding. I’m almost positive this is the first time I’ve seen the real Chad, raw and vulnerable, his mask nowhere to be seen. It makes me want to gather him in my arms and tell him everything will be okay.
“I want this,” Chad continues, his gaze drifting to me before flicking to Dean. “More than I’ve wanted anything in my life. I want a pack… us . But I’m also scared. Afraid that it will crumble at my feet before it even starts. Afraid that I will screw it up like I screw everything up.”
The bond between us throbs with his fear, a deep, aching pulse that makes my chest tighten and my legs demand that I move. Demanding that I hold him. I can feel how much he’s struggling to keep his composure, to hold himself together in front of us. It nearly undoes me, knowing he’s feeling this much.
“I just need time,” Chad admits, his voice quieter now, but no less certain. “Time to figure it all out. To figure out how to handle this—how to handle us ?—”
Lakelyn’s hand squeezes his fingers, grounding him, but she doesn’t speak. She knows this moment is his. He’s claiming it, even as he asks for space.
Dean shifts, clearly fighting the urge to say something, but he remains silent. His jaw clenches, and his eyes harden for a second before softening again.
“Take your time,” I finally say, my voice steady despite the ache inside me. “We’ll be here.”