Chapter 20 #2
"Ava attacked Leo," Mason announced, addressing the room, his voice calm and authoritative as he moved to stand before the cold fireplace. "Struck him multiple times. Spat in his face."
"I see," Ethan said, his green eyes flickering with something cold—clinical interest, maybe, or anticipation. His fingers steepled beneath his chin, studying me like I was an equation to be solved. "The first real test."
"What are you going to do?" I demanded, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to steady it, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I was sure they could hear it. "Beat me? Lock me in a cage? Starve me?"
"No," Mason replied simply, moving to stand in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes, close enough that his warmth and his scent wrapped around me like a physical embrace. "We're going to teach you."
"Teach me what?" I asked, my hands clenching into fists at my sides, my nails digging crescents into my palms.
"That actions have consequences," Mason explained, his honey-brown eyes holding mine, patient and implacable and utterly certain. "You attacked a member of your pack. You disrespected your bond. So now you're going to learn what happens when you do that."
He nodded at Caleb. Before I could react, massive hands gripped my shoulders from behind, the heat of Caleb's palms burning through my thin shirt.
He spun me around with terrifying ease and pushed me down.
I stumbled, my knees hitting the hardwood floor with a crack that sent pain shooting up my thighs.
Caleb's grip kept me upright when I would have collapsed completely, holding me in place like I was nothing more than a doll.
"What—" I started, panic rising in my throat, my breath coming in short sharp gasps.
"You're going to kneel here," Mason said, his voice calm and patient, as if he were explaining something simple to a child.
He settled onto the leather couch across from me, his posture relaxed and casual, one ankle crossed over his knee.
"In the center of the room. For one hour.
You don't speak unless spoken to. You don't move unless given permission.
You just kneel, and you think about what you did. "
"That's it?" I asked, disbelief bleeding into my voice, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest. "Kneeling?"
"For an hour," Mason confirmed, picking up a leather-bound book from the side table, his movements unhurried. "And if you move, if you speak out of turn, if you try to get up—we start the hour over."
Caleb released my shoulders and moved away, his heavy footsteps crossing to the door where he took up position like a sentinel.
Leo sprawled into an armchair to my left, draping himself over the worn leather with boneless grace, his gray eyes fixed on me with lazy, predatory interest. Ethan remained on the couch, pulling out his tablet, his attention seemingly elsewhere—but I could feel him watching through the bond, cataloguing every reaction.
One hour. It didn't seem so bad.
The first fifteen minutes were easy. Uncomfortable—the hardwood floor was unforgiving against my knees, the wood grain pressing patterns into my skin through my thin sleep pants—but manageable.
I focused on my breathing, on my anger, on how much I hated them.
The late afternoon sun crawled across the floor, warm on my skin where it touched, highlighting the swirling dust motes in the air.
Through the bond, I felt their patience.
Their calm. Their complete and utter certainty that this was right.
The second fifteen minutes were harder. My knees were aching now, sharp pain radiating up my thighs, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
The muscles in my lower back began to protest from holding myself upright.
I shifted slightly, trying to redistribute my weight, trying to ease the pressure on my kneecaps.
"Don't move," Mason said without looking up from his book, his voice mild but firm, turning a page with a soft rustle of paper.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat.
The room was silent except for the tick of a clock I hadn't noticed before, each second stretching into eternity.
Outside, birds sang in the fading light.
Inside, four predators watched their prey suffer.
The third fifteen minutes were agony. My legs had gone numb, then started tingling, then erupted into pins and needles that made me want to scream.
Sweat dripped down my temples, sliding along my jaw, dropping onto my collarbone.
My back ached from holding myself upright, my spine screaming for relief.
The burgundy rug blurred beneath me as tears of pain gathered in my eyes.
They just sat there. Reading. Scrolling.
Watching. Like I was entertainment. Like my suffering was nothing more than a mildly interesting diversion.
The sunlight had shifted, no longer warm on my skin but leaving me in shadow.
The temperature seemed to drop. Or maybe that was just me—my body trembling, goosebumps rising on my arms despite the comfortable cabin air.
"Please," I finally gasped, the word escaping before I could stop it, torn from my throat by desperation. "Please, my legs—"
"That's speaking without permission," Mason said, looking up from his book, his honey-brown eyes meeting mine with calm disappointment. "We start over."
"No," I breathed, horror washing over me like ice water, my stomach dropping. "No, please, I can't—"
"You can," Mason corrected gently, his voice soft but unyielding, brooking no argument. "You will. Because this is what happens when you attack your pack. This is how you learn."
The hour started over.
The second hour was worse than the first. My body had already been pushed to its limits, and now it was being pushed further.
The pins and needles evolved into burning, then into numbness, then back into burning.
I lost track of time. Lost track of everything except the pain and the humiliation and the four pairs of eyes watching me crumble.
Somewhere in the middle of it, I started crying.
Not the angry tears from before, quiet, defeated tears that slid down my cheeks and dripped onto my thighs, darkening the fabric of my sleep pants.
My shoulders shook with the effort of staying still, of not making a sound.
Through the bond, I felt their emotions.
Mason's patient love. Ethan's clinical satisfaction.
Leo's dark amusement. Caleb felt something like pride.
Pride that I was enduring. Pride that I was learning.
I hated them. I hated them so much it burned.
"Time," Mason finally said, closing his book and standing.
The word seemed to echo in the silent room, releasing me from my imprisonment.
He crossed to where I knelt, his footsteps soft on the hardwood, and crouched down so we were eye level.
This close, I could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the slight stubble on his jaw, the genuine concern beneath his calm mask.
"What did you learn?" Mason asked quietly, his honey-brown eyes searching my face. I couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. My legs were screaming, my pride was shattered, and I hated them so much I could taste it, bitter and metallic on my tongue.
"Ava," Mason prompted, his voice patient, his hand reaching out to cup my tear-stained cheek, his thumb brushing away the wetness with impossible gentleness. "What did you learn?"
"That you're bastards," I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying, barely recognizable as my own.
"Besides that," Mason replied, a ghost of a smile crossing his face, something almost like affection warming his eyes.
I swallowed hard, forcing the words out past the lump in my throat. "That... that there are consequences."
"Good girl," Mason murmured, and despite everything, despite the pain and the humiliation and the hatred, something warm flickered in my chest at the praise, a spark of pleasure that made me sick. I hated myself for it. Hated my body for responding to him even now.
"Can you stand?" Mason asked, tilting his head slightly, studying my face.
"I don't know," I admitted, my voice small and broken, childlike in a way that made me cringe.
Mason extended his hand, palm up, waiting.
I stared at it, the same hand that had signed off on my captivity, the same hand that had touched me during my heat, the same hand that belonged to a monster.
His fingers were long and elegant, his palm calloused in places from whatever work he did.
I took it. He pulled me to my feet, and my legs immediately buckled, the muscles refusing to hold my weight, fire shooting through my thighs and calves. Before I could fall, he caught me, sweeping me up into his arms like I weighed nothing, cradling me against his chest.
"Caleb," Mason said, his voice quiet, carrying me toward the hallway. "Prepare the bath. Hot. Epsom salts."
"I can walk," I protested weakly, though we both knew it was a lie. My head lolled against his shoulder, my body too exhausted to hold itself up.
"You can't," Mason replied simply, his arms secure around me, his chest warm against my cheek.
"And that's okay. We'll take care of you.
" He carried me through the cabin, past the kitchen where dinner sat abandoned and cooling, down the hallway lined with photographs I'd never looked at closely.
The bathroom door was already open, steam rising from within, the sound of running water filling the air.
Caleb stood by the tub, testing the temperature with one massive hand, his ice-blue eyes flickering to us as we entered.
The bathroom was warm and humid, fogged mirrors and the scent of eucalyptus from the bath salts.
Mason set me on the edge of the marble counter, his hands gentle as he steadied me, keeping me from slumping over.
"Arms up," Mason instructed, reaching for the hem of my shirt, his fingers brushing against my sides.
"I can undress myself," I said, but my voice lacked conviction, my arms hanging limp at my sides.
"Arms up," Mason repeated patiently, his honey-brown eyes holding mine, waiting.
I raised my arms. He undressed me with clinical efficiency, shirt pulled over my head, pants tugged down my trembling legs, underwear slid off.
His touch was impersonal, careful, nothing like the heat of the claiming.
Just practical care. Just tending to what belonged to him.
Then he lifted me, one arm beneath my knees, the other behind my back, and lowered me into the bath.
The hot water hit my aching muscles and I gasped, a sob escaping my lips, tears springing fresh to my eyes. The heat was almost painful at first, too much sensation on numb flesh—but then my body adjusted, and the relief was so profound I moaned.
"Stay as long as you need," Mason said, settling onto the tile floor beside the tub, his back against the wall, long legs stretched out in front of him.
He looked almost human like this—relaxed, patient, the monster at rest. "Caleb will bring you dinner," Mason continued, his honey-brown eyes soft as he watched me sink deeper into the water.
"I'm not hungry," I mumbled, letting the heat soak into my screaming muscles, letting the water support my exhausted body.
"You'll eat anyway," Mason replied, his voice gentle but firm. "That's the rule."
The rule. Always the rules. I closed my eyes, letting the water rise up to my chin, feeling the pain slowly ease from my legs.
Through the bond, I felt Mason's presence, calm, patient, loving.
He genuinely believed he'd done the right thing.
Genuinely believed this was how to teach me. How to shape me. How to make me theirs.
Maybe that was the worst part of all.
"Leo hurt someone," I said quietly, not opening my eyes, my voice echoing slightly off the tile walls. "He almost killed a man. For touching my hair."
"Yes," Mason agreed, no denial in his voice, no justification. Just acknowledgement, simple and absolute.
"And you're okay with that?" I asked, my voice cracking, turning my head to look at him through the steam.
"I'm okay with protecting what's ours," Mason replied simply, meeting my gaze without flinching. "By any means necessary."
I opened my eyes fully, studying him through the haze of steam. Golden hair, damp now from the humidity. Warm brown eyes, soft and patient. That gentle expression that hid the predator beneath, the wolf wearing the shepherd's smile.
"You're all monsters," I said, and it wasn't an accusation anymore. Just a statement of fact. Water dripped from my hair, sliding down my neck, pooling in the hollow of my throat.
"Yes," Mason agreed, his honey-brown eyes holding mine without wavering. "We are. But we're your monsters, Ava. And we'll do anything…anything…to keep you safe. Even from yourself."
I didn't respond. Just sank deeper into the water, letting the heat and the exhaustion pull me under, letting my eyes drift closed again. Through the bond, I felt their love. Their certainty. Their absolute conviction that they were doing the right thing.
I felt their patience. Underneath it all, buried so deep I almost couldn't sense it, I felt myself starting to break.