Chapter 107 The Morning After

Chapter 107 The Morning After
The sun was a liar.

It streamed through the curtains the next morning, bright and cheerful, promising a beautiful day. For a few drowsy minutes, I allowed myself to believe it.

I lay in the tangle of sheets, my body aching in a way that felt delicious rather than painful. Abel was still asleep beside me, one arm thrown possessively over my waist. He looked younger when he slept. The lines of stress around his mouth were smoothed out. The Alpha mask was gone.

I reached out and brushed a stray lock of dark hair from his forehead. The bond hummed, a low, contented purr in the back of my mind.

Then, the bedroom door opened.

Abel was awake instantly. He didn't groggy-wake; he combat-woke. In a split second, he was sitting up, his body shielding mine, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

It was Oliver.

The Beta stood in the doorway, holding a tray of coffee. He didn't apologize for the intrusion. He just set the tray down on the dresser with a heavy sigh.

"Good morning," Oliver said, his voice flat. "I hate to ruin the moment, but we have a situation."

Abel rubbed his face, the growl fading into a groan. He pulled the sheet up to cover me. "Define situation. Did the power go out again?"

"No," Oliver said. "The power is on. The pack is fed. But the blockade is still there. The accounts are still frozen. And we have a visitor."

"Who?" Abel asked, reaching for his coffee.

"The Council sent a 'Mediator,'" Oliver said grimly. "To interview Evelyn. To determine if she is truly being held against her will."

"A mediator?" I asked, sitting up. "That sounds... fair."

"It would be," Oliver said, looking at me with genuine fear. "If they hadn't sent her."

"Who?" Abel demanded.

"Margaret Hellboud."

The name hit the room like a bomb.

Abel froze, the cup halfway to his mouth. "She's here?"

"Her motorcade is at the gate. We can't refuse her entry, Abel. She has a Council Warrant."

Abel swore, slamming the cup down so hard coffee splashed onto the wood.

"Get dressed," Abel ordered, jumping out of bed. "Evie, wear something formal. High neck. Long sleeves. Do not let her see you sweat."

Twenty minutes later, we stood in the grand foyer.

The heavy double doors swung open.

Margaret Hellboud did not walk; she glided. She wore a tailored cream suit that I recognized, the same style she had worn the day she threatened me at the café months ago. Her silver hair was perfect, her mismatched eyes cold as ice.

She didn't look around. She didn't marvel at the architecture. She looked at me with the bored distaste of someone inspecting a stain on a rug.

"Abel Stone," she said, her voice like wind chimes made of bone. "You look tired."

"Margaret," Abel nodded stiffly. "To what do I owe the displeasure?"

"We are here to clean up your mess," Margaret said, peeling off her leather gloves finger by finger. She turned her gaze to me.

I felt a phantom icy finger trace my spine.

"Evelyn," she said. No smile. No greeting. Just my name, spoken like a curse. "Still causing trouble, I see. I told you what would happen if you didn't learn your place."

I stiffened, Abel’s hand tightening on my lower back. "Leave her alone."

"Oh, hush, boy," Margaret waved a hand dismissively at Abel. "She is my daughter-in-law. My problem. And she has been a very naughty girl."

She gestured to the parlor. "Shall we? The cameras are waiting outside, and I have a schedule to keep."

We sat in the formal parlor. The tension was suffocating. Margaret sat on the velvet sofa, sipping tea as if she weren't holding our lives in her manicured hands.

"The situation is untenable," Margaret began. "The human press is sniffing around. Kane is... agitated. You made him look weak yesterday, Evelyn. Turning the lights back on? A cheap parlor trick."

"It saved lives," I said firmly.

"It embarrassed my son," Margaret corrected sharply. "And now the Council wants this story dead. Kane offers a trade."

"We don't want a compromise," Abel growled.

"You have no money, Abel," Margaret reminded him. "You have food for two weeks. After that? Your pack starves."

She leaned forward, her eyes locking onto mine.

"Here is the deal. Evelyn comes to 'Serenity Hills', our private medical facility. She will undergo a two-week evaluation. If the doctors deem her sane, the restraining order is lifted. The assets are unfrozen immediately."

"Serenity Hills is a prison," I said. "I go in, I never come out. You threatened to put my mother there."

"It is a hospital," Margaret said innocently. "And frankly, it is your only option. Because if you refuse..."

She stood up and walked over to me. Abel tensed, ready to strike, but she held up a hand.

"A private word, with my daughter-in-law?" she asked.

Abel looked at me. I nodded slightly. I can handle her.

Margaret leaned down. She brought her lips close to my ear. She smelled of lavender and rotting lilies.

"You think you won last night," she whispered, so low only I could hear. "But you forgot what we discussed at the café. You are a battery, Evelyn. And batteries work both ways."

I held my breath.

"Kane has been feeding on your pain. But tonight? He is preparing a ritual to feed into you. He is going to push his own corruption down the bond. If you are near Abel when he does it... the backlash will kill your Alpha instantly. It will burn his heart out of his chest."

She pulled back, her eyes gleaming with malice.

"Stay here, and Abel dies tonight. Surrender to me, and I will sever the connection before the ritual begins. I will save him."

She straightened up, smoothing her skirt.

"So," Margaret said aloud, turning back to a confused Abel. "What will it be, Evelyn? Do you trust us to evaluate you? Or do you want to stay and watch the consequences unfold?"

I looked at Abel. He looked strong. He looked ready to fight the world for me.

But he didn't know the bomb was already inside the house. It was inside me.

"I'll go," I said.

"No!" Abel roared, lunging forward.

"Abel, stop!" I shouted, holding up my hand. "I’ll go. Two weeks. I can do two weeks."

"Evie, don't listen to her," Abel pleaded, grabbing my hands. "Whatever she said, it's a lie."

"It's not a lie," I whispered, squeezing his fingers one last time. "I have to do this. For the pack. For you."

I looked at Margaret.

"I'm ready," I said, my voice dead.

"Excellent," Margaret smiled, her eyes glittering with victory. "The car is waiting. Try not to make a scene this time."