CHAPTER 131:The Choice
EMMANUELLE
Was I dreaming?
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
I stood frozen by my desk, my heart slamming against my ribs as if it could break through and run to him before I did.
Then his face.
Adam.
My Adam.
He stood at the doorway like a memory I’d buried too deep, like a ghost I’d never stopped mourning. His eyes locked with mine, and just like that, the dam broke. Tears rushed down my cheeks, blurring the edges of everything but him.
I didn’t think. My heels clicked loudly across the marble floor as I ran, then lifted off entirely as I threw myself into his arms. My arms wrapped around his neck. My legs curled around his waist. My fists beat weakly against his chest as I sobbed.
"Why did you leave me?" I cried, voice cracking, raw. "Why did you disappear without a word? Without goodbye?"
He held me tighter, burying his face in the curve of my neck. His scent hit me woodsy, warm, him and every lonely night I’d spent without him came rushing back.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against my skin. “I won’t leave again.”
I pulled back just enough to see his face. “Are you sure? I need to hear you say it.”
He nodded slowly, brushing his thumb over my damp cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
ADAM
The receptionist barely looked at me when she nodded toward the hallway. “You can go in now,” she said, her voice neutral. But I saw the flicker of surprise in her eyes.
Maybe I didn’t look like someone who deserved to walk back into Emmanuelle’s life.
Maybe I wasn’t.
My feet moved before my courage could catch up. With every step, my chest tightened. The door to her office felt heavier than it should. Like a door to another lifetime.
I pushed it open.
And there she was.
Time stopped.
Emmanuelle stood behind her desk, frozen, a stack of papers forgotten in her hands. The moment her eyes met mine, her whole body shifted. Her lips parted. Her breath caught.
Then she ran.
She didn’t walk or hesitate. She didn’t ask if I was real. She just ran straight into me, like gravity had yanked her across the room.
I barely had time to open my arms before she leapt into them.
I caught her, like I always would.
Her scent hit me first familiar, overwhelming, like home after a storm. She clung to me, arms tight around my neck, legs wrapping around my waist, her weight grounding me like nothing else ever could.
I buried my face in her hair and exhaled for the first time in what felt like years. “I knew you’d do that,” I whispered, a crooked smile tugging at my lips.
But it didn’t last.
Her hand balled into a fist and pressed against my chest. Not a punch, not really. More like a wound begging to bleed. “Why?” she gasped through tears. “Why did you leave me like that, Adam? Why didn’t you say goodbye?”
Each word sliced deeper than the last.
I pulled her closer, wishing I could erase every second of the pain I’d caused her. “I’m sorry,” I whispered against her temple. “I thought I was protecting you… but I was wrong. I’ll never leave again. Not ever.”
She clung tighter, like letting go might shatter whatever fragile reality had brought me back.
“Promise me,” she said. Her voice trembled with fear she couldn’t hide. “Promise you won’t disappear again.”
I rested my forehead against hers. “I promise.”
She finally loosened her grip and slid down from my arms, her feet touching the floor like she wasn’t sure it was real. Her hands still held onto my shirt, wrinkled from her grip.
Then she looked up at me really looked and her brows pinched together.
“You look…” Her gaze roamed over my face. “You look good. But I look like hell, don’t I?”
I frowned. “You look beautiful.”
She snorted, brushing tears from her cheeks. “I’ve been buried in work, trying to forget you. Trying not to fall apart. Clearly, I failed.”
Guilt twisted inside me, sharp and brutal.
“I’m sorry I caused that,” I said. “You shouldn’t have had to carry that weight.”
She stared at me for a moment, searching, as if trying to find the part of me that broke her heart and the part that still held it.
“Why did you leave?” she asked again, softer this time. “The truth, Adam. I need to know.”
I took a shaky breath. My hands trembled, so I shoved them into my pockets.
“The night I left,” I said slowly, “I found out something about us. About you.”
Her head tilted, confusion flickering in her eyes.
“You’re my mate, Emmanuelle.”
Silence.
Then laughter.
Real, loud, disbelieving laughter.
She threw her head back and laughed like I’d just made a joke. “Adam,” she said between breaths, “I’m human. You’re a werewolf. This isn’t Twilight. I can’t be your mate.”
I didn’t smile.
“That's what I thought too,” I said quietly. “But it’s real.”
Her laughter faded. Her smile faltered.
“You’re serious?” she whispered.
I reached for her hand hesitant, gentle and turned her palm upward. My fingers laced through hers.
Then I let the bond flare.
The mark shimmered softly between our skin, glowing gold like a pulse made of light, threads weaving from my hand to hers in a silent, ancient truth.
Her breath hitched.
She yanked her hand back like she’d touched fire.
I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. I just let her feel it.
Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow gasps. Her eyes were wide staring at the space where our hands had been. At the place where the glow had faded, but not the meaning.
She was shaking.
And I understood. I remembered how it felt the first time. Like being rewritten from the inside out.
“Emmanuelle,” I said gently, “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t even understand it myself. That’s why I left. I thought staying away would protect you.”
She didn’t respond.
She just stood there silent, still while the truth settled around her like snowfall in spring.
I didn’t blame her. She was shaken. I had been too when I first felt it.