Chapter 15 Stella's Rage
Stella's nails rake across my stomach one more time, and I feel something shift inside me. Something that makes my blood run cold.
"No," I whisper. "No, no, no..."
And then I hear it. Footsteps. Running footsteps, pounding up the stairs toward my room.
The door flies open.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Mason.
Mason is standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock as he takes in the scene before him. Me on the floor, covered in blood and scratches. Stella above me, her hands stained red, her face twisted with rage.
For one perfect moment, I think he'll see the truth. I think he'll understand what Stella has done, what she's tried to do.
But then Stella starts to cry.
And I watch my hope die.
The moment Mason appears in the doorway, Stella transforms.
It's like watching a switch flip. One second she's a creature of pure rage, her hands literally dripping with my blood as she crouches over me like a predator over prey. The next, she's stumbling backward, her face crumpling, tears streaming down her perfect cheeks.
"Mason!" Her voice breaks on his name. "Thank the Goddess you're here!"
I'm still on the floor, gasping for breath, my hands pressed protectively over my stomach where her nails have left angry red furrows. Blood seeps between my fingers. My face burns where she clawed me. Every part of me hurts.
"What happened?" Mason's voice is sharp with command as he strides into the room. But his eyes—his eyes go to Stella first. Always to Stella.
"She attacked me!" Stella sobs, and I watch in horror as she drags her own nails down her face, creating fresh scratches that well with blood. "I came to check on her because I heard crying, and she just—she lost it! Started screaming about how I stole you from her!"
"That's not—" I try to speak, but my voice comes out as a ragged whisper. "She's lying—"
"Look at me!" Stella gestures to her self-inflicted wounds, her torn clothes—and I realize with sick certainty that she tore them herself in those few seconds before Mason entered. "Look what she did! She's completely unhinged!"
Mason's eyes finally land on me, and what I see there makes my blood run cold. Not concern. Not compassion. Suspicion.
"Sage." His voice has gone flat. Alpha flat. "Get up."
I try. My legs shake as I push myself upright, one hand still clutching my stomach, the other braced against the floor. Blood drips from my face onto the hardwood.
"Mason, please." I'm begging now, all pride abandoned. "She's lying. She attacked me. She found my bag, found out I was planning to leave, and she—"
"You were planning to leave?" His eyes narrow. "To abandon your pack without permission?"
The accusation in his voice cuts deeper than Stella's nails ever could.
"I was going to talk to Alpha Reeves, I swear. I just needed—"
"She was going to sneak away like a coward!" Stella interjects, her voice rising with manufactured hysteria. "Because she can't stand seeing us happy! She's obsessed with you, Mason. Completely obsessed!"
"I'm not—"
"Then explain this!" Stella snatches my backpack from where it fell, dumping the contents again. Clothes, supplies, money—all the evidence of my planned escape scatters across the floor. "Explain why you're hoarding food and cash like you're planning to run away in the middle of the night!"
Mason stares at the supplies, his jaw tight. I can see him processing, evaluating, and with each passing second, I watch him believe Stella's version of events more and more.
"She came at me with her claws out," Stella continues, her tears flowing freely now. "Screaming about how I don't deserve to be Luna. How she should have been your mate. She's completely delusional, Mason. Dangerous."
"Sage." Mason's voice is ice. "Is this true?"
"No!" The word comes out as a sob. "She's the dangerous one! She's been hurting me for months—the bruises I showed you, the threats, everything! And tonight when she found out I was leaving, she lost control—"
"I lost control?" Stella's laugh is razor-sharp. "You're the one covered in blood! You're the one who attacked me!"
"Because you were trying to—" I cut myself off just in time. I can't tell him about the baby. Not like this. Not when he already thinks I'm lying about everything else.
"Trying to what?" Mason demands. "Finish your sentence, Sage."
I close my mouth, pressing my lips together. My hands are still covering my stomach, protecting the secret that could either save me or condemn me.
"She can't," Stella says triumphantly. "Because she knows it's all lies. She attacked me out of jealousy and now she's trying to blame me for defending myself."
Mason is looking at me with an expression I've never seen before. Disappointment. Disgust. Like I'm something dirty that he's discovered in his home.
"Let me see your hands, Sage."
It's a command, spoken with Alpha authority that makes my wolf whimper. Slowly, I extend my hands, palms up.
They're covered in blood. My blood, from trying to protect my face and stomach. But to someone who doesn't know the truth, it could easily look like I'm the attacker.
"And yours, Stella."
Stella holds out her hands without hesitation. They're also bloody, but in the chaos, she's managed to make herself look like the victim. Scratches on her arms that she clearly inflicted herself. A torn nail that she probably broke deliberately.
"I was just defending myself," she whimpers. "I didn't want to hurt her, but she wouldn't stop—"
"Enough." Mason's voice cuts through the room like a blade. "Both of you, stop talking."
Silence falls. Heavy and oppressive.
I watch Mason's face, searching desperately for any sign that he might doubt Stella's story. Any hint that he might remember our years of friendship, might remember that I've never been violent, never been aggressive.
But all I see is a hardening resolve. A decision being made.
"Sage." He doesn't look at me as he speaks. "You're confined to this room until I decide what to do with you. You don't leave. You don't speak to anyone. Am I understood?"
"Mason, please—"
"AM I UNDERSTOOD?" The Alpha command in his voice drives me to my knees. I physically can't resist it.
"Yes, Alpha." The words taste like ash.
"Good." He turns to Stella, and his voice immediately softens. "Come on. Let's get you to the pack doctor. Those scratches need to be treated."
"What about her?" Stella gestures to me, still kneeling on the floor. "What if she tries to run?"
"She won't." Mason's eyes finally meet mine, and they're cold as winter. "Because if she does, I'll hunt her down myself and drag her back to face pack justice. Won't I, Sage?"
Pack justice. The words chill me to my core. Pack justice for attacking the Luna could mean anything from public punishment to banishment to—in extreme cases—execution.
"I didn't attack her," I whisper one more time. "Please, Mason. You know me. You've known me your whole life. When have I ever—"
"I thought I knew you." His voice is quiet now, which somehow makes it worse. "But the Sage I knew would never pack a bag and try to abandon her pack without a word. The Sage I knew would never let jealousy turn her violent."
"It wasn't jealousy! It was survival! She's been—"
"I said enough." He takes Stella's arm, guiding her toward the door. "We'll discuss this tomorrow when you've calmed down."
"Mason!" I'm on my feet now, stumbling toward them despite the pain radiating through my body. "You have to believe me! She's lying! About everything!"
But Mason doesn't turn around. He just leads
Stella out of my room, closing the door firmly behind them.
I hear the click of a lock.
I'm trapped.