Chapter 277 Suspecting Owen

Chapter 277 Suspecting Owen

Ella's POV

The forest was eerily quiet, with only the rustling of leaves in the wind, like countless whispers conspiring around me. The fog of conspiracy hadn't lifted; it had thickened, grown colder, trapping me in its center.

And this time, standing at the heart of it all, was Owen, my own flesh and blood.

"We gotta get outta here," Mason's deep voice cut through my chaotic thoughts. There wasn't a hint of panic in his tone, just a cold, almost ruthless decisiveness.

He let go of me but kept a steady hand on my arm to keep me from falling again.

He folded the letter back up, tucked it into the oilcloth pouch, and prepared to take the small package with us.

"We have to act like nothing happened."

He looked at me, his blue eyes more serious than I'd ever seen them. "Now, more than ever, we need to blend in."

I nodded numbly, my mind blank, passively absorbing his instructions.

Blend in? How was I supposed to blend in? How could I go back to the manor and face Owen's kind, concerned face, and smile naturally, after just learning that my only family might be the one trying to kill me?

My body trembled uncontrollably, my teeth chattering.

Mason noticed my state and sighed, his voice softening a bit. "Look at me, Ella."

I lifted my eyes to meet his. His gaze was firm and strong, like two hands pulling my scattered thoughts back together.

"I know this is hard to accept," he said. "I can't even imagine how you feel right now. But we're in enemy territory. Any sign of something being off could be our undoing."

He paused, placing a hand on my abdomen, where our shared secret and hope lay. "For the sake of our child, and for ourselves, you have to stay strong. At least until we're safe."

His words, the warmth of his hand, and the mention of our child were like a shot of adrenaline, warming my cold body.

The frigid air stung my lungs but also cleared my head a bit. I nodded firmly, this time with a hint of determination in my eyes.

"I... I understand," I said hoarsely.

"Good." Mason's face showed a hint of approval.

He took my hand, wrapping my cold fingers in his warm palm. "We'll retrace our steps, make some noise, and let the guards find us. We'll say we slipped down a slope and got lost."

It was a simple and plausible excuse.

The way back felt a hundred times longer than the way in. Every step was like walking on knives, painful and torturous. Owen's image kept fracturing and reforming in my mind.

On one side was the Owen who made my favorite desserts, who comforted me gently, who proudly introduced me to the pack as "my sister Ella." His smile, his care, all those warm moments were vivid in my memory.

On the other side was the mark, the letter, the cold title of "Master," the massive, bloody conspiracy Leo and the guards spoke of. The chilling phrases like "the witch returns, the bloodline awakens."

These two completely different images clashed in my mind, tearing at my nerves.

I desperately tried to find excuses for him. Maybe the mark was forged? Maybe someone stole it to frame him? Maybe... maybe there was another family member with the same mark that I didn't know about?

But every possibility seemed weak against the cold reality. Owen had said himself that only the family head could use it. The mark was a symbol of power.

My heart felt like it was soaked in bitter water, each breath painful. I started to uncontrollably recall every moment with him, trying to find even the slightest flaw in his warm facade.

Did he bring me back to the pack out of sibling love, or because I was the witch?

Was his affection and protection genuine, or was it to make me lower my guard and willingly become part of his plan? Did he familiarize me with the territory out of kindness, or was it preparation for some ritual?

It seemed he was the one who let the witch escape during the battle at Moonshadow Glade Pack.

The more I thought, the colder I felt. Those details that once moved me now seemed tainted with sinister calculation.

He was like a master hunter, using the warmest bait, patiently waiting for me, the foolish prey, to step into his trap.

"Stop thinking about it," Mason's voice cut through my thoughts again. He squeezed my hand. "Without more evidence, any speculation is just torturing yourself. What we need now is to stay calm and observe."

I looked up at him, the sunlight filtering through the leaves casting dappled shadows on his chiseled face. He was always like this, maintaining absolute composure and clarity no matter how dire the situation. This calmness was what I needed most right now.

"But, Mason," my voice choked with emotion, "if... if it really is him, what do I do? Owen is my brother."

Mason stopped and turned to face me.

He lifted his other hand, gently wiping away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen.

"Ella," his voice was incredibly serious, "if he is the mastermind, if he wants to harm you, use you, then he's just an enemy. An enemy I will eliminate at any cost to protect you."

There was no hesitation in his words, and his resolve shook me. I knew he meant every word.

This realization brought me immense comfort but also a sharp pain. I couldn't imagine what it would be like if Mason and Owen ever stood on opposite sides, facing off in a bloody confrontation.

We made some deliberate noise, and soon, the anxious shouts of the two guards came from nearby. Seeing us "emerge" from the bushes, looking disheveled, they visibly relaxed.