Chapter 279 Taking the Initiative

Chapter 279 Taking the Initiative

Ella's POV

His hand left my back and cupped my cheek, his thumb gently stroking my cold skin.

"The plan we just made, the disguise plan, it won't work."

"Why not?" I asked urgently. It was my only lifeline, the only reason I could force myself to stay calm.

"Because of you."

He looked into my eyes, his gaze sharp and direct. "Ella, you're not good at lying. Your eyes will give you away. Every breath, every heartbeat screams 'I know your secret' to him. At dinner, we'll be sitting at the same table. How will you face him when he serves you food, when he smiles at you? How long can you keep it up? A day? An hour?"

His words cut through my fragile facade like a knife, exposing my raw fear.

I couldn't argue. I couldn't do it. I couldn't even imagine facing Owen's concerned face at dinner. I feared I might vomit on the spot or break down completely.

"But... but didn't you say we can't act rashly now?"

I grabbed his arm, my voice pleading. "We don't have enough evidence. That letter might be a trap, a setup to frame him."

The thought felt weak even to me. That mark, Owen had admitted, was the symbol of the head of the family. Who could get that mark to frame him? Unless it was him.

Mason's voice softened as he led me to the couch and sat me down, then crouched in front of me, keeping our eyes level. "I hope it's a misunderstanding too. But we can't rely on hope. We're trapped in his territory, surrounded by his people. We're like moths caught in a web, waiting for the spider to come."

He paused, a cold determination flashing in his blue eyes.

"Waiting passively will only make us more passive, the psychological pressure will build until we break first. Since the disguise won't work, we need a new plan."

"What plan?" My heart was in my throat.

"Take the initiative. We go to him now. Confront him with the letter and ask him what it's about."

My mind went blank.

I stared at him in horror, almost thinking I misheard.

"No! No way!" I blurted out. "Mason, that's too dangerous! We don't know who he really is. If he is... if he is the 'master,' confronting him directly is walking into a trap. He'll kill us!"

"He won't," Mason said with unusual certainty.

"How do you know? How can you be so sure?" I stood up, agitated. "This is his territory! He has countless ways to make us disappear without a trace!"

Mason took my cold hands in his warm ones. "Because you're here. Because you're carrying our child. And because I'm the Alpha of the Silverblade Pack. He can deal with a lone Ella, but he won't easily move against a Luna and Alpha with a powerful pack behind them."

His words were calm and clear, with a strong logic that pierced through my fear-clouded mind.

"Right now, he doesn't dare openly break with the Silverblade Pack. So as long as we're together, as long as we show strength, he won't, he can't act rashly. At least, not openly."

He pulled me back to sit down. "Ella, look at me."

He crouched again, our eyes level. "We storm into his study, throw the letter in his face. This is called 'taking the initiative.' It'll mess up all his plans. He'll be shocked, confused. How did we find out? How much do we know? In his shock and confusion, he's most likely to slip up."

"On the other hand," he continued, "if we choose to endure, to disguise, we hand all the power to him. He can watch us, test us, until he's sure we've discovered his secret. By then, he'll be fully prepared to deal with us. That's when we're in the most danger."

I listened to his analysis, my chaotic thoughts slowly becoming clearer. The fear was still there, like a cold snake coiled in my stomach, but reason told me Mason was right.

I looked back at Mason's face.

He was watching me intently, waiting for my decision. In his eyes, I saw trust, encouragement, and a determination to protect me at all costs. This determination flowed into me like a warm current, filling my cold limbs.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as if to expel all my fear and hesitation.

"Okay." I heard my own voice say, still hoarse but with a hint of resolve. "Let's go to him."

A hint of approval finally appeared on Mason's face.

He stood up and pulled me from the couch.

"Good." He took my hand and then pulled out the small, oilcloth-wrapped envelope from his pocket.

He pressed the fate-deciding package into my hand. "You hold it."

I was stunned. "Me?"

"Yes, you." His gaze was calm as water. "He's your brother. Remember, no matter how he explains, how he disguises, trust your own eyes, trust your judgment. I'll be right by your side."

I gripped the letter, feeling its weight like a thousand pounds, making my knuckles white. I nodded, clutching it tightly.

We didn't waste another second. Mason straightened my slightly messy hair, then opened the door and led me downstairs.

The hallway was empty, only our footsteps muffled on the expensive carpet.

The paintings on the walls, once comforting and familiar, now seemed to watch us with eerie eyes. The decorations that once felt warm and welcoming now exuded a sinister aura.

I could feel Mason's hand holding mine, dry and strong, continuously transferring his strength to me. He walked beside me, his steps steady, his posture upright, shielding me from all invisible pressure.

My mind was blank, all rehearsals, all drafts vanished. I only knew we were heading into an unpredictable battle. And my enemy was someone I once loved and trusted the most.

We reached the study door.

The heavy, intricately carved oak door was tightly closed, blocking everything inside. But I could faintly hear muffled voices behind it. One of them was Owen's, a voice I knew all too well.

Mason looked at me, asking with his eyes if I was ready.

I looked back, squeezed his hand tightly, and then nodded firmly.