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Mason's POV

I can feel the tension tightening in my chest every time I look at her. Bethany.

She hasn't been the same since that damn gift from Adrian. I saw it in her eyes—something shifted. She's not entirely mine anymore. Maybe she never was.

And that pissed me off more than anything.

"Bethany," I call from across the room, my voice tight with frustration. She's sitting at her desk, her fingers dancing across the keyboard, ignoring me. Typical.

I can't even stand the thought of Adrian being around her. He doesn't belong here. He doesn't belong near her.

"Bethany," I repeat, walking over to her, every step louder, more purposeful. She's looking at the screen, acting like she didn't hear me, but I know she did.

"Are you deaf now too, or are you ignoring me on purpose?"

Her eyes flick up to meet mine, but she doesn't say anything.

I grip the back of her chair, forcing her to look at me. "What the hell is going on with you? This little game you're playing—"

She sighs. "Mason, not now."

I snap, fury boiling in my veins. "Not now? Not now? You think this is just some little game, Bethany? You don't get to ignore me whenever it suits you."

Her lips press into a thin line. She doesn't answer.

I hate that silence. Hate how it lingers between us, a growing wall I can't tear down.

"You're coming with me tonight," I say suddenly, the words leaving my mouth before I can stop them.

Her brow furrows. "What? I'm busy, Mason. I have work—"

"It doesn't matter," I interrupt. "You'll make time. Tonight's important. I need you there. And you will be there."

I wait for her to protest again, to make one of her usual excuses, but she doesn't. Instead, she just nods, a small, defeated gesture that only stokes the fire in me further.

"I'm not asking you, Bethany," I growl. "I'm telling you. You'll be at that meeting. No more excuses."

***

The meeting is late. The pack is already assembled when I walk in, but there's an undercurrent of unease. The members sense something, just like I do. And I can feel their eyes on me, feel the way they wait for something to break.

When I glance over at Bethany, she's standing near the door, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. I almost can't look at her. She's been acting so distant lately. Almost like she's afraid of me.

I push that thought aside. I can't afford to dwell on that right now.

"We're here to discuss the pack's future," I announce, my voice sharp and commanding. "And to remind everyone who runs this damn house."

The pack shifts uncomfortably. They know what I'm doing, and they know why I've brought Bethany here. I'm asserting control. I'm making it clear to everyone—especially Adrian—that she belongs to me.

I turn to her, and my gaze hardens. "Bethany."

She glances up, eyes wide but filled with something—something I can't read. Fear? Resentment?

She walks toward me, her steps slow, deliberate. When she reaches me, I don't offer her a seat. She stands by my side, silently, and I relish in the power of it. I want Adrian to see this.

I want him to know she's mine.

I address the pack, my voice laced with venom. "We've had some... disruptions lately. And I need everyone to remember their place."

My eyes flick to Adrian across the room, standing like he owns the damn place. My hands twitch at my sides, but I keep them at bay. I need to stay in control.

The pack murmurs among themselves, but I ignore them.

"You think you can come here, try to undermine me? Disrespect me in front of my own pack?" My voice rises, more dangerous now. "I built this from nothing. Everything you have, I gave you. And you will show me the respect I deserve."

Bethany's gaze flicks to the floor, her face flushed with embarrassment. It stokes something dark inside me, but I can't stop. Not now. Not when she needs to be reminded of where she stands.

"Tell them, Bethany," I say, my voice low, commanding. "Tell them who you belong to."

She looks up, startled. Her lips part as if she's about to protest, but the words die in her throat.

"Go on," I push, my voice rising again. "Tell them you're mine."

She doesn't speak, doesn't give me what I want, and for a second, it feels like the world is suspended in that silence.

"Bethany!"

She jumps, the command in my voice striking her. "I'm not yours," she whispers, almost inaudibly.

My fist clenches at my side, and I force myself to take a breath. "No, you are. You are mine, and you will stay here, where you belong."

I can feel Adrian's eyes on me, watching, waiting for me to falter. He thinks I'm weak. Thinks he can swoop in and take her away from me.

He's wrong.

I step closer to Bethany, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. "Say it," I order, my voice rough. "Say it, or I'll make you."

Her eyes widen, panic flashing across her face. She looks between me and the rest of the pack, like she's trying to decide if she's going to break.

She doesn't.

Instead, she takes a step back. "No. I won't say it."

Something in me snaps.

I grab her arm, my grip tight, pulling her back toward me. "You don't get to make the rules, Bethany!" I roar. "You're here because I let you be here, and you'll do what I say."

The room falls silent. Even the pack, who's seen me lose my temper before, seems to hold their breath.

"Let go of me, Mason," she says, her voice strained, but there's no fear in it. No submission. And that pisses me off more than anything.

"Not until you understand your place," I hiss through clenched teeth. "Not until you remember who put you here."

I turn to the pack, making sure they see me holding her, holding her in front of them like an example.

"You see?" I say, my voice cutting through the tension. "She's mine. She'll always be mine."

The pack members exchange looks, a few nodding as if they understand. Others look at Bethany with pity, but I don't care.

She's mine.

And no one—not Adrian, not anyone—will ever take her from me.

Bethany finally pulls her arm from my grasp, her eyes flashing with something I can't place. "You don't get to control me, Mason," she says, her voice quiet but defiant.

I can't help it. My hands tremble at my sides, my breath coming faster, harder.

She's pushing me, pushing me to the edge.

"Get out of here," I spit. "Go back to your desk, Bethany. You're done here."

She doesn't argue. She just walks away, head held high, even though I can see the way her shoulders sag as soon as she turns her back to me.

I feel a sick satisfaction at her retreat.

I've won.

But the victory doesn't feel as sweet as it used to.