45

45

Mason's POV

If there was one thing I hated, it was losing control—of my pack, my reputation, and, most of all, her. Bethany had slipped through my grasp like sand, and no matter how tightly I tried to hold on, she pushed further away.

The whispers in the packhouse were growing louder, the weight of their judgment pressing down on me. They questioned my leadership, my ability to keep the pack united. And at the center of it all was Bethany.

Today, I had to change everything.

I started with flowers. An extravagant arrangement of white lilies and soft pink roses—the kind she used to mention in passing, back when she still smiled at me. I had the bouquet delivered to her room with a note written in my own hand:

Beth,

I know I've made mistakes, and I know I've hurt you. But I'm not giving up on us. Please let me make this right.

—Mason