Chapter 102 Would You Believe Me?
Emilia’s POV
The autumn night air bit at my skin as I paced the length of our bedroom. Midnight had come and gone, and still no Sebastian. No calls. No texts.
I grabbed my phone again, my thumb hovering over his contact. Should I call Beta Fynn? Alpha Titus? No, that would only make things worse. Sebastian hated when people fussed over him. But damn it, where the hell was he?
Just as I was about to storm downstairs and demand the guards tell me where their Alpha had gone, I heard it—uneven footsteps in the hallway, the kind that came from someone who’d had way too much to drink.
I yanked the door open.
Sebastian stood there, swaying slightly, his green eyes unfocused. The sharp scent of whiskey rolled off him in waves, so strong it nearly made me gag.
"Oh, fantastic," I muttered, grabbing his arm before he could face-plant into the hallway table. "You went out and got yourself completely wasted. That’s just perfect, Sebastian. Really mature problem-solving there."
He blinked at me slowly, like he was having trouble processing my words. "Emilia..."
"Yeah, it’s me. Your fake wife, remember?" I dragged him toward the couch. For someone who spent so much time in the gym, he was surprisingly heavy when he was dead drunk. "The one who’s apparently the only person in this entire pack house who gives a damn whether you come home alive or not."
I dumped him onto the couch and stormed into the bathroom to grab a cold towel. When I came back out, he had his head tilted back against the cushions, his eyes closed.
"Sit up," I ordered, pressing the towel to his face. "And don’t you dare throw up on this couch."
"I’m not going to throw up," he mumbled, though he didn’t sound particularly convincing.
I disappeared downstairs to make him honey water. Last night, he’d promised me he would try to move forward. To let go of the past. To be normal. So what the hell had happened between then and now to make him crawl into a bottle?
When I came back upstairs, he was sitting up, his elbows braced on his knees, his head in his hands.
"Here." I shoved the glass at him. "Drink."
He took it without argument and downed half of it in one go. We sat in silence for a moment, and I tried to figure out how to ask him what was wrong without sounding like I actually cared.
Which I did. God help me, I actually cared.
"Rough day at work?" I finally asked, keeping my tone casual.
"No."
"Right," I said slowly. "So you just decided to go out and get drunk for fun, then. Makes total sense."
He didn’t respond. He just stood up, still unsteady on his feet, and headed toward the bathroom.
"I’m going to take a shower," he said without looking at me.
I watched him go, that uneasy feeling in my gut growing stronger with every step he took. Something was wrong.
I should have gone to bed. I should have left him alone to deal with whatever demons he was wrestling with. But I couldn’t. I just sat there on the couch, waiting, my heart beating too fast for no reason I could name.
When the bathroom door finally opened and Sebastian stepped out, I looked up.
And that’s when I saw it.
My breath caught in my throat. His shirt was unbuttoned, hanging open, and there on his chest, right over his heart, was that name. Abigail. Except now, it was half-removed, the letters blurred and angry-looking against his skin.
"You went to get your tattoo removed today," I said quietly.
"Yes."
"Then why didn’t you finish it?"
I already knew the answer. But I needed to hear him say it. I needed him to tell me that she was still carved into his heart just as deeply as she was carved into his skin.
"It’s late," Sebastian said. "You should get some sleep. You have work tomorrow."
I stood up, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I should have gone to my room and buried this stupid, foolish hope before it could grow any bigger.
But I didn’t.
I turned to face him fully, and before I could stop myself, the words came tumbling out.
"What if I told you right now that I liked you? Would you believe me?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Sebastian stared at me, his expression frozen somewhere between shock and something that looked almost like pain. For a long moment, he didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.
Then, slowly, he smiled. It was the saddest smile I’d ever seen.
"I don’t believe it," he said.
"Why not?"
"Because someone like you..." He paused, his jaw working like the words were physically difficult to say. "Someone with a warm soul like yours wouldn’t fall for someone as cold as me."