Page 50 of Elas

“Yes, ma’am. It’ll be spotless in here.”

“Make sure it’s done,” she says with a stern nod, then leaves me in the silence. My breath hitches in a long, shuddering release, like her scrutiny had stolen the air from my lungs.

My eyes dart to the hidden file, but I can’t risk locking the door again, so I focus on cleaning. The words I was reading replay through my mind, and I’m so stuck in my thoughts that I don’t even hear the door open. A hand lands on my shoulder, and I yelp and jerk away. I whirl around, unconvinced my heart won’t smash straight through my chest.

This stress is going to send me to an early grave.

“Whoa, easy… it’s just me.” Elas’s brows draw together as he holds both hands up, showing me his palms. It’s a submissive display I’ve noticed from his kind—a way of communicating they aren’t a threat.

“You scared me.” I take a deep breath and attempt to calm my rapid heart.

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he says, and I immediately register the stress on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I step forward, surrounding myself with his familiar scent. It’s a comfort, one I’ve become far too reliant on, and my pulse charges right back up to a hundred when I remember why.

His black eyes land on mine, silently searching my face. “You first, baby. Why do you look like you’re about to hit the floor?”

A shudder travels up my spine at the soft way he speaks to me, and I scoot even closer. “I have to tell you something,” I whisper, and if it wasn’t for his enhanced hearing, I don’t think the words would’ve made it to his ears. “Something big, Elas, and I…” I tilt my head up and find him watching me intently. “I’m afraid?” It comes out as a question, and his entire demeanor softens as he wraps an arm around my waist and settles his hand on the small of my back.

“You never have to be afraid with me, August,” he whispers back just as quietly, and I blow out a shaky breath as I nod.

“I… I did something.”

“Okay,” he says, and the silence stretches as I steel my nerves. “What sort of something?”

“You remember the folder I found? The one with that word on it?” He nods, but doesn’t speak. “When I came in this morning, there were workers here emptying the secret file room. It’s all going away, Elas. They’re taking it, and I’d never learn what was inside if I didn’t do something.”

“August—”

“I snuck in,” I whisper, even quieter somehow. “Into the room. When they were carrying boxes away, they left the door unlocked and I snuck in and stole a bunch of files.”

“You could’ve been caught,” he hisses, his giant hands landing on my biceps as my eyes snap wide. “What is it with the reckless people in my life? Fuck, you could’ve been caught, and then what?”

“But I wasn’t caught,” I argue weakly, and he narrows his eyes. “I wasn’t! And I got the files out, and I read one and…” I trail off, my eyes darting aside. “And it… well, it…”

“Tell me, doc.”

“It said that these marks come up… well, they come up between… mates. Fated mates.” I cringe at the ridiculousness of the words coming from my mouth, and glance up to see his brows drawn tight.

“Marks? Plural? So there have been more before now?”

“Based on the reports in that folder, yes. It sounds like…” I trail off as the impact of his words hits me. “You aren’t surprised,” I say aloud as my mind whirs, and the pieces start connecting in my head. “Youaren’t… are you?”

Suddenly, that unknown emotion I keep spotting on his face make sense.

Guilt.

“Why aren’t you surprised?” I demand, desperate for him to tell me I’ve got it wrong, that I’m being paranoid, and that he just needs a moment to let this all sink in. But he stays silent, and those heavy eyes only get guiltier. I try to back up, but his hands tighten on my arms and hold me in place. “Elas?”

He says nothing, just slowly shakes his head and stares at me like he can will the words to stay inside my mouth. “You knew,” I accuse, and he shakes his head again, though he doesn’t deny it. “Youknew, and you kept it from me?” Sudden, intense hurt rips through me, and I gasp as my hand flies to my chest. The mark scorches under my skin, and that string that binds my middle, that connects me to Elas—to mymate—cinches so tight I can barelybreathe.

“August, let me explain.” His voice is whisper-quiet, but the admission hits me like he shouted. It cuts me deeper, and I pull away from him.

I’m no fool.

He’s allowing me to go.

If he truly wanted me to stay put, it would take very little effort on his part to hold me captive.

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