The lost mate
Chapter 93: Confession

Chapter 93: Confession

Chris straightened up, wincing a little. "I saw someone coming into your house! I thought it was that homeless guy from earlier, so I, uh, came to protect you."

Emily stared at him, her mouth twitching. "You were following me ?"

Chris cleared his throat. "I panicked, okay?"

She rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a laugh that threatened to bubble up. "You broke into my house because you thought I was in danger? At least call me next time instead of doing your James Bond impression."

Chris leant casually against the kitchen counter, still rubbing the back of his neck where Emily had smacked him with a spatula just minutes earlier. He gave her a sheepish grin, trying to salvage some dignity after his failed attempt at playing protector.

"I’m serious, Emily," he said, waving off her laughter. "I smelled someone weird hanging around your house. So I figured, you know, I’d sneak in and take care of it."

Emily leant back on her chair, arms crossed, trying to keep a straight face. "You smelled an intruder?"

"Yeah, sure, Sherlock," Emily teased. "Well, thanks for coming to my rescue, I guess. You want a drink or something, since you’re already here breaking and entering?"

Chris chuckled and shrugged, playing it cool. "Why not? A little late-night drink never hurt anyone. Besides, after getting whacked with a spatula, I think I’ve earned it."

Emily got up and made her way to the kitchen cabinet, rummaging around for some booze. "So, how’s Heather doing?" Chris asked casually, his tone softening.

Emily paused, her expression changing as she pulled out a bottle of scotch. "She’s... holding up," she said quietly, unscrewing the cap. "She’s at the hospital tonight, getting another round of treatment."

Chris’ face softened, his usual playful demeanour fading a bit. "I’m really sorry she’s going through that. You both don’t deserve it."

Emily nodded, pouring two generous glasses of scotch. "Yeah, it’s been hard. But honestly, I’m just grateful for Damien and Anne. They’ve been a huge help. I don’t think I could’ve handled everything on my own, especially with all the... other stuff that’s been going on." She slid one of the glasses over to Chris.

"Other stuff?" Chris raised an eyebrow as he sipped his drink, then grimaced. "Wow, that’s strong."

Emily smirked. "Don’t be such a lightweight."

"I’m not!" Chris protested, taking another sip, his face scrunching up again before he cleared his throat.

They sat on the couch and drank, talking about mundane things. After several rounds, Chris eventually brought up the "other stuff" Emily had mentioned earlier.

"Anyway, what other stuff are you talking about?"

Emily sighed, leaning against the counter, staring into her glass. "You know, the whole mess with Detective Fred and those murder charges they tried to pin on mum. It was such a nightmare. But Damien stepped in and made it all go away."

Chris, already a little tipsy, waved his hand dismissively. "Eh, that was nothing. Fred’s not exactly the most upstanding detective."

Emily looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Chris began, his voice slurring slightly, "Fred’s a werewolf too. He’s just following orders. You know how it goes—Alpha commands, everyone else falls in line."

Emily blinked, her tipsiness pausing for a moment as her brain caught up with what Chris was saying. "Wait, what? Are you saying Damien ordered Fred to drop the charges?"

"Uh-huh," Chris nodded enthusiastically, tipping back more of his drink. "Yep! There was no proof to really charge Heather or Anne, but Fred didn’t even need to investigate. Damien just told him to lie and arrest Heather so that Anne would come running for help."

Emily’s eyes widen as the words sink in. Damien manipulated everything? He hadn’t just "helped" Heather and Anne—he had orchestrated the entire thing for his own purposes. Her mind whirred, piecing together all the moments that had seemed off at the time, but she hadn’t paid much attention to.

"So... wait," Emily said slowly, her voice now clear as the shock set in. "Are you telling me Damien got Fred to lie just so he could... win Anne back? Like this whole murder charge thing wasn’t even real?"

Chris winced at her tone, his shoulders slumping slightly as if he could feel the full force of her anger bearing down on him. "Emily, listen—"

"No!" she interrupted, standing up abruptly and pointing towards the door. "Get out! I can’t believe this. You’ve been sitting here, drinking my scotch, like we’re having a nice chat, while you drop that bomb on me? And now you want me to pretend everything’s fine? Are all of you wolves like this? Manipulative liars?"

Chris’s expression shifted, his easygoing demeanour falling away as her words stung him. "Emily, it’s not like that," he said, his voice suddenly serious. "I’m not trying to manipulate you. Damien did what he thought was best for them. It’s complicated."

Emily’s eyes blazed with fury. "Complicated? Is that what you call it when you lie to the person you supposedly love? Manipulate the people around you for your own gain? What about you, Chris? Are you manipulating me too? Pretending to help me, pretending to care?"

Chris’s face paled, and he took a step back as if her words had physically hit him. His mouth opened, but for a moment, no sound came out. He was visibly struggling, his usual cocky, playful facade completely gone.

"Emily," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’m not pretending. I swear, I’ve never lied to you. I—" He ran a hand through his hair, clearly conflicted. "I didn’t want to tell you like this, but... you’re my mate."

Emily blinked, her anger momentarily replaced by confusion. "Your what?"

"My mate," Chris repeated, his voice shaking slightly as the words spilt out. "You’re my mate, Emily. I’ve known it for a while now. That’s why I’ve been hanging around, why I’ve been trying to protect you. But I didn’t want to pressure you or make you feel like you didn’t have a choice. I didn’t even know how to tell you, so I just... I didn’t."

Emily stood there, stunned into silence. Her mind whirled with the revelation. Chris, her friend, the guy who was always cracking jokes and annoying her with his cocky attitude, was suddenly confessing something huge—something that seemed to turn her world upside down.

She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "So, let me get this straight. You’ve been keeping that from me too? You’ve known all this time and never said anything?"

Chris’s eyes softened, and he took a tentative step towards her. "I didn’t want to freak you out. I wasn’t trying to manipulate you, I swear. I was trying to figure out how to handle it without messing things up between us."

Emily shook her head, her emotions a jumbled mess. "And now you’re telling me this because what—because you feel guilty? Or because you think it’ll stop me from being mad about what Damien did?"

Chris reached out as if to touch her arm but stopped himself, his hand hovering in the air before he let it drop. "No," he said quietly. "I’m telling you because it’s the truth."

Emily took a deep breath, her anger simmering just below the surface. "You’ve been keeping things from me, just like Damien kept things from Anne. Do you really think I can trust any of you?"

Chris’s face fell, guilt and regret etched into his features. "I understand why you’re mad. I should’ve told you sooner. But Emily, this isn’t like Damien and Anne. I never wanted to manipulate you into anything."

Emily turned away from him, her heart pounding in her chest. Everything felt overwhelming—the revelation about Damien, the confession from Chris. It was too much. She needed space, time to think, to process.

"I need you to leave," she said, her voice quieter now, though no less firm. "I can’t deal with this right now."

Chris stood there for a moment; his expression pained, but he nodded slowly. "Okay," he said softly. "I’ll go. But Emily, please—just don’t say anything to Anne yet. She’s happy now, and Damien really does love her. This... it could ruin everything."

Emily didn’t respond. She just stared at the floor, her mind racing. Chris hesitated a moment longer before turning and heading for the door.

Before he stepped out, he glanced back at her one last time. "I’m sorry, Emily. For everything."

And then he was gone, leaving Emily alone in the kitchen, her mind spinning with anger and confusion. Her thoughts shifted back to Damien and Anne. Could she really keep this from her best friend? Could she let Anne continue living in ignorance, even if it meant sparing her pain?

Emily sighed, rubbing her temples. The scotch wasn’t helping anymore.