Matthew's pov

　　As we walk through the forest, I can't shake off the feeling of embarrassment that washes over me. The words I spoke to Michael about Emma being my mate weigh heavily on my mind. They slipped out in the heat of the moment, without much thought behind them.

　　Glancing at Emma beside me, I wonder what's going through her mind. She played along with my impromptu claim when Michael was present, but I can't help but imagine how awkward it must have been for her to hear me refer to her as my mate so casually. It's a weighty title, one that shouldn't be thrown around lightly, and I can't help but feel guilty for placing that burden on her shoulders, even if it was just for show.

　　"Hey, Matthew… Sorry about back there," Emma breaks the silence with an unexpected apology, and I'm taken aback. Despite everything that happened back there with Michael, she's the one extending an apology, as if she believes it's her fault. It's a stark reminder of the kindness and humility that resides within her, even in the face of adversity.

　　I can't help but feel a surge of admiration for her strength and grace, even in the midst of such a challenging situation. It's clear that Emma possesses a resilience that I hadn't fully appreciated before, and it only deepens my respect for her.

　　Thoughts of Michael fill my mind, stirring up a potent mix of anger and resentment. I've never held much fondness for the guy, but witnessing his treatment of Emma has only solidified my disdain for him.

　　Recalling Emma's revelation about being rejected by Michael during our first encounter, I initially found it hard to believe. Rejecting mate is no small matter; it inflicts profound emotional and psychological wounds on both parties involved, weakening their wolves in the process. Yet, despite the pain, males often mask their suffering behind a facade of strength, while females tend to wear their anguish more openly. It's a painful ordeal for all involved, and I can't help but feel a surge of sympathy for Emma, knowing the pain she must have endured.

　　When I eavesdropped on their conversation from behind the cover of the trees, I couldn't help but notice the disdain in Michael's demeanor towards Emma. To him, she seems little more than an object, devoid of emotions or autonomy. It grated on my nerves to witness such callous disregard for her humanity.

　　Despite the pain of rejection, I can't shake the feeling that Emma might be better off without Michael. His treatment of her only solidifies that notion. If she had remained his mate, who knows what further mistreatment she might have endured? But dwelling on such thoughts serves no purpose; Emma's path is hers to choose, and for now, she's chosen to walk away from Michael. It's a decision that I can't help but respect.

　　"Is this the way that dick treated you after your best friend's death?" Watching Emma's face sour at my question makes me feel guilty. Have I gone too far? I should've thought twice before asking something so personal.

　　But Emma surprises me with her calm response, even defending Michael's actions. "But it's understandable, I guess. Michael's hurting too… Ava was his sister."

　　It shows how pure-heated she is, still trying to see some good in him. If it were me, I don't think I could do the same. Honestly, I already dislike Michael a lot, and even Fenrir, my wolf, agrees with me. He thinks Emma deserves someone better, and I can't help but agree. After all, she's been through so much already.

　　"But that doesn't give him the right to treat you like crap," I glance at Emma, her brown locks flowing in waves, framing her face like a soft halo. Her eyes, deep brown pools, seem weighed down by emotions. I can't help but wonder what's going through her mind. A part of me wants to reach out, to reassure her that she's worth so much more than someone like Michael.

　　Emma shrugs, "He wasn't like this when we got mated. He was nice to me."

　　My fist curls involuntarily at her words, frustration bubbling within me. How can she defend someone who treated her so poorly now? The protectiveness I feel towards Emma intensifies, but there's something else stirring within me, something I can't quite put my finger on.

　　Emma's eyes flicker with an emotion I can't quite decipher, and then she speaks, "But they found the silver dagger in my car trunk. So, naturally, everyone's pointing fingers at me."

　　As Emma mentions the silver dagger found in her car trunk, I'm not particularly surprised. Liam had already briefed me on the situation, and I firmly believe that Emma has been framed. "Finding one piece of evidence doesn't close the case," I tell her, my thoughts echoing what Liam had shared. "It's just a lazy investigation." I can't let Emma bear the weight of false accusations, not when I know she's innocent.

　　I understand where Michael's coming from, losing his sister like that. It's a nightmare, no doubt about it. I remember how on edge I was when Emma brought Charlotte back home. If anything had happened to my sister, I'd be a wreck too. But that doesn't mean you go accusing people left and right without a shred of evidence. Putting an innocent person through that kind of hell? It's just wrong, plain and simple.

　　When she asks me why I didn't suspect her, I meet her gaze, trying to convey my sincerity.

　　"Even if there was a lot of evidence against you, I wouldn't believe it. I've watched you, Emma. You can be stupid, a little annoying at times, but not a killer." I've watched Emma carefully, observing her actions and demeanor. She's not the type of person who could commit such a crime.

　　As her eyes soften, I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt. I wonder about the pain and suffering she must have endured back in the Moon shade pack. It's a sobering thought, and I make a silent vow to support her however I can.

　　Emma expresses her gratitude for my belief in her, and as we walk, I guide her along a shortcut I know. The tension dissipates, and the atmosphere becomes more relaxed.

　　"Wait, how did you find me here?" Suddenly, Emma queries.

　　"I, uh, deliberately relaxed my guard a bit earlier," I admit, scratching the back of my neck nervously. "I wanted to give you some space, but I followed you to make sure you were okay."

　　She ponders for a moment, piecing together the puzzle. I can see the realization dawning in her eyes, understanding why there were fewer guards around the borders. "Wow, Matthew! You really knew I'd do something like that? That's amazing. I am impressed."

　　Emma's expression shifts to one of amazement, and she offers praise for my foresight. Her words bring a smile to my lips, but I find myself at a loss for a response, content to let her appreciation hang in the air between us.

　　Truth be told, I hadn't predicted her actions at all. It was Charlotte who had suggested lowering the guards and allowing Emma to venture beyond the borders. At first, I hesitated, concerned for Emma's safety midst the dangers of the woods. However, Charlotte's assurance and promise to accompany her eased my worries. Despite my initial reluctance, I ultimately agreed, trusting Charlotte's judgment. And now, as I reflect on the encounter with Michael, I understand the significance of Charlotte's advice. It was a fortunate decision, one that allowed me to intervene and protect Emma from harm.