Chapter 64: When Fire Meets Stone

What in the moon’s name was she so furious about?

If anyone had the right to be upset, it was Stone. His soulmate—his fated mate—was engaged to another man. Another male. That betrayal alone burned through his veins like wildfire, and it took every ounce of restraint not to let a growl escape his chest as the thought circled again like a vulture.

Still, he held his ground and watched with a stony expression as Audrey stepped out of the car. She slammed the door with enough force to make the vehicle rock, and then stormed toward him with fire in her eyes and her fists clenched like she was marching into battle.

She hadn’t even taken ten steps before Alistair leapt forward like a predator with a grin.

Before Stone could utter a warning, his second-in-command swept Audrey into his arms, spinning her in a wild circle as though she were a rag doll, laughing without a care in the world.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shrieked, squirming in his grasp while his booming laughter echoed across the clearing.

"Put her down. Now."  Stone’s voice lashed out through the mental link like a whip, his tone sharp and unyielding. He could feel the tension in his jaw as he fought to keep his expression blank, but his temper flared beneath the surface.

Audrey was yelling the same command aloud, only adding fuel to Alistair’s amusement. But eventually, after a few more chuckles, he obeyed, gently placing her back on the ground. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he beamed at her, clearly unbothered by the verbal onslaught.

Flushed and visibly rattled, Audrey scowled at him—but then her gaze drifted down, catching sight of the sheer size of the male who had just manhandled her so casually. Her scowl faltered. Her eyes went wide. Then her gaze flicked from Alistair to the rest of the men standing nearby.

It was all written on her face—clear as the full moon. Holy shit.

Stone didn’t need to hear her say it. Her thoughts were practically shouting it.

Alistair glanced back at Stone, his grin cocky. "See? Crisis averted. She’s more shocked than pissed now. You’re welcome. You owe me one."

Stone snorted silently, though he didn’t dignify that with a response.

Thankfully, Guinevere stepped up beside Audrey and took over with her usual grace. “Audrey, this is my uncle, Alistair. He was my mother’s older brother.”

“Been waiting weeks to finally meet you,” Alistair said warmly, holding out both hands, palms facing upward in the traditional greeting of their pack.

But Audrey, clearly unaware of their customs, didn’t acknowledge the gesture. She simply blinked at him, then turned toward the next imposing figure—Gunner. Her jaw dropped further.

“And that’s Gunner,” Guinevere continued, unfazed. “He’s one of my father’s cousins—on his mother’s side. He’s also the oldest member of the pack.”

Gunner gave a slow, respectful nod, his usual composed and quiet demeanor intact.

Audrey's  eyes finally landed on Gawain, who looked far less intimidating with his leaner build and softer features. There was almost a flicker of relief in her eyes.

“And that’s my twin brother, Gawain,” Gwen added with a small smile.

Gavin stepped forward, offering a friendly hand and a warm smile. “Sorry if I startled you last week. I was on watch near your place and didn’t realize you were out on the balcony. It’s really great to finally meet you properly.”

But Audrey didn’t move. Didn’t take his hand. Her wide-eyed stare just swept over them all again, clearly overwhelmed. Her breathing quickened, and her fingers slowly crept toward her throat in a subtle, protective motion.

The gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

One by one, every male in the circle tensed as their eyes followed the movement—and saw the bruises.

Faint, but unmistakable.

Stone’s blood turned to ice.

A tidal wave of fury surged in his chest. It took everything in him not to close the distance between them, scoop her into his arms, and shield her from the world. From her past. From everything that had left those marks on her skin.

She looked so small standing there—so fragile. Her petite five-foot-four frame was utterly dwarfed by the towering males surrounding her, each one over six feet tall and built like stone walls. Even Guinevere , standing beside her, was noticeably taller.

She looked like she didn’t belong. But she did. She belonged here.

Stone wanted to reach her, to say something—anything—to ease the storm behind her eyes. He remained rooted where he stood but finally spoke in a voice steady and low.

“You’re safe here,” he said, his eyes fixed on hers. “This is the safest place you could be. Every one of us will protect you—with our lives, if it comes to that.”

Her gaze locked with his for a fleeting moment. And in that second, he saw something flicker—fear, hope, uncertainty. But the moment shattered when she recoiled ever so slightly at his last words.

His chest ached at the sight.

“Come on,” Gwen said gently, reaching to place a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go inside.”

But Audrey flinched, withdrawing as if the touch burned her.

Guinevere’s smile faltered. Hurt flashed across her face as she looked back at Stone.

"I told her everything," she said through the mental link. "At least what she’d let me before she shut down completely."

Stone sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated but understanding. "Take her inside. Give her water. Let her breathe." He commuted through mental link.

Guinevere gave a small nod and forced her face back into a soft smile. “Come on,” she tried again, this time with lightness in her voice. “If you don’t, I’m pretty sure Alistair will find an excuse to carry you in.”

Audrey's eyes widened once more, flicking nervously toward Alistair—who cracked his knuckles with a wicked grin.

“With pleasure,” he drawled.

Stone’s growl rumbled so low it was nearly imperceptible, but every man around him heard it.

If anyone was going to carry her, it would be him.

The intimidation worked. Audrey took one cautious step back, then another—and finally, without a word, turned and followed Guinevere into the house.

The front door shut behind them, and Stone exhaled with a tight, quiet sigh. Her scent still lingered in the air, a bittersweet mixture of vanilla, clove, and unease. It wrapped around him like a ghost he couldn’t touch.

He tilted his face to the sky and silently prayed to the Moon Goddess to send a breeze—anything to scatter her scent before it consumed him whole.

But the trees were still. The air didn’t move.

“She’ll come around,” Alistair murmured beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Stone didn’t answer. He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed in slowly, trying to regain control of the whirlwind within.

He needed her to come around.

Because if she didn’t…

He didn’t know how much more he could take.