41. Stone
Chapter 41
Stone
W hen I tell Jax what happened between Ren and Hailey, his reaction is exactly what I expect.
The moment the words leave my mouth—“Ren choked her”—I see the fury snap through him. His entire body goes rigid, his fists clenched so tight I think he might break something, and his jaw flexes with the effort it takes to keep his voice steady. I don’t blame him. Hell, I’d barely managed to walk away from Ren without losing it myself, and I’m usually the calm one.
But Ren crossed a line.
The kind of line we can’t ignore.
And now, as I sit on the edge of the couch in the dimly lit sitting room, I can still feel the anger simmering beneath my skin. Ren isn’t here. I don’t know where the fuck he’s gone and Jax hasn’t asked. But his absence doesn’t solve the problem.
Not with everything else going on.
The scent of Hailey’s heat lingers in the air, thick and sweet, wrapping around me like a noose. It’s quieter in here than it is upstairs, but it doesn’t matter. I can still feel her. Smell her.
And hear her.
A soft, broken moan filters down from above, followed by the unmistakable sound of Finn murmuring something low and soothing. My jaw clenches, and I force myself to focus on the laptop in front of me.
“Cameras are clear,” Jax says from across the room, his voice tight. He’s standing near the window, his shoulders tense as he surveys the front of the house.
“For now,” I mutter, my eyes scanning the security feeds. The tension between us is palpable, thickened by our shared frustration and the constant pull of Hailey’s pre-heat.
“If we notify the police…” Jax muses, pacing. But he doesn’t continue. I know why he doesn’t. What’s going on here is bigger than the city police. We need help from higher up, and discreetly. Like the Feds. But none of us have contacts like that. What’s worse, we both know how the city police operate. How they can be bought. The corruption under high-profile alphas is hidden but often whispered about.
We don’t know whose attention we’d draw by bringing this to them.
We have to try to figure this out ourselves.
The sound of Hailey’s cries reaches us again, louder this time, and I see Jax’s hand tighten around the edge of the curtain.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his head dropping forward for a moment before he straightens and steps away from the window. He’s been pacing on and off all night, the restless energy in him barely contained.
“She’s safe,” I remind him, though the words feel hollow in my mouth. Safe from the outside threat, maybe. But not from us. Not from what we’re both feeling.
Another moan, this one sharper, more desperate, cuts through the air, and I can’t stop the way my body reacts. My cock twitches in my sweats. It’s been consistently hard and aching. I bite back a growl, forcing myself to stay seated. I’ve changed sweats twice now. It doesn’t matter. Pre-cum has soaked the fibers again .
“They’ve been at it all night,” Jax says, his voice rough. He’s standing near the fireplace now, his back to me, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curl into fists at his sides.
“She’s in pain,” I reply, voice strained. “He’s giving her what she needs.”
Jax doesn’t respond, but the look in his eyes tells me he’s fighting the same battle I am.
We sit in silence for a while, the tension between us broken only by the sounds from upstairs. Every moan, every gasp, every wet, slick sound of Finn driving into her is like a blade slicing through me.
“We need to bring her to the doctor,” Jax says suddenly, his voice cutting through the haze.
I look at him, frowning. “It’s too risky.”
“Then we’ll have Dr. Greene come here,” he snaps. “This isn’t normal for a pre-heat, Stone. She can’t stay like this. I can’t think. It’s…it’s too much.”
He’s right. The pre-heat is stronger than anything we’ve dealt with before, and it’s affecting all of us. Hailey needs help—more than Finn can give her. And she’s not ready for us yet. The last thing we want to do is break her.
“I’ll make the call,” I say, pushing myself to my feet. My body protests the movement, every muscle tight with tension, but I ignore it.
Jax nods, his jaw tight. “Good.”
The sound of Hailey crying out Finn’s name echoes through the house, and we both freeze, the air between us crackling with unspoken need.
I nod at Jax and step away, heading toward the small desk tucked in the corner of the room. Hailey’s cry still rings in my ears, sharp and pleading, and it takes every ounce of control I have not to react. She’s upstairs, safe with Finn. That’s what I need to focus on. Not the ache in my chest, not the way her scent wraps around me like a chain, and definitely not the way my cock is throbbing, begging for relief.
I grab my phone, my hands trembling slightly as I scroll to the contact for Dr. Greene. She’s the only doctor we trust—the only one discreet enough to keep her mouth shut and professional enough not to press for details we can’t give her.
The phone rings once, twice, and then her voice comes through, calm and professional, even at this hour.
“Stone?” she says, her tone as steady as ever.
“We need you,” I say, skipping any pleasantries. “Our omega is in pre-heat, and it’s…stronger than we’ve dealt with before.”
There’s a pause on the other end, just long enough for me to hear Jax mutter another curse under his breath as he checks the locks on the front door.
“How far along is he?”
There it is. The ultimate question.
I swallow hard, my grip on the phone tightening. “That’s…hard to say.”
A weighted silence stretches between us, and I can practically hear her mind working on the other end of the line.
“Has his pre-heat progressed?” she asks, her voice calm but probing.
I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. “It hit faster than we expected,” I admit, skirting the truth without outright lying. “It’s…intense.”
Dr. Greene hums thoughtfully, the sound clinical and efficient. “And his vitals? Has there been a spike in his temperature? Any distress?”
“She’s—” I catch myself, my teeth clenching so hard my jaw aches. “He’s struggling,” I correct quickly.
“Struggling how?” she presses, her tone sharpening with concern .
“A lot of physical discomfort. Restless. Like his body’s fighting it.” That much, at least, is true. My free hand curls into a fist at my side as I force my voice to stay neutral.
There’s a sound of rustling on the other line.
“I won’t be able to make it until in a few hours’ time,” she says after a moment. “Think you can take care of him till then? I’ll try to get to your place in the morning.”
I glance at Jax, who’s now moving toward the kitchen, his shoulders still tense. He catches my eye and raises an eyebrow, waiting for an update.
“First thing,” I repeat to her. “We’ll be ready.”
“Make sure he stays hydrated. Give him your knot if he wishes for it…though he might not be producing enough slick for that yet,” Dr. Greene continues. “You know how dangerous it can be if things escalate too quickly.”
I could almost laugh. Not producing enough slick? Our luscious omega soaked through her and my sweatpants. I’d say she’s producing enough. But this is no time for jokes—and Dr. Greene has no idea I’m talking about Hailey and not Finn.
“Understood,” I reply, keeping my voice clipped.
“Good. I’ll see you in the morning,” she says firmly, then hangs up.
I lower the phone and turn to Jax, who’s abandoned his trek to the kitchen and is already back at the window, peering out into the darkness.
“She’ll be here in the morning,” I tell him.
His jaw tightens, and he lets out a sharp breath through his nose. “Not soon enough.”
I exhale, nodding as I tuck the phone into my back pocket. “We just need to hold things down tonight.”
He nods, but his gaze doesn’t leave the driveway. “Good. But we still need to secure the house.”
“I know.”
We move in tandem, the silence between us punctuated by the sound of our feet on the hardwood floor and the occasional muffled cry from upstairs. Every time Hailey’s voice breaks, I see Jax’s shoulders tighten, his jaw clenching like he’s physically restraining himself from bolting up there.
I know the feeling all too well.
“Windows first,” Jax says, his tone clipped.
I nod, checking the locks on the ground floor while Jax moves from room to room, double-checking every possible point of entry. All the extra bolts and locks Ren installed suddenly seem integral. His paranoia not so ‘out there’ anymore.
“Back door’s secure,” I call out as I test the deadbolt.
“Front’s good too,” Jax replies from the living room.
I head back to the sitting room, grabbing the tablet linked to the outdoor cameras and the perimeter feed. All looks clear, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched.
“Anything?” Jax asks as he steps back into the room.
I shake my head, scrolling through the different angles. The driveway is empty, the tree line still. “Nothing. But that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear.”
Jax leans against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes locked on the screen. “They’ll come back,” he says quietly.
I glance at him, frowning. “You sound sure of that.”
“I am.” His voice is low, steady, but there’s an edge to it. “Whoever they were, they weren’t here by accident. And they didn’t just leave because they got spooked. They were testing us. Seeing how far they could get.”
The thought sends a fresh wave of tension through me. He’s right. I felt it too when I saw the car earlier—the calculated way they moved, the way they didn’t linger but didn’t rush either.
“They know about her,” I say, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. “The Academy?”
Jax doesn’t respond, but the look in his eyes says enough. After a few moments, he says the words I knew were coming. Probably because I’ve thought them, too. “We need Ren. ”
Fuck.
Another sound from upstairs—a soft, broken whimper—cuts through the silence, and we both freeze.
“Fuck,” Jax mutters, dragging a hand down his face.
“She’s safe,” I remind him, though I’m mostly saying it for my own benefit. “Finn’s got her.”
“For now,” he says, his voice tight. “But we don’t know how long that’ll hold.”
I don’t have an answer for that, so I turn back to the tablet, forcing myself to focus on the feeds.
“Breakfast,” Jax says suddenly, pushing off the wall.
I blink at him. “What?”
“For them,” he clarifies, already heading toward the kitchen. “They’ll need to eat.”
I hesitate, glancing toward the stairs. The dark of night is slowly turning gray as dawn breaks. Have we really been down here all night? Jax is right. They’ll be starved. But the idea of going anywhere near them right now feels like walking into a fire.
“We’ll just leave it at the door,” Jax says, reading my hesitation. “Finn can handle the rest.”
I nod and follow him into the kitchen, grabbing a tray while he pulls together something quick—eggs, toast, fruit, anything that can hold them over for a while.
As we work, the light of dawn begins sending the first few rays into the kitchen, and the house suddenly grows quiet.
The silence is unsettling.
The sound of Hailey’s cries, her moans, her whimpers—they’ve been a constant background noise for hours, clawing at our control, wrapping around us, pulling us toward her. Now that it’s gone, the quiet feels wrong.
I glance at Jax as he finishes piling eggs and toast onto the tray, his jaw tight. He feels it too.
“She must’ve passed out,” I breathe, my voice cutting through the stillness .
Jax doesn’t reply right away, but his shoulders relax slightly as he grabs a bowl of fruit and places it next to the toast. “Probably. Finn must’ve finally worn her down.”
The tension in his voice is still there, but there’s a hint of relief, too. It’s not just her pre-heat that’s been weighing on us—it’s the fear that she’d push herself too far, that her body wouldn’t be able to handle the intensity of it.
“She needs rest,” I say, more to myself than to him.
Jax grabs two glasses of water and sets them on the tray. “She’ll get it,” he says firmly. “Finn will make sure of it.”
I nod, but the uneasy feeling in my stomach doesn’t go away.
The food is simple—just enough to keep them going until the doctor arrives later. Jax picks up the tray, and I follow him toward the stairs, the silence of the house pressing down on us.
The scent of Hailey’s heat still lingers, clinging to the air like a second skin. It’s not as strong as it was earlier, but it’s enough to make me grit my teeth and focus on each step, one at a time.
Jax pauses at the top of the stairs, his grip tightening on the tray as he looks at the closed door to the nest room. For a moment, neither of us moves.
He exhales sharply, as if trying to shake off the tension. “Let’s just get this done.”
He steps forward, and I follow, keeping a careful distance between us and the door. The scent is stronger here, the air heavier, but it’s the silence that makes my chest tighten. I don’t like not knowing what’s happening on the other side.
Jax sets the tray down gently in front of the door, balancing it carefully to make sure nothing spills. He knocks twice, the sound sharp in the quiet hallway.
“Finn,” he calls out, his voice low. “Food.”
A few seconds pass, and then we hear movement from inside. The door doesn’t open, but Finn’s voice comes through, muffled and rough.
“Thanks. ”
Jax doesn’t respond. He just turns and heads back down the stairs, and I follow, the two of us moving in silence.
Back in the sitting room, Jax drops onto the couch with a heavy sigh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. I sit across from him, grabbing the tablet to check the security feeds again.
“Still clear,” I say, though it doesn’t feel like much of a reassurance.
Jax nods, but his gaze is distant, his jaw tight. “This isn’t normal, Stone. You know that, right?”
I set the tablet down, leaning back in my seat. “I know.”
“And if it’s not normal for her…” He trails off, but I know where he’s going with this.
“Then it won’t be normal for us either,” I finish for him.
He doesn’t respond, but the look in his eyes says enough.