48. Hailey
Chapter 48
Hailey
I ’m drifting in that perfect space between sleeping and waking, where warmth and safety wrap around me like a cocoon. Stone’s chest rises and falls beneath my jaw, his steady heartbeat a lullaby that speaks of home. Jax’s arm is draped over my waist, and between us, Finn’s gentle breathing joins the symphony of our sleep.
The way they marked me, rubbed their scents into my skin, it makes a small slow smile pass over my lips. But…something pulls me from this peace. My eyes snap open in the darkness, though I don’t know why. Years of learning to trust my instincts at the Academy have my body tensing before my mind can catch up to what’s wrong. The nest is still quiet, still safe, but something …
Lifting my head in the darkness of the nest, my instincts prickle with unease. Something woke me, but I’m not sure what. The dim light filtering through the windows casts soft shadows across the tangle of limbs and blankets surrounding me, but nothing seems out of place.
The slight shift in my position is enough to rouse Stone. His eyes open instantly, a predatory awareness replacing sleep in a way that doesn’t fail to remind me what he is. An alpha’s protective instincts are a powerful thing.
“Stone?” I whisper, and his muscles coil in response, body already orienting toward whatever potential threat disturbed our peace. He reaches for his phone resting on the edge of the nest, the screen’s glow illuminating the sharp planes of his face. My heart stutters when I see what he’s looking at—something on his screen is blinking red.
“Perimeter alarm,” he breathes.
A soft creak from downstairs has my heart racing. Not just my imagination then. Not just paranoia left over from years of sleeping with one eye open. This is real.
The peace of moments ago shatters like glass as adrenaline floods my system. My body remembers this feeling—the electric anticipation of fight or flight that was my present companion at the Academy. But this is different. This isn’t just about my survival anymore. My gaze sweeps over the males sleeping beside me, and something fierce and protective rises in my chest, an emotion so strong it almost chokes me.
Finn mumbles in his sleep, shifting closer to my warmth, completely unaware of the danger. I want to keep him that way—safe, peaceful. The thought surprises me with its intensity. When did these men become so essential to my existence that the mere thought of harm coming to them makes my blood burn?
Stone’s hand finds mine in the darkness, a gentle squeeze that grounds me. He presses a finger to his lips and shakes his head slowly. Don’t make a sound . I give him a nod. I’ve had years of being trained to do just that.
Another creak, closer this time. Jax is fully awake now, his body curved protectively around Finn even as his attention fixes on the bedroom door. The air grows thick with alpha pheromones—both Stone and Jax radiating protective fury. Under different circumstances, I might have found their possessive display a bit anxiety-inducing. Now, it only feeds the growing certainty that I’ll do whatever it takes to defend them, too.
“Someone’s in the house,” Stone whispers, his voice barely a breath against my ear. The strange topographical map on his phone screen shows several red dots blinking at different points. Not just one intruder then. My stomach clenches at the implications.
“They’ve come for me,” I whisper, the words barely audible, but Stone’s sharp inhalation tells me he hears them. His hand tightens on mine briefly—reassurance, or maybe a silent promise. Either way, it steadies me.
Jax is already moving, his motions silent as he slips out of the nest, his body radiating tension. He slips into pants and crouches low, disappearing into the shadows beneath the nest. I strain my eyes, trying to make out what he’s doing, my heart pounding in my chest. When he rises, a glint of metal catches my eye—the distinct, unmistakable shape of a handgun. The sight of it makes my stomach twist—not because I’m afraid of violence, but because I know exactly what it means: Jax means business. He’s not playing games. He’s preparing for war. He’s ready to protect his pack, his home, me , by any means necessary.
“Never did understand why Ren kept this here,” he mutters so low, it’s almost impossible to hear him. As he checks the barrel, his gaze shifts to me. “Stay quiet.” His gaze flicks to Stone, a silent communication passing between them.
I nod, my throat too tight to speak, and Stone leans in close, his massive frame blocking out everything else for a moment. “Stay here. Don’t move unless I say,” he whispers, his voice as steady as his hand as he brushes a finger against my cheek.
“I can help,” I whisper back, but his sharp shake of the head cuts me off.
“Not this time, sweetheart. Let us handle it.”
Before I can protest, he’s gone, following Jax out of the room buck naked. But that doesn’t take away from the fact he looks like a warrior stripped for battle, every muscle coiled tight, every line of him honed and dangerous.
The door closes softly behind them, and the silence that follows is deafening. My heart thunders in my chest, every instinct screaming at me to follow, to do something, but I force myself to stay put. I’m not stupid. I know I’d only be a liability out there.
They’ve come for me . I’m not going to just walk into their arms while my pack is doing everything they can to prevent that.
Finn stirs beside me, his brow furrowing as he blinks himself awake. “What’s going on?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.
“Shh,” I whisper, placing a hand on his chest to keep him from sitting up. “There’s someone in the house. Stone and Jax are handling it.”
His eyes snap open, the fog of sleep vanishing in an instant. “What?” he breathes, his hand already reaching for me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I reassure him, though my voice shakes slightly. “They told me to stay here.”
Finn’s jaw tightens, and he sits up fully, his body coiled with tension. “The hell you will,” he mutters, swinging his legs over the edge of the nest. Reaching under the nest, he grabs the baseball bat and I begin to wonder what the hell else is hidden under there.
“Finn—”
“Bathroom,” he says firmly, cutting me off. “Lock the door and don’t come out until one of us gets you.”
I hesitate, my instincts warring with his command, but the sound of something crashing downstairs decides for me. I scramble out of the nest, my limbs shaking as I hurry toward the bathroom. Finn is already moving toward the door, his broad shoulders taut with tension, but he pauses for a brief moment to look back at me.
“Please,” he says, his voice softer now, but no less urgent. “Don’t make me worry about you too, Hailey.”
The words make something in the center of my chest clench painfully, and I nod, slipping into the bathroom and locking the door behind me. My hands tremble as I back away, my heart pounding so loudly I can barely hear anything else. The bathroom is dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon through the window. Leaning against the sink, I try to calm my breathing, but every sound from beyond the walls sends fresh spikes of adrenaline through me.
A muffled shout echoes from downstairs, followed by a sharp crack. My knees threaten to give out, but I force myself to stay upright, my mind racing. Stone and Jax are out there. Finn is out there. They’re fighting for me. I can’t fall apart now.
Footsteps thunder down the hallway below—running. A shout, then the heavy thud of something hitting a wall. More footsteps, these slow, heavy.
My fingers grip the cold porcelain of the sink as gunfire erupts downstairs, startling me right down to my bones. The sharp cracks echo through the house, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Someone curses—Jax, I think. Another burst of gunfire, closer this time.
The sound of breaking glass snaps me out of my thoughts, and my blood runs cold. It’s close—too close. My eyes dart to the small frosted window above the bathtub, but it’s intact. Then I hear it again, the unmistakable crunch of glass underfoot, and my stomach twists.
Someone’s in the nest room.
Panic surges through me, but I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. My eyes dart around the bathroom, searching for something—anything—that I can use to defend myself.
My gaze lands on the toilet tank lid. It’s ceramic, heavy and solid—a potential weapon. I step toward it, my hands still trembling as I grip the edges. The lid is heavier than I expect, and I have to brace myself as I lift it carefully off the tank. Water droplets splash softly against the porcelain as I cradle the unwieldy weight against my chest, my arms already protesting .
When the door handle rattles, my lungs cease to work. They know I’m in here. The realization is like ice in my veins, but it also sharpens something inside me. I can’t panic. I can’t freeze. If I do, I’m as good as gone.
The door bursts open with a deafening crash, the force of it splintering the wood around the lock. A man steps into the bathroom, his face obscured by a black mask. He’s taller than I expected, broader, and the way he moves makes me want to collapse. Predatory, efficient, deadly. An alpha? There’s no way I can fight back and win. The tank lid suddenly feels impossibly heavy in my trembling arms.
I swing it anyway, desperation lending me strength. He sees it coming—of course, he does—and steps easily to the side. The momentum of the heavy porcelain throws me off balance, and I stumble forward. Before I can recover, he’s already moving. I try to swing again, but this time he’s ready. The lid connects with his shoulder instead of his head, the impact jarring my arms but barely making him flinch.
But he’s fast. Too fast. His hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist in a bruising grip, and he yanks me back with enough force to send me crashing into the sink. The toilet lid falls and cracks as pain explodes in my side, but I grit my teeth against it, twisting in his grip. My free hand claws at his mask, and I manage to tear it halfway off, revealing a face that’s shockingly young. He can’t be more than a few years older than me.
“Let me go!” I snarl, my voice raw with panic and fury. I try to slam my elbow back into his ribs, but he anticipates the move, shifting his grip so my attempt barely glances off him. My struggles seem to only amuse him, his strength making my resistance feel pathetically ineffective.
I wrench and twist desperately, but his arms are like steel bands around me. Every movement I make is met with calculated force, his training obvious in the way he controls my attempts to break free. My nails rake across his forearms, but even that seems to have little effect through his combat gear. His grip tightens until I can barely breathe, and the reality of my situation hits me with crushing clarity. This is it. This is how they’ll take me.
Then the door slams open, and Jax is there, his eyes wild and his gun raised. The intruder freezes, his grip faltering just enough for me to break free. I stumble away, my back hitting the wall as Jax crosses the room in two long strides. His fist connects with the intruder’s face with a sickening crack, and the man crumples to the floor, unconscious.
“Hailey,” Jax breathes, his voice rough with a mix of relief and fury. He’s on me in an instant, his hands gripping my shoulders as his dark eyes scan me for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, my breath coming in ragged gasps as the adrenaline continues to pump through me. “I’m fine,” I manage. “I’m okay.”
Jax’s hand cups my face, his thumb brushing my jaw as he studies me intently, not quite believing my words. There’s blood on his knuckles and a wild look in his eyes that makes my heart stutter. He opens his mouth to say something, but gunfire erupts from downstairs again, making us both flinch.
“Stone,” I breathe, fear clawing at my throat.
“He’s handling it,” Jax says grimly, but his jaw is tight with tension. He glances at the unconscious man on the bathroom floor, then back to me. “There’s more of them. At least four. We need to get you out of here.”
“Finn—”
“With Stone.” His hand slides down to grip mine, already pulling me toward the door. “Come on. While they’re distracted downstairs.”
My legs feel weak, but I force them to move, letting Jax guide me out of the bathroom. The nest room is a mess—one of the floor-to-ceiling windows shattered, an icy breeze flowing in. Jax keeps me behind him, his gun ready as we approach the hallway.
A crash from below makes me jump. Someone shouts—Stone’s voice, though I can’t make out the words. The sound of it tears at something in my chest. They’re fighting because of me. Getting hurt because of me. Could die because of me.
“Jax,” I whisper, gripping his arm. “I can’t just?—”
“Yes, you can and you will,” he cuts me off, voice low and fierce. “We protect what’s ours, Hailey. That’s not negotiable.”
The fierce possessiveness in his tone, the unwavering certainty—it makes my throat tight with emotions I can’t even name. But before I can respond, more gunfire erupts downstairs, followed by the sound of breaking furniture and what might be Stone’s roar of fury.
Jax tenses, his whole body coiling like a spring. The conflict is clear on his face—the need to get me to safety warring with his instinct to help his pack mate. I know that feeling. It’s clawing at my insides, too.
“Go,” I whisper, pushing at his shoulder. “Go help them. I’ll hide?—”
“Not a chance in hell,” he growls, pulling me closer. “They knew exactly where to find you in that bathroom. They’re not winging this, Hailey. They came prepared.”
He’s right, and the realization creates a glacier in my veins. They knew the layout. Knew where I’d likely be. Which means…
A floorboard creaks behind us.
Jax spins, shoving me behind him as he raises his gun, but he’s not quite fast enough. The newcomer tackles him with brutal force, sending them both crashing into the wall. Some of the framed pictures hanging there fall and shatter just as the gun goes flying, skittering across the floor and disappearing into the darkness.
I scramble back, my heart in my throat as I watch them grapple. This attacker is massive, easily matching Jax for size, and they move with the deadly efficiency of someone extensively trained. Just like the one in the bathroom. Just like…
My blood runs cold. These aren’t random betas from the Academy. These are trained mercenaries .
Jax and the intruder slam into the hallway wall again, trading vicious blows. Even in the dim light, I can see they’re evenly matched. But Jax is fighting with something the operative doesn’t have: raw, protective fury.
I need to help. My eyes dart around frantically, searching for the gun, but in the chaos and darkness, I can’t spot it. The sound of flesh hitting flesh draws my attention back to the fight. Jax has the mercenary in a chokehold, but the man drives his elbow back into Jax’s ribs with brutal force. Once, twice, three times until Jax’s grip loosens.
The mercenary uses the moment of weakness to break free, spinning to deliver a kick that catches Jax in the chest. He stumbles back, and I see the mercenary reach for something at his belt—the metallic glint of a knife.
Pure instinct takes over. I grab the nearest thing I can find—one of Finn’s precious houseplants—and swing it with all my strength. The flowerpot connects with the back of the mercenary’s head with a satisfying crack, sending him staggering forward. Jax doesn’t waste the opening. He grabs the man’s knife hand, twisting until something snaps. The mercenary howls, but Jax is already moving, driving his knee up into the man’s solar plexus before following through with an uppercut that lifts the mercenary off his feet.
The man crumples, but Jax doesn’t stop. He straddles the fallen intruder, raining down blows with a savagery that holds me frozen. Blood sprays across the wall, and still Jax doesn’t stop.
“Jax,” I whisper, reaching for him. “Jax, he’s down.”
He freezes at my touch, his chest heaving. When he turns to look at me, his eyes are almost black with fury. Blood drips from his split knuckles, and there’s already a bruise forming along his jaw.
More sounds of fighting drift up from below, reminding us we’re not safe yet. Jax pushes to his feet, pulling me close as his eyes scan the darkness.
“We need to move,” he says roughly. “Now. ”
Right. But then I remember the gun. My focus darts to where it skittered across the floor during the initial attack. In the dim light filtering through the broken window, I catch a glint of metal partially hidden under a fallen picture frame near the wall.
“The gun,” I whisper, pointing. Jax follows my gaze and moves to retrieve it, keeping his body between me and the hallway. The sound of fighting downstairs has shifted—it sounds closer to the stairs now.
Jax checks the gun quickly, his movements quick despite his bloodied knuckles. A crash from below makes me jump, followed by Stone’s voice—a warning shout that’s cut off too quickly.
“Stone,” I breathe, my heart clenching. But Jax’s hand closes around my arm, pulling me toward the far end of the hallway.
“Back stairs,” he says quietly.
“Back stairs?”
“Through the study in my room. We need to?—”
He stops abruptly, shoving me behind him as footsteps thunder up the main staircase. Multiple sets, getting closer. We’re still too far from the study—at least thirty feet of open hallway between us and safety. My pulse roars in my ears as I realize we’ll never make it in time. They’ll have clear shots at us before we’re halfway there.
Jax’s jaw clenches as he backs us against the wall, gun trained on the staircase where the footsteps are growing louder. His bedroom door seems to mock us from its distance, so close and yet impossibly far.
“When I move,” he breathes, so quiet I barely hear him, “get into my room, head to the study, and barricade the door.”
“I don’t want to leave you out here,” I hiss back, but he cuts me off with a sharp look that brooks no argument.
“Three seconds,” he says. The footsteps are almost at the top of the stairs now. “One…”
A shadow appears at the end of the hallway.
“Two… ”
The shadow is a hulking beast. Definitely an alpha. Bigger than the others.
“Three—”
But before he can move, before either of us can react, something comes hurtling up from the darkness below—a massive shape that slams into the mercenary with bone-crushing force.
Stone.
Stone’s roar shakes the walls as he drives the mercenary into the floor with devastating force. He’s bleeding from a cut above his eye, still naked and somehow more terrifying for it—pure alpha fury unleashed. The mercenary tries to bring up his weapon, but Stone catches his wrist and slams it against the floor until the gun clatters free.
Stone has his target locked in a brutal struggle on the ground, but I spot movement behind him—a mercenary emerging from the shadows, weapon raised at Stone’s exposed back.
My warning dies in my throat as a shot rings out. But it wasn’t Jax who fired.
Time stills; my whole world goes still.
Stone…
But Stone jerks at the sound of the gunshot, too. He’s still alive. Behind him, the mercenary that was coming up the stairs just…stops moving. For a moment, it’s like the air doesn’t move. And then, the mercenary’s body falls like a log. The silence that follows feels deafening.
Another shot cracks through the air and the operative pinning Stone jerks violently and goes limp.
“What…” Jax breathes, a protective arm still pushing me back. Through the shadows, a figure materializes at the top of the stairs—tall, lethal grace in every movement. Even before he steps into the dim light, I know who it is.
Ren.
His face is carved from stone, eyes cold and deadly as he surveys the scene. The gun in his hand looks like an extension of his arm, as natural as breathing.
“You’re getting sloppy, Stone,” he says, his voice carrying easily despite its quietness. “Have you forgotten everything I taught you? Letting them get this close.”
Stone pushes to his feet, grimacing as blood runs down his arm. “And where the fuck have you been?” he grunts.
“Took out their backup outside,” Ren says, stepping over a fallen mercenary. “Four more in the perimeter. Won’t be a problem anymore.” There’s something chilling about how matter-of-fact he is about it.
A groan from downstairs draws everyone’s attention. There’s the sound of something hard hitting flesh.
“ Fuck you.” The sound of Finn’s voice makes a strange relieved sort of laugh rattle through my chest.
“That’s enough of that,” Ren says softly. To Stone: “You’ll want to call this in. I’ve already contacted some people who’ll handle cleanup, but you’ll need official channels, too.”
The light flicks on, and I flinch at the sudden brightness. Then I see—really see—what’s around us, and my breath stops in my throat. I thought I knew what had happened. I was here, after all. I felt the impacts, heard the gunshots, smelled the copper tang of blood. But seeing it laid bare under harsh lights is different.
The hallway looks like a war zone. Blood spatters the cream-colored walls, pooling dark and sticky on the hardwood floor. I don’t realize I’m moving forward till my bare foot hits the arm of the mercenary Jax had been fighting. I can see down the stairs now. Bodies lie crumpled where they fell, limbs bent at unnatural angles. One of them is still twitching. The pristine house has been transformed into something out of a nightmare, and I was part of making it that way.
My stomach lurches, and I have to lock my knees to keep standing.
Finn appears at the bottom of the stairs, bat still in hand and sporting what’s definitely going to be a spectacular black eye. “Cops are already on their way,” he says. “Silent alarm triggered when they broke into the house.”
The adrenaline is starting to fade, leaving me shaky and acutely aware that I’m standing here naked, covered in someone else’s blood. Ren moves past us silently, disappearing into the nest room for a moment before returning with blankets from the pile we’d left rumpled on the bed just hours ago. He wraps one carefully around my shoulders. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since Stone made him leave after the incident. His hands are steady now, nothing like they were that night, but there’s still something raw in his eyes when they meet mine.
“How did you know?” Finn asks. He’s climbed up the stairs and he accepts another blanket from Ren. His eye is already swelling shut, ugly bruises blooming across his chest.
Ren’s gaze meets mine again, and something flickers in their depths. “I always know when my pack is in danger.” He looks at Stone. “Get that arm looked at. These weren’t amateurs.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Stone mutters, but there’s respect in his voice. The hostility from the past few minutes seems temporarily forgotten in the wake of this. “Academy trained?”
“Better,” Ren says grimly. “We’ll discuss it later.” His gaze sweeps over all of us, cataloging injuries—Stone’s arm, Finn’s eye, Jax’s bloodied knuckles. Finally, his eyes return to me, and I see a flash of the guilt that drove him away. “You okay?”
I manage a nod, though ‘okay’ feels like a relative term right now.
Sirens wail in the distance, growing closer. Ren’s expression hardens as he looks at the fallen mercenaries.
Jax comes to stand behind me. “I will handle the police. We’ll keep it simple—home invasion, multiple attackers, self-defense. Finn, get her somewhere safe. And Ren?—”
“You stall them. I’ll deal with the rest.”
The way he says ‘deal with’ sends a chill down my spine, but I don’t question it. Can’t question it, when these men just risked everything to protect me—even Ren, who came back despite everything.
“Come on,” Stone murmurs, tugging me gently toward his room. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
As we move away, I hear Ren speaking quietly to Jax: “We’ve got a bigger problem than just these mercs…”