24. Punishment
Istand, or at least I think I’m standing, in a space that feels both vast and suffocating. Gone is the scenery of the forest and the altar where the Breath of Selene resides.
Instead, it’s a blank slate of dense fog.
The air around me is thick, charged with a tension that makes my skin crawl.
Ahead, the shadowy figure waits—its presence oppressive and its gaze piercing.
Stone’s not by my side now. I assume this is my battle to face—my fears to confront.
The heavy mist rolls around me, each tendril whispering doubts and taunting me with my deepest insecurities. It’s like it can pull them straight out of my subconscious.
“Are you ready to face your truth, Ella?” The creature’s voice isn’t a sound—it’s a physical force that vibrates through me.
I swallow hard, my throat dry.
“I have to be,” I whisper back, unsure if my voice carries any weight here.
As the words leave my lips, the fog lifts, forming a vague, shifting tableau. Abruptly, a scene materializes from the mist, so vivid it’s as though I’m living it all over again.
I’m back to that critical moment—my first encounter with Stone.
Blood streams down my arm, the fresh wound from Doug’s bite throbbing painfully. The forest is chaotic, filled with the scents of pine and danger—and there stands Stone. He enters the devastating scene like a guardian rushing to the rescue—in his swim trunks.
His presence is both startling and immediately comforting—a strange contradiction that confused me then as much as it does now.
The memory of his eyes meeting mine for the first time sends a jolt through me. They were filled with concern but underscored by an intensity that had seemed to see right through me.
Like he had glimpsed into the very core of my soul.
Before I can understand the meaning of this scene, it shifts.
Now, it’s the day Stone burst into my house and fought off the attackers pretending to be my movers. I watch as he advances with lethal precision to protect me—his actions driven by an innate force I hadn’t fully understood then.
The memory of how safe I felt, even in the middle of my terror, washes over me, stirring a mix of gratitude and a deeper, more unnerving connection. Something I hadn’t even realized was there until this moment.
It was a stirring—a remembrance of some sort.
Like deep down, I knew he was more to me than simply a Good Samaritan.
Next, the fog conjures the intimate, startling moment when he first shifted in front of me. He had been trying to get my attention—needing to help me understand what was coming for me.
His transformation from man to wolf was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. His white wolf was—is—so beautiful.
The scene unfolds as if peeled from the pages of my life, not a mere replay but a raw reliving.
I’m standing in my bedroom with the chaos of moving boxes strewn around. My heart thrums wildly in my chest as Stone, no longer a majestic white wolf, reappears in front of me as a man.
The sudden shift from beast to human didn’t give me the respite I might have hoped for back then—instead, it added another layer of intensity.
He’s there, in the flesh, bare and unshielded, his presence filling the room with an electric charge.
God, he’s gorgeous. Even now, I recognize it. Revel in it.
My breath catches—not just at the sight of him so exposed again, but at the rush of memories that flood through me. His naked vulnerability juxtaposes sharply against the palpable strength that emanates from him—the kind of paradox that drew me in deeper.
Then and now.
Of course, then we had kissed. Briefly. It was just a taste.
His lips had brushed against mine gently, hesitantly, as if he felt overwhelmed by the force of our connection and was unsure how to wield it.
I so related.
That kiss, soft yet fraught with the tension of unspoken promises and restrained desires, had been a spark. I remember the heat, the undeniable pull toward him, feeling simultaneously scared and exhilarated.
Hell, I thought I was losing my damned mind.
I pull back slightly in the memory, watching as we part—both of us breathless and unsure.
It had been a moment of raw yearning, and it had terrified me—not because of the supernatural elements that had begun to infiltrate my life, but because of the sheer intensity of my feelings for Stone.
Feelings I wasn’t ready to admit, even to myself.
Feelings I shouldn’t have even had at that point.
Not if I was a sane woman.
The fog shifts again, revealing more instances where I had held back. Each scene plays out with painful clarity—moments laden with the raw sexual tension between us. Moments where I could have reached out, could have accepted the bond, and allowed him in. But each time, I hesitated, scared of the implications—scared of how it would change my life and the lives of my kids.
There’s the time I’d been warned about other Alphas who might try to claim me if the bond wasn’t consummated. Yet, I’d dismissed the warnings as overprotective—not fully comprehending the supernatural world and the depth of our connection.
On and on they go.
Little moments where I could see the pained expression in Stone’s eyes, but I still fell into his patience, his loyalty, and love.
I pushed aside the calling and reasoned with myself as to why.
And then the scene shifts to one of the most painful memories as of late—the night of our planned bath date. I had been so excited, so ready to finally let go and embrace whatever was between us after our shared experience through our mental bond the night before.
But then Troy had happened, dredging up old pains and doubts, and I had completely stood Stone up, spending the night getting drunk and venting to Jinx instead.
The pain of that evening returns with a vengeance, a sharp sting of regret for what might have been. That night could have changed everything—could have been the beginning of truly accepting the bond and seeing where it led.
Instead, I let fear and the past rule me.
The fog around me thickens as the memories continue to unfold, each one a sharp reminder of the walls I’ve built around my heart.
I’ve been hiding behind these walls, using my past hurts and fears as bricks, laying them one by one until I’ve built a fortress to protect myself and my kids. But in doing so, I’ve also kept Stone out—kept out the one person who has shown me nothing but dedication and care.
God, I’m so stupid.
In the mist, the memories slow, focusing on that missed bath date and the realization of what I had done the following morning.
The creature’s voice breaks through the cascade of memories, deep and resonant, echoing in my mind, “You have pushed him away, time and again. Yet, he remains. Why do you fear this bond, Ella?”
The question hangs heavy in the air, and I feel the weight of it in my chest.
My fear... it’s always been about losing control—about being hurt again.
After Troy, after feeling so foolish and so used, the idea of opening up, of allowing myself to depend on someone else so completely... it terrifies me.
But as the scenes play out before me, I see the cost of my fear. Stone’s face in each memory is filled with understanding and patience… but also a hint of sorrow. There’s a silent wish for something more hidden in those green depths.
Something I’ve denied us both out of a misplaced sense of self-preservation.
The realization hits me hard—like a physical blow to the gut. This isn’t just about protecting myself. It’s about fear of what life would be if I truly let someone in again. It’s about the challenge of accepting a love that could consume and redefine my entire existence.
“I’ve been punishing us both,” I admit aloud, my voice wavering slightly.
The words feel like an acknowledgment of a deeply buried truth, one that’s painful yet liberating.
As the words tumble from my lips, the fog seems to react, swirling around me in a gentle caress, almost as if it’s urging me to delve deeper into this revelation.
The creature’s presence, once daunting, now feels more like a guide—a sentinel on my journey of self-discovery.
What is this place? A magical truth realm?
“I’ve been so focused on not repeating my past mistakes, that I didn’t see that I was making new ones,” I continue, my voice gaining strength as the weight of my admissions anchors me more firmly in this surreal landscape. “By guarding so fiercely against hurt, I’ve denied myself the chance to truly live. To truly love.”
The mist shifts again, scenes flashing faster now, as if eager to show me the breadth of what I’ve missed. Stone’s laughter on a sunny day in the park with the kids, his hand reaching for mine across the dinner table, his eyes alight with passion and hope.
Each memory punctuates the stark contrast between what could have been and the cold distance I imposed.
“Each moment I held back, I told myself I was being prudent—responsible. But what I was really doing was letting fear steer my life. Not just my life, but Stone’s too, and my kids’,” I confess, the heaviness of my previous choices pressing down on me.
The creature’s voice surrounds me, not with judgment, but with a clarity that cuts through the fog. “What will you do with this understanding, Ella?”
The question lingers in the air, echoing around me as the scenes start to slow, settling on that last night—the missed bath date.
Tears prickle at the edges of my eyes as I remember the hurt that flickered across Stone’s face when I finally found him so I could apologize.
“I need to make it right,” I whisper, the fog around me thinning as if my resolve is pushing it back.
With a deep, cleansing breath, I look up, finding the shadowy figure before me less intimidating, and more comforting at this point.
“I’m ready,” I declare, not just to the creature, but to myself. “I’m ready to face this. I’m ready to fully embrace the bond, and fight for a future where I don’t just survive, but thrive. With Stone by my side.”
The creature nods, and a path clears through the fog, leading forward.
As I take a step toward the path, ready to confront whatever awaits with newfound courage, the world around me starts to blur.
The dense fog that had enveloped my every moment begins to dissolve as if melting away under the force of my decision.
But the shift is too sudden—too unexpected.
Instead of transitioning to another scene of revelation or the chance to confront Stone, the astral plane collapses entirely—dragging me back to a jarring reality.
I blink against the harsh, abrupt return to the physical world. My body recoils slightly on the cold, hard floor of the Integratron. The wooden beams of the ceiling swim into focus above me, stark and unyielding against the backdrop of my disorientation.
I was so close. I could feel it.
What happened?
Stone is already sitting up next to me. His expression mirrors my confusion as his wide eyes scan the room.
“What happened?” he asks, his voice rough.
I push myself up, feeling every muscle tense and unyielding, as if they too protest the sudden return.
“I don’t know,” I reply, my mind racing through the last moments in the astral plane—the revelations, the acceptance, and then... this unexpected ejection.
It doesn’t make any sense.
We sit there, side by side, in the silence of the Integratron, the weight of unfinished business pressing down on us.
The air feels thick, charged with a tension that speaks of interrupted processes and incomplete transitions.
“Did we do something wrong?” Stone’s question hangs between us, tinged with insecurity.
I shake my head, more out of confusion than certainty.
“It felt like I was just getting to something... important.” My words trail off as I try to grasp the elusive threads of enlightenment that had seemed so within reach just moments before.
“We were kicked out,” Stone concludes, his tone flat, stating the obvious which does nothing to alleviate the sense of failure that starts to creep in. “But why? We weren’t done.”
The quiet of the Integratron feels oppressive now. I look around, half-expecting to find an answer etched in the shadows.
“Maybe it’s part of the trial?” I speculate, grasping at straws, trying to find a sliver of sense in what feels like an arbitrary end to our profound journey. “Or maybe we weren’t ready for what comes next.”
Stone nods slowly, his gaze still distant. “Or we missed something crucial. Something that was supposed to guide us further?”
Frustration bubbles up within me, mingling with the remnants of revelations that now seem so distant.
The need to understand—to return and complete what we started, feels like the most important thing in the world.