Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Stone was pacing when I arrived — the same restless circuit, back and forth, back and forth. But he stopped when he heard my voice. Turned toward the window. Watched as I settled into the chair that had become mine.
"Tomlinson gave us an extension on the paper," I said. "Two more days. I think he felt sorry for me. Or maybe he just got tired of students crying in his office. Either way, I'll take it."
Stone's ears flicked. Not relaxed — never relaxed — but present. Attentive.
"I actually started reading the source material during lunch.
Selkie myths, mostly. Transformation narratives where the changed person tries to return to their original state.
" I pulled my knees up, got comfortable.
"There's this one story about a woman who finds her seal skin after years of living as a human.
Her children watch her put it on and swim away.
The story doesn't say if she ever came back. "
He lay down.
Not curled up, not comfortable. Just lowered himself to the floor, weight on his haunches, eyes still fixed on me through the glass. Ready to spring at the first sign of threat.
But down. That was something.
"I keep thinking about the children," I continued. "In the story. They just watched their mother leave. They didn't try to stop her. Didn't beg her to stay. Like they understood that she was never really theirs to keep."
Stone's tail twitched. Once.
I talked until my voice went hoarse. About class. About the weather — grey and threatening snow. About the dining hall serving something they called "mystery casserole" that James refused to touch.
When I left, Stone was still lying down.
Progress.
The next morning, I came back before my first class.
He was waiting.
That was the only word for it. Not pacing, not raging. Just standing near the barrier, head turned toward the door, like he'd known I was coming.
Something in my chest loosened.
"Morning," I said, settling into the chair. "I brought coffee. Well, I brought coffee for me. I don't think you'd like it. Do wolves even drink coffee? Probably not."
Stone lay down. Faster this time. Less hesitation.
I talked about nothing. The weather — it had snowed overnight, just a dusting. The oatmeal at breakfast — too thick, slightly burnt. The way Ivy had threatened me when i woke her up too early this morning.
"She's terrifying," I said. "Ivy, I mean. In the best way. She doesn't yell or threaten violence. She just looks at people like she's already planned their downfall and is waiting for the right moment to execute it."
Stone's ear twitched.
"You'd like her, I think. Or hate her. Probably both."
I checked the time. Class in twenty minutes.
"I have to go," I said. "But I'll come back tonight."
Stone didn't respond. Just watched me with those gold eyes that had stopped looking like they wanted to kill me.
I counted that as a win.
I found Cal in the east wing before I left.
He was in his usual spot — curled on the floor outside the room where his packmates were being held. Wolf form, as always. He rarely shifted to human anymore.
"Hey," I said softly, settling down beside him.
His tail moved. Once. Acknowledgment.
"How are they?"
A low sound. Not quite a whine, not quite a growl. Something in between.
Through the observation window, I could see the four ferals. They were huddled together in the far corner of the room — a pile of fur and bones, barely distinguishable from each other. Three of them were asleep, or something close to it. The fourth—
The gray one was watching us.
"Cal." I touched his shoulder. "Look."
He lifted his head.
The gray feral was on his feet now. Separated from the others by a few inches — not much, but noticeable. His eyes were fixed on the window. On Cal.
Cal made a sound. Low, uncertain. A question.
The gray one's ear flicked.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he held Cal's gaze.
Three seconds. Four. Five.
An eternity, for a creature who had forgotten what connection meant.
Then the gray one looked away. Settled back down with the others. The moment was over.
But Cal was trembling beside me. Through our bond, I felt his emotion — hope and grief and desperate longing, all tangled together.
"He remembers you," I said quietly.
Cal whined. Pressed closer to me.
"He's in there, Cal. Somewhere underneath all the fear."
I sat with him until I had to leave for class. Watched the gray feral sleep. Looked for signs of the person he'd been.
I came back that evening, as promised.
The security guard was already inside the observation room when I arrived.
Young, nervous, clearly new to the job. He was standing at the monitoring station, checking something on a tablet, not even looking at Stone.
It didn't matter.
Stone was already raging.
Throwing himself at the barrier with a violence that made the wall shudder. Snarling, snapping, claws scraping against the reinforced surface with a sound that made my teeth ache. All the calm we'd built — this morning, last night — gone. Just like that.
"Miss Orlav." The guard turned when he heard me enter. "You're not supposed to be in here without—"
"Get out."
"I need to verify—"
"Get. Out." I stepped toward him, forcing him to step back. "You being here is making things worse. Leave. Now."
Something in my expression must have convinced him. He left.
But the damage was done.
Stone was still raging — throwing himself at the barrier with a fury that made the previous day look gentle. His eyes were wild again, unfocused, seeing only threats.
"Stone." I pressed both palms against the glass. "Stone, it's okay. He's gone. It's just me."
No response. Just the endless, desperate violence of an animal that had remembered it was trapped.
I talked. About nothing, about everything. About the snow melting on the pathways, about the paper I still hadn't started, about the way James's eyes crinkled when he laughed.
Stone kept throwing himself at the wall.
I talked about about dinner. About the gray feral holding Cal's gaze, about the hope I'd seen in my mate's eyes.
Stone's impacts slowed. Slightly.
I talked about the mountain. About James following me. About finding Cal. About dragging him off Denali.
Stone stopped lunging. Started pacing instead.
I talked until my voice gave out. Then I sat in silence, watching him circle his cell, and let the bond carry what words couldn't.
Two hours passed. Three.
The pacing slowed. Became less frantic, less desperate.
By the time I finally stood to leave, Stone was standing still in the center of his cell. Not lying down — we'd lost that. But not attacking the walls either.
He watched me go.
Through the bond, I felt his exhaustion. His confusion. The war between instinct and something else — our bond.
I made it to the corridor before my legs gave out.
I found a bench and sat down hard. Let my head fall into my hands.
This wasn't working. Every time we made progress, something shattered it. The interruptions were unpredictable. I couldn't control them. Couldn't protect the fragile space we were building.
"Lumi."
I looked up.
Neal was standing in the corridor, tablet in hand, watching me with an expression caught between concern and clinical assessment.
"You look terrible," he said.
"Thanks."
"I mean it." He sat down beside me. Close, but not touching. "You've been in there for hours. When did you last eat?"
I tried to remember. Couldn't.
"You need to pace yourself," he said quietly. "This isn't sustainable."
"If I don't come, he thinks I've abandoned him."
"If you collapse, you won't be able to help him at all."
He wasn't wrong. I knew he wasn't wrong. But the thought of not going, of leaving Stone alone with his rage and his fear—
"I can't stop," I said. "Neal, I can't. He was calmer this morning. He was waiting for me. And then that guard walked in and everything—" My voice cracked. "I have to keep showing up. Even when it falls apart. Especially when it falls apart."
Neal was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached out and took my hand.
"I'm worried about you," he said. "We all are. James feels your exhaustion through the bond. And I—" He stopped. Swallowed. "I don't know how to help you."
I looked at our hands. His fingers wrapped around mine. Warm. Solid.
"He's starting to trust me," I said. "Stone. Under all the rage, there's something else now. Something that wants to believe I'm not going to hurt him."
"And when someone interrupts? When all that trust disappears?"
"Then I build it again." I met his eyes. "As many times as it takes."
Neal stared at me for a long moment. Something shifted in his expression — the clinical distance giving way to something warmer.
"You're incredible," he said quietly. "And completely insane."
"Probably both."
"Definitely both." He squeezed my hand. "At least let me bring you food. And sleep more than four hours tonight."
"I'll try."
"You'll do more than try." He stood, pulling me up with him. "James is in the cafeteria. You're going to eat. Then you're going to sleep. Doctor's orders."
I let him lead me down the corridor. Let myself lean on him, just a little.
Tomorrow, I'd go back to Stone's cell. Sit in that chair. Talk about whatever mundane things came to mind.
And if someone interrupted again—
I'd start over.
As many times as it took.
Because that's what you did for pack. For family. For the people you refused to let go of.
You kept showing up.
Even when it hurt.