Stone didn't look convinced. But he didn't argue either.
"There's blood on your neck," he said instead. His voice had gone flat. Hollow. "I did that."
I'd forgotten about the wounds. They'd stopped hurting—or maybe I'd just stopped noticing.
"It's nothing. Scratches."
"I could have killed you." His hands released mine. Pulled away. "I had my teeth on your throat. I could have—"
"But you didn't."
"I wanted to." The words came out like a confession. Like a crime. "Part of me wanted to. The wolf wanted—"
"But you didn't." I grabbed his hands again, refusing to let him retreat. "You stopped. You chose to stop. That's what matters."
"You don't understand." His eyes were anguished. "I'm not—I'm not safe. I'm not in control. The wolf is still there. It's always there. And if I lose hold of it again—if I slip—"
"Then we deal with it. Together."
"I could hurt you. I could hurt all of you."
"You won't."
"You can't know that."
"I know you." I held his gaze. Refused to look away. "I've been sitting outside your barrier for weeks, Stone. I've felt everything you feel. The rage. The fear. The grief. And underneath all of it—the part of you that's been fighting so hard to stay alive even when you wanted to give up." I squeezed his hands. "That's the part that matters. That's the part I'm betting on."
Stone stared at me. His expression changed—slowly, like a wall giving way to something it could no longer hold back.
His eyes filled with tears.
I don't think he knew he was crying.
He looked down at them. At the wetness on his skin. Like he didn't understand what was happening.
"I can't," he said. "I can't do this. I can't—"
His body shuddered. Spasmed.
I felt it through the bond before I saw it—the wolf rising back up. The shift trying to reverse.
"Stone, no—"
"Can't stop it." His voice was strangled. His hands were changing in mine—fingers shortening, nails darkening, bones beginning to crack and reform. "Can't—"
"It's okay." I held on tighter. "It's okay. If you need to shift, shift. I'll be here when you come back."
"Don't want—" His jaw elongated. His words became garbled, impossible. "Don't want to lose—"
"You won't lose me. I promise. I'm not going anywhere."
The shift took him.
It was faster than before—his body remembered the wolf shape, fell into it with something like relief. Within seconds, the man was gone, and the wolf lay in my lap instead. Trembling. Exhausted.
But his eyes—still gold, still present—found mine.
And through the bond, I felt something I'd never felt from him before.
