"He doesn't show aggression toward me." I cut him off. My voice was steady. Certain. "He never has. Even at his worst, even when he's destroying himself, he stops when I ask him to. He listens to me."
"Listening and not killing you are not the same thing."
"No. But it's something." I stood. Faced Neal across the desk. "I feel him, Neal. All the time. His pain. His fear. His desperation. And underneath all of it—underneath the rage and the terror—there's something else. Something that wants to live. Something that wants to let me in."
"You can't know that."
"I do know it. The bond tells me." I pressed my hand against my chest, where Stone's presence pulsed like a second heartbeat. "He's fighting because he's scared. Because something happened to him that made human feel like death. But he's not fighting me. He's fighting himself."
Neal was quiet for a long moment. His expression shifted—fear giving way to something more complicated. Something that looked like recognition.
"Even if you're right," he said slowly, "even if he wouldn't hurt you intentionally—he might not be able to control himself. The feral state compromises higher brain function. Impulse control. The ability to distinguish between threat and non-threat."
"I know the risks."
"Do you? Really?" Neal stepped closer. His voice dropped. "If you go in there and he attacks you, there's a chance I can’t help you in time. The security team won't reach you in time. James won't reach you in time. You'll be alone with a wolf who has demonstrated the capacity for extreme violence, and if something goes wrong—"
"Then something goes wrong." I held his gaze. "But I can't watch him die, Neal. I can't stand outside that barrier and feel him slip away knowing there was something I could have done."
"There might not be anything you can do. This might not work."
"Or it might." I reached out, took his hand. "I'm not asking for your permission. I'm asking for your help. Open the door for me."
Neal stared at me. Through me. I could see the war happening behind his eyes—the doctor fighting the mate fighting the man who loved me and didn't want to watch me walk into danger.
"The override codes are in Rae's system," he said finally. His voice was hoarse. "I have access."
"Then let's go."
James was waiting outside Stone's room when we arrived.
I felt him before I saw him—his end of our bond thrumming with fear and frustration, emotions so strong they nearly overwhelmed my own.
"No," he said the moment he saw my face. "Absolutely not."
"James—"
"I can feel what you're planning. I felt it the moment you decided." He stepped in front of me, blocking the corridor. "You're not going in there."
"Yes, I am."
"He'll kill you, Lumi. You've seen what he does. You've seen—"
"I've seen him dying." My voice was quiet. I stepped closer and grabbed his hips. Steady. "I've seen him choose death over the bond, over me, over everything. And I can't watch him give up. Not when there's something I can do."
"There's nothing you can do. He's feral. He's broken. Some things can't be fixed."
"You don't know that."
"And you don't know he won't tear your throat out the second you cross that barrier." James grabbed my shoulders. "I love you. Do you understand that? I love you, and I can't lose you to some suicide mission that probably won't even work."
"It might work."
"And it might not. And then you'll be dead, and he'll still be dead, and the rest of us—" His voice cracked. "The rest of us will have to live with that. Forever."
I reached up. Cupped his face in my hands. Made him look at me.
"I know you're scared," I said softly. "I'm scared too. But Stone is my mate. Just like you are. Just like Neal and Cal. I can't choose between you—I can't decide that some of you are worth saving and some of you aren't."
