I didn't care.
I just held him.
They took Cal to the infirmary.
His arm was shattered in three places. The claws had torn through muscle, nicked an artery, come within millimeters of severing tendons that would have left him crippled.
He'd live.
Martinez was worse. The impact of going through the window had cracked four ribs, collapsed a lung, lacerated his liver. Rae healed him first.
Stone wouldn't look at anyone.
After they moved him to a secure room—reinforced walls, no furniture he could destroy—he'd curled up in the corner and gone silent. Not catatonic. Just... empty. Staring at the wall like he could see something the rest of us couldn't.
I stayed with him.
Cole tried to make me leave. Said it wasn't safe. Said Stone was too unstable. Said a lot of things that I ignored completely.
Eventually he gave up.
"You're as stubborn as he is," Cole muttered.
"Worse."
He almost smiled.
The hours crawled by. Staff came and went—bringing water Stone wouldn't drink, food he wouldn't touch, blankets he ignored. Neal checked on him every thirty minutes, taking vitals, asking questions Stone didn't answer.
I sat against the wall across from him. Not touching. Not talking. Just... present.
Around midnight, he finally spoke.
"You should be sleeping."
I looked up. His eyes were still fixed on the wall, but he was talking. That was something.
"So should you."
"I don't deserve sleep."
"That's not how sleep works."
A long pause. "I could have killed you."
"Stone." I waited until he looked at me. "Do you want me to leave?"
The question hung in the air.
His jaw worked. I watched him struggle with it—the part that wanted to say yes, wanted to push me away to keep me safe. The part that couldn't bear to be alone.
"No," he admitted. "I don't want you to leave."
"Then I won't."
"That's not—" He exhaled. Frustrated. "You shouldn't want to stay. After what I did—"
"What you did was survive." I kept my voice steady. "You were triggered by something out of your control. You fought like hell to come back. And you did."
