The evening air was thick with the promise of an impending storm—both in the afternoon sky and within Stone himself.
He stalked through the streets, the weight of his boots against the pavement echoing the tumultuous beat of his heart. His mind was a oscillating between confusion and frustration—emotions that seemed foreign… yet overwhelmingly his own.
He couldn’t make sense of what was happening.
One moment he felt centered. The next, it was as if everything and everyone around him was begging to have their ass handed to them and he was the one who would gladly do it.
Then there was a small glimmer inside him that felt giddy—connected to Ella in a way he’d longed for.
They’d had sex, that much he could surmise, but every time he caught a glimpse of that joy, the darkness inside his mind took over, threatening to take him under.
Stone had been around the supernatural block all his life. He knew when something unnatural was at work within him. And now was certainly one of those times.
It felt like a possession.
But how could that be?
He didn’t know what had happened back at the ritual site, but he knew it had to be the cause of whatever this was. That site must have been cursed and they stumbled right into it.
What else could it be?
And if that was the case, there was only one place that would have answers.
The hidden bar downtown, a place he associated with Andres and his stupid witches, loomed in his thoughts, an unwelcome beacon in his turmoil. Tonight, much like it was a couple of days ago, it was not just a destination but a symbol of his desperate search for answers.
He would confront the witches and make them set things right.
If he could hold onto his intentions long enough to make it happen, that was.
After the way he had spoken to Ella, he wasn’t so sure he could trust himself and the words that would come out of his mouth. But he had to try.
Now that he was further from her, his head seemed to clear a bit, allowing him to focus and feel more in control—but only just. Sometimes, the anger would come in waves and no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop the vitriol from spewing.
Stone’s stride was purposeful, driven by the unshakable conviction that the witches who helped Andres were behind the shitstorm of feelings threatening to engulf him.
Even though the bar was hidden from view thanks to a spell meant to keep its secrets—he knew it existed. Knew where it was now.
He’d find a way in.
As it turned out, since he already knew the bar was there—the only thing Stone needed was the ability to turn a doorknob he couldn’t see with his physical eyes. After fumbling against the wall for a few moments, he located the handle and pulled open the door.
The familiar rush of noise and dimly lit chaos enveloped him as he descended the stairs. He paused, letting his eyes adjust, his senses on high alert. The scent of magic, subtle but unmistakable, hung in the air, and it was a potent reminder of why he had come.
Those fucking witches would fix him—fix whatever the hell this was.
The patrons parted before him, perhaps sensing the storm that walked in Stone’s skin.
He made his way to the bar itself, hoping for a glimpse of either of the witches who had helped Andres the other night. He knew his demeanor radiated a cold fury.
But as he approached, the realization dawned on him—the bartender and server he’d seen with Andres were nowhere to be found. The current staff, entirely unfamiliar faces veiled in shadows and whispers, glanced at him with a mixture of suspicion and disdain.
It was clear—he wasn’t welcome here.
This wasn’t a bar for werewolves, especially not one visibly teetering on the edge of his own darkness.
“Are you lost, wolf?” The bartender’s voice was edged with a cold hostility that matched the chill in the air. He crossed his tatted arms across his broad chest and glared at Stone.
The underlying message was clear: leave.
Stone’s jaw tightened, his eyes scanning the dim interior for any sign of the witches.
“I’m looking for someone,” he replied, his voice coming out in almost a growl.
“Not about to help your kind,” the bartender shot back, already turning away to attend to another patron—a pixie, by the look of her.
The patrons’ eyes felt like daggers on Stone’s back as he stood there, a lone wolf among a crowd that wanted nothing to do with him. The air was thick with an unspoken warning—push further, and consequences would follow.
Just one problem.
He was game.
Hell, he hoped one of them would make a move. Again, a fresh wave of rage burned inside Stone’s chest and he was more than happy to let it out.
Stone’s gaze swept across the room, his supernatural senses stretching out, seeking any hint of the witches’ presence, but it was as if they had vanished into thin air, leaving him grappling with an enemy he couldn’t see or confront.
They were probably with Andres, the bastards.
The bar, once a source of potential answers, now felt like a maze designed to trap and confuse.
A sudden laughter erupted from the other end of the bar, slicing through the tension. Stone turned, his eyes locking with a small group who seemed to find amusement in his predicament.
“No one wants what you got, pup,” one jeered, a smirk playing across his lips.
Stone couldn’t tell what kind of creature the guy was, he just knew he was about to go down.
“What did you say?” Stone’s hand clenched into a fist at his side, the urge to strike, to unleash, nearly overwhelming.
The creature stood up, revealing himself to be a half-troll, half-something else that Stone couldn’t quite place. His smirk widened as he stepped closer, the crowd parting like the sea.
“What, are you deaf? I said, no one wants you here. Why don’t you go back to your pack and whimper about how the supe bar wouldn’t let you drown your sorrows. Or won’t they let you into the club either?” the half-troll taunted, his voice grating against Stone’s already frayed nerves.
That was all it took. Stone lunged forward, propelled by a rage that felt both alien and his own. His fist connected with the half-troll’s face, the impact sending a shockwave through his arm.
The fight erupted into chaos, with Stone at the center, a tempest let loose.
As punches flew and magic sparked in the air, a dangerous thrill surged through Stone. He was dimly aware of the destruction, of the panic as patrons scrambled to escape the fray, but he couldn’t stop. His mind was a red haze. Every hit, every block driven by the turmoil inside him.
Then, just as he was about to deliver a blow that would surely end the half-troll’s taunting for good, a flash of memory struck him—vivid and terrifying.
It was the night he had lost control and killed a human. The moment that had forever changed him—casting him out of the pack and into the life of an Omega. It was a scar upon his soul that even now enveloped him.
The memory surged through him, a cold wave that doused the flames of his rage.
His fist hovered inches from the half-troll’s face, trembling with the effort to hold back. The realization of what he was about to do—what he had almost allowed himself to become again—washed over him, leaving a chilling wake.
The half-troll, sensing the sudden shift, scrambled backward, his eyes wide with shock and fear.
Stone stood there, his chest heaving, surrounded by the wreckage of his anger. The silence that followed was more damning than any words could have been.
He looked around, the reality of what he had almost done settling in. The bar was in shambles. The patrons either fled or cowered—or looked ready to fight.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Ella, her expression one of deep concern.
When had she arrived?
“Stone, let’s go. Now,” she said, her words packing a powerful punch. There was no room for argument—not when his Alpha commanded it.
Behind her, Jinx and another woman stood—both seemed to be caught between appreciation and horror.
“Well, aren’t you the life of the party, Stone,” Jinx quipped, surveying the damage with a whistle. “Didn’t know you had it in you, to be honest. I’m kinda impressed.”
Stone couldn’t muster the energy to respond, the weight of his actions and the flash of memories leaving him drained and hollow. He simply nodded, his gaze lingering on the destruction his hands had wrought.
The other woman stepped forward, her hands glowing with a soft, calming light. She began to murmur under her breath, her voice a gentle balm in the tense atmosphere.
“Let’s not draw more attention than we already have,” she said to Ella, her magic weaving through the air, somehow attempting to soothe frayed nerves and mend what had been broken.
The spell, however, seemed to falter against the lingering aura of Stone’s anger, the remnants of the fight proving resistant to her efforts.
“Well, it’s not working as I hoped,” the woman admitted with a sigh.
“What are you looking at?” Jinx said, her eyes fixed on a patron in the corner.
A young witch in a corner booth dropped her gaze to the tabletop, only to piss herself.
Stone snickered under his breath, despite himself. Then, instantly was at war for the pleasure that gave him.
He wasn’t like this. This wasn’t him.
Or was it?
Stone felt a hand squeeze his arm—a silent command from Ella to follow. He glanced at her, the concern in her eyes mirroring his own.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, the words barely audible over the ringing in his ears. “I don’t know what’s…”
Ella shook her head, her expression softening. “I know. We’ll figure this out, Stone. Let’s get out of here.”
Without a word, Stone nodded, allowing Ella to lead him away from the scene of chaos he had created.
As they turned to leave, the bartender called out, “Don’t come back.”
Stone’s mind replayed the fight and the haunting flash of memory that had stopped him. The realization that he was walking a razor’s edge, that the darkness within him was only simmering, ready to take over, was a weight heavier than any he had ever carried.
Ella didn’t speak, and for that, Stone was grateful. He wasn’t sure he could find the words to explain the unexplainable—to voice the fear that now gnawed at him with renewed vigor.
He might lose himself to the darkness.
He might once again become the monster he had worked so hard to leave behind.
How could this have happened? Especially when they had come so close to having it all?
As they emerged into the late afternoon, Stone took a deep breath, trying to push away the darkness, the memories, and the fear. But as the adrenaline faded, leaving behind only exhaustion and a deep-seated unease, Stone knew that this fight was far from over.
He had come to the bar seeking answers—seeking a way to fight the possession he felt tightening its grip on him. Instead, he had found only more questions and a darkness within himself that he couldn’t ignore.
The storm that had been threatening before he walked into the bar finally broke and rain began to fall in heavy drops around them.
It seemed to Stone a fitting end to the day—a cleansing, perhaps, or a baptism into the battle he now knew lay ahead.
“You know, for a moment there, I thought we were going to see round two of ‘Stone vs. the Supernatural World.’ Gotta admit, part of me was kind of excited,” Jinx joked, obviously trying to lighten the mood. However, the raindrops dampened the effect—literally.
The woman beside her rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Only you would find entertainment in near-catastrophic bar fights, June.”
Stone shook his head, trying to clear it. “I’m sorry—who are you?”
Jinx’s grin widened as she wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the woman next to her. “Ah, right, introductions. Stone, meet my sister, Harmony. Though, between you and me, ‘Goodie Two Shoes’ is more like it.”
The woman offered Stone a small, polite smile. “It’s Trudie, actually. June just refuses to call me by my name.”
Jinx scoffed. “Because ‘Trudie’ just screams ‘I file taxes for fun’ and we can’t have that. It’s bad for my reputation to be associated with that vibe.”
Trudie shook her head, a fond annoyance clear in her expression. “Ignore her. She’s been like this since we were kids.”
Stone, despite the gravity of his situation, couldn’t help but be almost amused by their banter. It was a brief, much-needed reprieve from the turmoil swirling within him.
“I wish I could say it was nice to meet you, Trudie,” Stone managed to ground out, his voice still rough from the evening’s events.
Trudie’s gaze, warm yet assessing, swept over him.
“Ella has told us a little about what’s been going on with you.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she concentrated, and then she frowned. “Oh, yeah. He’s cursed and cursed good.”
Ella, who had been quietly observing, tensed at Trudie’s words. Her silence spoke volumes, the complexity of their recent encounter in the woods and the subsequent turn of events creating a chasm that words couldn’t bridge—at least not yet.
Stone felt a tug to make things right, yet, he had no idea how to.
Trudie focused on Stone and stepped closer, her hands glowing with that soft, calming light.
“Let’s see if I can do something about this curse,” she said softly.
As Trudie’s hands moved through the air, weaving a tapestry of light and shadows, Stone felt the edges of the darkness within him recoil, as if threatened by her magic. Yet, despite her efforts, it clung stubbornly to him, an unyielding shadow that refused to be dispelled.
After a moment, Trudie sighed and dropped her hands.
“I can’t break it. This curse—it’s some next-level stuff. But...” She trailed off, a spark of determination lighting up her eyes. “I might know someone who can help.”