Page 23 of Burned in Stone
Since she’s mine, he means. Since if anyone’s going to rip this Band-Aid off, it should be me.
I push off the table and pace a tight circle in the empty chapel. “You think Stone is going to turf her out, once he finds out?”
Bones shrugs, face unreadable. “I guess that depends on what you tell him.”
“You’re saying I need to claim her to protect her.”
“I’m not saying you need to do anything besides think about what you want.” He puts all the print outs back in the folder while he speaks. “But, I am going to give you this.” He pushes it toward me. “And let you decide what to do from here.”
I don’t need to think. I already know what I want.
“We need to tell Stone,” I say, snatching up the folder and curling it in my fist. “Now.”
“OK.” Bones’s brow lifts, but he nods. “He’ll be in his office.”
We find Stone behind his desk, going through what looks like inventory reports. He looks up when we knock.
“Gabriel Rogers is a cop,” I say without preamble. “Mercy’s ex—her husband. He’s transferring to Stoneheart PD on Monday as part of Summit’s new task force.”
Stone’s expression doesn’t change, but his pen stops moving. “Sit.”
We do.
“Talk,” he orders.
I lay it out—everything Bones found, the timeline, the connection to Summit. Stone listens without interrupting, his face getting darker with every detail.
When I finish, he leans back in his chair. “This woman. Mercy. What is she to you?”
“She’s mine,” I say without missing a beat.
His brow shoots up. “You’re young, Cash. Twenty-six is a bit soon to be claiming an old lady. So you sure this isn’t just some tail you’re chasing? I’m not one to keep tabs on your love life. But I don’t recall you ever…dating.” His eyes are hard. “Or am I missing something?”
“She’s not just—” I stop, take a breath. This is the moment. The moment I admit out loud that I need someone. That I’m givingup the solitude that’s kept me safe since Bones pulled me off the streets. Sure, I’ve fucked around—I’m no monk. But I haven’t let my guard down enough to want something beyond the physical.
With Mercy, I do.
“I know I’m young, Stone. But I’ve lived a thousand lives already—most of those lives being the kind no one in their right mind would want. But all that shit I went through, it taught me how to read people. How to know a good thing when I see it. Mercy’s that for me. She’s the first person I’ve ever wanted who looked at me and saw something worth knowing.”
“So she’s it for you?” He raises an eyebrow.
“She is.” I meet his stare head-on. “She’s mine, Stone.” And I’m hers. Even if admitting that means giving her power over me. Power to hurt me. Power I’ve never given anyone since I was a kid who couldn’t protect himself.
“You claiming her?”
The weight of the question settles over the room. Claiming someone in the MC isn’t just saying you’re together. It’s saying you’ll kill for them. Die for them. That their enemies are your enemies, their fights are your fights.
And it means I can’t walk away. And neither can she.
“Yeah,” I say without hesitation. “I’m claiming her.”
Stone studies me for a long moment. “You understand what that means? Her ex is a cop. He’s got backing from Summit. This won’t be some bar fight that ends with bruised knuckles.”
“I know.” Better than he realizes. I’ve fought cops before. Lost every time. But that was when I was small, weak. Now I’m a fuck ton bigger. And I’ve got brothers.
“Do you know? Really?” Stone leans forward. “Because once you claim her in front of the club, there’s no take-backs. She becomes one of us. Protected by all of us. But that also means if shit goes south, we all go down together.”
“She’s worth it.” Worth giving up control. Worth the risk of needing someone. Worth everything.
