Page 91 of Burned in Stone
“I would call them anything but OK.” Bones’s voice carries that flatness that means he’s done things he won’t talk about later. “We’re loading up now. Be there within the hour.”
“Copy that.” Hawk ends the call and looks at Stone, still braced against the table like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “They’re on their way.”
Mercy moves to Stone, hand gentle on his back. “She’s OK. Bones has her.”
Stone nods, but he can’t speak. Can’t do anything but breathe.
“How the fuck did Bones find her so fast?” Duck asks what we’re all thinking.
“Trackers?” Tank suggests.
I catch the look Duck gives Hawk, and something unspoken passes between them. Before I can figure out what, Stone straightens, composing himself.
“Everyone stays put until they get here,” Stone orders, voice rough but steady. “I want full lockdown. Nobody in or out.”
“On it,” Hawk says, moving toward the door to coordinate with the prospects.
I look at Mercy, see my own confusion reflected in her eyes. How the hell did Bones know where to find her when even Stone couldn’t track her phone?
But underneath the confusion is bone-deep gratitude. Emma is safe. Bones found her. The worst didn’t happen.
This time.
I pull Mercy closer, needing to feel her against me. The house hunting feels like it happened days ago instead of hours. The future we were planning—paint colors, dog breeds, mortgage rates—suddenly feels more precious. More fragile.
This is what I’m fighting for. Not just my own happiness anymore. Not just surviving until tomorrow.
I’m fighting for all of us. For every person here who chose family over blood, who showed up when it mattered, who proved that broken doesn’t mean worthless.
Gabriel’s locked up. Summit’s scrambling. Emma’s safe.
And I’m standing here with the woman I love, planning a future I never thought I’d live to see.
Yeah, I’m fucking happy. And yeah, I’m terrified of losing it.
But mostly? I’m grateful. Grateful I survived long enough to find this. To find her.
Because the alternative—letting fear win, keeping yourself safe but alone—that’s not survival.
That’s just another kind of death.
And I’m done dying.
EPILOGUE 2 - MERCY
Shouting from the gate announces Steel, Bones and Emma’s return.
Stone hits the door first, faster than I’ve ever seen. The rest of us pour out behind him—a tidal wave of leather and relief and barely controlled panic.
Steel’s already parked, Bones and Emma behind him. Before Bones fully stops, Emma’s off the back. She rips the helmet off.
She’s tiny—five-three in sneakers—with Stone’s dark hair in a messy bun, eyes that look like they’ve seen shit. Jeans filthy and torn at the knee, a scrape on her cheek, but she’s whole. She’s here.
Stone reaches her in three strides, pulls her into his chest so hard the air whooshes out. His shoulders shake. I look away. Seeing Stone break is too much.
“I’m OK, Dad,” Emma says, voice muffled against his cut. “I’m OK.”
“You better be.” His voice cracks. “You better be.”
