Page 12 of Nick (The Moonstone Pack #4)

THE SUN STREAMED THROUGH the window of the Moonstone shifters’ motel room, casting stark lines of light and shadow across the carpet.

“Then Martin ran,” Nick said, finishing his part of the story for the Moonstone shifters.

“Nick and I shifted, but we didn’t go with the pack. We went back to my trailer,” Sarah added.

“What happened to Martin?” Ryker asked, his expression serious.

“Did any of you go?” Bronx asked, glancing around at the Sunburst Pack members.

“We did,” Malcolm began, his voice a low growl. His eyes seemed to darken with the memory as he spoke. “When we all found Martin, it was…it was a massacre.”

Nick remained silent, his muscular frame taut, his gaze fixed on Malcolm. Sarah could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Gregory and Percy pinned him down,” Malcolm continued. The brutality of the act made Sarah swallow convulsively as she envisioned the scene: the terrified struggle, the claws, the teeth…

“Like prey,” Anders said, his voice laced with disgust. “He didn’t stand a chance.”

Conall’s face was ashen, the freckles scattered across his nose standing out starkly. “It’s one thing to talk about pack law, but this…” His words trailed off as if the full reality of what they’d seen refused to be voiced.

Quinton’s jaw muscle ticked rhythmically, his entire body tight with barely contained rage. “We couldn’t stop it.”

“We couldn’t,” Conall reiterated. “We were outnumbered.”

Sarah felt the tremor in her hands. She glanced at Nick, searching his features for any sign of understanding, any flicker of forgiveness. Was he remembering his own brush with death?

“Karla,” Larissa said, her tone tinged with revulsion, “she was the one to make the first move against Martin.”

The image flashed before Sarah’s eyes: Karla, with her calculated cruelty, bearing down on Martin, her claws extended in a vicious arc aimed to maim. The thought sent a shiver skittering across Sarah’s skin, the imagined sound of tearing flesh all too real in her mind.

“Her claws raked across his chest,” Larissa continued. “It was deliberate, precise. As much a message as an attack. She wanted us to know that defiance would be met with pain.”

A murmur of disgust rippled through the room.

The echo of it curled in Sarah’s stomach.

The entire episode was a stark reminder of the primal violence that lay just beneath the surface, a beast they all struggled to cage within themselves.

She could almost taste the collective dread, their shared disgust and horror.

Anders shifted beside her, his hands clenching into fists as if ready to fight off the memory itself. “Vincent wasn’t content to let Karla’s warning stand,” he said, grim. “He needed to prove his dominance.”

Sarah’s gaze flicked to Anders, seeing the strain in his expression. “With Martin already subdued, Vincent…he went for the kill. His teeth tore through him.”

She could almost hear the horrific rending sound, imagining the blood that must have spilled hot and scarlet onto the ground. A visceral image formed in her mind of Vincent’s face, contorted with the ferocity of his assault, his teeth bared and dripping.

“Ripped Martin’s stomach open,” Anders finished, his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying the horror they all felt.

Sarah closed her eyes against the onslaught of images, the raw terror that threatened to overwhelm her. This was the same pack that had once been her sanctuary, the same shifters who were supposed to embody strength and unity.

Are we any better? she wondered.

“And then?” Ryker prompted.

Sarah moved to sit on the edge of her chair, bracing herself for the next wave of gruesome details.

“The rest of the pack… They just descended on him. Like a frenzy.” Conall’s voice was a ragged whisper. His eyes, wide and haunted, flicked over to the others as he spoke. A collective shudder rippled through them.

Sarah could almost hear the snap of bones, the wet tear of flesh in Conall’s words.

“Conall,” Nick’s steady voice broke through the silence, “what were you doing? What were any of you doing while this happened?” His eyes were sharp, searching each face for an answer. There was no accusation in his tone, only the need to understand.

“We hung back,” Quinton said. “Just far enough to seem…out of reach. As if we couldn’t get there in time to join the frenzy.”

She dared a glance at Nick, whose stoic gaze met hers for a fraction of a second before she looked away, haunted by memories that mirrored the violence Quinton described.

She remembered the cold determination in Vincent’s eyes the night he’d seized the pack, the way the ground seemed to open beneath her when he plotted to have Nick killed.

Nick’s eyes held questions that made her insides twist. She could see the turmoil there, the wariness.

The distrust.

The motel room felt suddenly claustrophobic, the walls pressing in with the intensity of their shared history. Sarah swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the coolness provided by the struggling air conditioner.

“Let’s focus on what we do next,” Ryker said.

“What do you suggest?” Sarah asked.

“We reached out to a few nearby allies,” Ryker said. “Bronx and I have meetings scheduled over the next few days. We’re heading over the state line into Texas.”

“You’re leaving?” Nick asked.

“Just for a couple of days,” Bronx said, dropping his hand on the younger shifter’s shoulder.

“Everyone here needs to keep on as you’ve been. You especially, Nick. You and Sarah need to pretend to be deliriously happy now that he’s back.” Ryker raised an eyebrow as he glanced between them. “Think you can do that?”

“In public, at least,” Sarah added, hoping her words would inject a little humor into the situation. But Nick just stared at her.

“There’s an art festival down at the city park tomorrow,” Larissa suggested. “I heard someone say Vincent planned to be there. We should all make an appearance.”

“That’s a good plan,” Ryker said. “Be seen, act normal. Once Bronx and I return, hopefully with allies, we can all figure out how to do what’s necessary to remove Vincent as alpha.”

“Be seen. Act normal.” Sarah murmured the words.

It seemed simple enough.

But she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to manage it.

There was nothing normal about her life right now.

“You probably do need to be seen together more,” Malcolm said, his gaze darting between Sarah and Nick.

“Moving back into the trailer with Sarah would also solidify the story that you’ve reconciled,” Ryker added, staring at Nick as if challenging him to disagree.

Sarah watched Nick closely, saw the slight clench of his jaw, the way his hands fisted at his sides.

He finally nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it. For the pack.” His gaze flickered to Sarah’s for just a fraction of a second before he looked away.

Sarah’s throat tightened, and she fought to keep her face composed. She knew what this cost him—the proximity to her, the constant reminder of betrayal. But beneath the anxiety roiling in her stomach, hope fluttered.

Maybe this forced closeness would mend some of the fractures between them.

“Good,” Ryker said, breaking the momentary lull. “That settles it. We’ll head out tonight and be back as soon as possible.”

The meeting dispersed quickly after that, the rebels slipping out of the room one by one. Sarah lingered, unable to shake the image of Nick’s pained acceptance from her mind. A part of her ached to reach out, but she remained still, her fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt.

As Nick left the room, she followed. “Nick,” she called out softly, but it was enough. He paused midstride, not turning yet.

“Can we talk? Just you and me.”

The seconds stretched between them before he finally nodded, a curt motion.

They moved away from the motel. Sarah felt the grit beneath her sandals, the dry air catching in her throat.

She glanced at Nick, searching for any softening in his profile, anything to hint that the chasm between them was bridgeable.

“Sarah, if this is about going to the art festival—”

“No, it’s not that. I need you to know why I did what I did.”

He stopped then, turning to face her. The intensity in his gaze was a tangible thing and threatened to unravel her. But she held his stare, mustering every ounce of courage she possessed.

“Nick, I—I betrayed you because I had no choice.” Her voice drifted away on the hot breeze. “Vincent… He was going to do something terrible to you. And our child, our baby, needed protection.”

His gaze swept over her face, searching, judging, weighing her every word.

Nick’s expression was unreadable, a mask carved from the very mesas that surrounded them. The revelation seemed to calcify around them, and for a moment, Sarah feared she had shattered whatever tentative peace they might have found.

“I could have protected…” But he didn’t finish.

She reached out, her hand hovering just shy of his arm.

But before Sarah could stitch together the frayed edges of their past with explanations and regrets, Nick shook his head. It was a small gesture, but it landed like a boulder in Sarah’s chest. He turned from her, his tall form casting a long shadow on the cracked pavement as he walked away.

She stood frozen, watching his retreating figure. As he disappeared, a hollow misery settled inside her. She wrapped her arms around herself, seeking comfort where none could be found.

Had she been wrong to try to explain it to him now, after all this time?

Had reaching out to him been a grave mistake—one that might cost her the last shreds of their bond?