Deborah's POV
Matthew and I locked eyes.
First, he was surprised, then delighted, and finally, worry settled into his expression.
I could clearly sense his thoughts through Telepathy:
[It's too dangerous here. Why did you come?]
What surprised me even more was that Mark greeted Matthew as if they knew each other well.
They exchanged pleasantries, comfortable in each other's company.
After their brief conversation, Matthew turned to me, smiling.
I felt a bit awkward; he looked so much like Chad. Every time I interacted with him, it felt like I was betraying my family.
Even though Telepathy assured me that his heart was pure—full of warmth and an innocent, unguarded energy—that face still unnerved me.
But Matthew and Chad were entirely different. Matthew was kind and open, full of life and youth.
His gaze held no shadows—just a bright future stretching out before him.
Chad, on the other hand, had been far more mature, calculating, and thoughtful—always carrying plans within plans.
And beyond their appearance, the two couldn't have been more distinct.
Matthew seemed at least a decade younger.
Mark looked puzzled, clearly surprised that Matthew and I knew each other.
I quickly said,"It's just a coincidence."
Mark smiled and introduced Matthew properly, telling me how he worked in the Quarry, yet maintained such great energy.
He was passionate about his work and about Falshi.
In fact, many of Mark's findings were the result of Matthew's field observations.
Matthew laughed,"Well, I am the field inspector, after all."
Before I could respond, the ground shook violently beneath us, the whole quarry seemed to tear apart with the force of the tremor.
Matthew reacted instantly, pulling me into his arms and shielding me from the falling debris.
He moved quickly, guiding us to a narrow corner of the quarry where we were somewhat safe. Though cramped, the space protected us from the larger rocks crashing down from above.
The Falshi stones fell in glittering cascades—their emerald glow interrupted only by the sharp cracks as they hit the ground.
The sound of screams filled the air—chaotic, desperate.
Some workers were crushed beneath the stones, others fleeing for their lives.
I huddled close to Matthew, peering through the small gap between his arms.
I could see the terrifying scene unfold—people falling, blood spreading across the ground, their cries mixing with the noise of collapsing rock.
I shouted for Mark, but there was no response.
My voice was lost in the chaos.
The quarry had turned into a nightmare.
Workers were either running or lying lifeless on the ground.
Panic hung heavy in the air, as real and thick as the dust from the crumbling rocks.
We were in the safest spot possible, but Matthew's back was exposed.
I could feel each impact reverberating through him as stones pounded against his body.
His face was contorted in pain, his lips pressed tightly together, his forehead beaded with sweat.
I could see him trying to suppress the agony, but the tension in his features betrayed him—his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, and his lips quivered as he fought to endure it.
"Are you okay?" I asked softly.
He forced a smile and replied,"Of course."
But I could hear the strain in his voice, the way he was biting back the pain.
"Don't worry. I'm fine," he insisted, his voice steady, though I caught the barely contained groan beneath it.
After what felt like an eternity, the tremors finally subsided.
The quarry fell silent except for the groans of the injured and the eerie quiet that followed such destruction.
Bloodied bodies littered the ground, and it reminded me all too clearly of the last time I'd seen so much death—when Chad led the massacre of my family.
I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over me.
Matthew struggled to stand, his body clearly straining under the pain, but his concern was all for me.
He scanned me quickly to ensure I was unharmed.
I was lucky—untouched by the chaos, while his eyes reflected a mix of worry and relief.
He was genuinely glad I was safe.
I could feel it through Telepathy. His gaze held nothing but tenderness and peace.
And in his mind, I saw the undeniable certainty—he was already falling for me, believing it was fate, that I was meant for him.
But then his strength gave out, and he dropped to one knee.
It wasn't out of submission or affection—it was sheer exhaustion from the injuries he'd sustained.
I knelt beside him, my heart sinking when I saw the state of his back.
His shirt was torn to shreds, and Falshi stones were embedded in his flesh, the skin raw and bleeding heavily.
I knew that as a sealed werewolf, he didn't have the ability to heal quickly, and that made me worry even more.
"It's nothing," Matthew reassured me, smiling despite the pain. His voice was light, as if his injuries were barely an inconvenience.
"A few days of rest, and I'll be good as new. I always heal faster than most." He tried to make it sound like no big deal, as if it was all just a minor setback.
Hunched over slightly, he put a protective arm around me, leading me towards the quarry exit, his steps uneven, his body clearly aching.
Despite his own injuries, he still watched out for me, afraid there might be aftershocks.
"You need to go to the hospital." I told him.
He shook his head, giving me that same warm smile."The resources should go to those who really need them. I'll be fine. This isn't the first time this has happened."
But I couldn't stop looking at his wounds: the torn flesh, the jagged rocks still lodged in his skin.
I sighed softly, my heart tightening with concern."I'll come with you, I mean your flat," I said, my voice softer than I intended."I can help you clean up the wounds."