Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Grace's POV

The funeral pyre crackled against the grey October sky, sending sparks dancing into the wind like fallen stars. I stood at the edge of the gathered pack, watching the flames consume the only family I had left. My father's body lay beside my stepmother Elena's, both wrapped in the traditional white burial shrouds of our kind.

I should have been crying. Everyone expected me to cry. But there were no tears left—I'd cried them all three days ago when Alpha Storm had knocked on our door with that terrible look on his face.

*Rogue attack on the eastern border. Your father died protecting the pack. Elena died trying to protect him.*

The words had shattered something inside me, something that might never heal. Dad had been everything to me after Mom died when I was seven. And Elena, who'd married him five years ago, had tried so hard to be a mother to the awkward, broken girl I'd become. Now they were both gone, and I was completely alone.

"Grace." Alpha Storm's deep voice startled me from my thoughts. I looked up to find him standing beside me, his expression grave. Behind him, I caught a glimpse of Jace's dark hair, but I quickly looked away. Even at my parents' funeral, I couldn't bear to meet his eyes.

"The pack house is available to you," Alpha Storm continued. "You're still part of our pack family. We take care of our own."

I nodded mutely, but I knew I couldn't stay there. The pack house held too many memories—Dad teaching me to fight in the training room, Elena braiding my hair in the kitchen, the three of us watching movies in the common area. Besides, I'd seen the looks from the other pack members. Pity mixed with relief that it wasn't their family. I couldn't live under that weight.

"Thank you, Alpha," I whispered. "But I... I think I'd like to stay in the cottage. If that's okay."

The cottage was a small, run-down place on the edge of pack territory that had been empty for years. Dad used to take me there sometimes when I was little, before it fell into disrepair. It felt right somehow—isolated, forgotten, just like me.

Alpha Storm's brow furrowed with concern. "Grace, that place hasn't been lived in for years. It's not safe for a young woman alone, especially so close to the border where—"

"Please." The word came out stronger than I intended, surprising us both. "I need... I need to be alone right now."

He studied my face for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Very well. But I want weekly check-ins. And if you need anything—anything at all—you come to me immediately. Understood?"

I nodded again, then turned back to watch the flames consume what was left of my old life. Behind me, I heard the Alpha walk away, but I sensed someone else approaching. The scent hit me first—pine and leather and something dark that made my wolf whimper in confusion.

"Well, well," Jace's voice was low and mocking. "The orphan finally gets what she deserves."

I spun around, shock and pain warring in my chest. "What?"

He stood there in his black funeral suit, hands in his pockets, that cruel smile playing at his lips. But something was different about his eyes—they looked almost... hungry.

"You heard me," he said, stepping closer. "Maybe now you'll finally learn your place. No daddy to protect you anymore. No family to hide behind."

The words hit me like physical blows. "How can you say that? They just died. They died protecting this pack—protecting your family—"

"And now they're dead," he said with brutal simplicity. "Which means you're nothing. Less than nothing. A burden this pack shouldn't have to carry."

I stared at him, unable to process such cruelty. Even for Jace, this was beyond anything he'd done before. "I don't understand why you hate me so much," I whispered.

Something flickered across his face—too fast for me to identify. Then the mask was back, cold and merciless.

"Because you're weak," he said. "Because you don't belong here. Because every time I look at you, I see everything that's wrong with this pack."

I couldn't take anymore. I turned and ran, leaving behind the funeral, the pack, and Jace's words that seemed to burn worse than the funeral pyre.

Jace's POV

I watched Grace flee into the woods, my wolf clawing at my chest in fury. *What the hell is wrong with you?* he snarled. *Our mate just lost her parents and you—*

I cut him off, slamming mental barriers down so hard it made my head throb. But I couldn't block out the image of Grace's face—the way her already pale skin had gone white as bone, the way her hands had trembled when I'd spoken.

*Cruel. You were cruel to our mate when she needed comfort.*

I ignored my wolf and stalked back toward the pack house, but my father's hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"What the hell was that?" Alpha Storm's voice was low and dangerous.

"What was what?" I tried to sound indifferent, but my father's eyes saw too much.

"That girl just lost her parents, and you chose that moment to torment her? Have I raised you to kick someone when they're down?"

"She needed to hear it," I said, the lie tasting bitter. "Someone had to tell her the truth."

"The truth?" My father's grip tightened. "The truth is that David Matthew died protecting this pack. That girl's father was one of our most loyal members, and his daughter deserves our respect and protection."

"She's weak," I insisted, hating how the words sounded even to my own ears. "She'll never be able to defend herself. She's a liability."

My father studied me for a long moment, and I forced myself to meet his gaze. Finally, he shook his head.

"I don't know what's gotten into you lately, son. But Grace Matthew is under this pack's protection, which means she's under my protection. If I hear about you harassing her again..."

He didn't finish the threat, but he didn't need to. I nodded curtly and walked away, my wolf howling in anguish with every step.

The truth was, I couldn't stop myself. Ever since that day in the hallway when I'd first scented her, something had been broken inside me. The mate bond pulled at me constantly, demanding I go to her, comfort her, claim her. But every time I saw her—small and fragile and everything an Alpha's mate shouldn't be—rage filled me instead.

She was supposed to be strong. She was supposed to be someone I could be proud to have by my side. Instead, she was Grace the Mouse, who jumped at shadows and couldn't even defend herself against high school bullies.

*Then make her stronger,* my wolf suggested. *Protect her. Train her. Help her become who she's meant to be.*

But I couldn't. The very thought of treating Grace with kindness, of letting anyone see that she meant something to me, made my skin crawl. I had a reputation to maintain. I was going to be Alpha of this pack, and that meant I needed a Luna who commanded respect, not pity.

Three weeks later, I found myself standing outside the old cottage where Grace had moved. I told myself I was just patrolling, just making sure the border was secure. But my wolf knew better.

The cottage looked even worse than I remembered—paint peeling from the walls, weeds growing wild in what used to be a garden. Through the single lit window, I could see Grace's silhouette moving around the small space. She looked thinner than before, if that was possible.

*She's not eating enough,* my wolf observed with concern. *She's grieving. She needs—*

"She needs to learn to take care of herself," I muttered, but even I didn't believe it anymore.

I turned to leave, but the sound of breaking glass stopped me. Through the window, I saw Grace drop to her knees, gathering pieces of what looked like a broken picture frame. Her shoulders shook, and I realized she was finally crying—the tears that hadn't come at the funeral now falling freely in the privacy of her grief.

Every instinct I had screamed at me to go to her, to hold her, to promise that everything would be okay. Instead, I forced myself to walk away, leaving my mate alone with her pain.

Because admitting that I cared about Grace Matthew would mean admitting that the Moon Goddess had made a mistake. And I couldn't accept that.

Not yet.