Chapter 3

Breaking Point

Grace's POV

The November wind cut through my thin jacket as I climbed the stone steps to Moonridge High, my backpack weighing heavy on my shoulders. Three weeks had passed since the funeral, and returning to school felt like walking into a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. Every face that looked at me held either pity or indifference, and I preferred the indifference.

I kept my head down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. The cottage had been lonely, but at least there I could grieve in peace. Here, surrounded by the chatter and laughter of my classmates, the silence inside me felt deafening.

"Well, look what crawled out of her hovel," Amber's voice cut through the morning air like a blade.

I stopped halfway up the steps, my hand tightening on the strap of my backpack. She stood at the top of the stairs with her usual group of followers, her blonde hair catching the weak sunlight. Behind her, I could see Jace leaning against the brick wall, watching with those dark eyes that seemed to see right through me.

"I heard you're living in that disgusting cottage now," Amber continued, her voice carrying across the courtyard. "What's next? Are you going to start howling at the moon like a real reject?"

A few students laughed, but most just watched with uncomfortable expressions. Even they knew this was wrong, but none of them would intervene. They never did.

"Please," I whispered, taking another step up. "I just want to go to class."

"Please," Amber mocked, her voice high and whiny. "That's all you ever say, isn't it? Please, please, please. No wonder your parents—"

"Don't." The word came out stronger than I intended, surprising us both. "Don't talk about them."

Amber's eyes glittered with malicious delight. "Oh, did I hit a nerve? Poor little orphan Grace. Tell me, do you miss mommy and daddy? Do you cry yourself to sleep in that pathetic little shack?"

Something inside me cracked. All the grief, all the pain, all the loneliness I'd been carrying crashed over me like a wave. "Stop," I said, my voice breaking. "Please, just stop."

"Make me," Amber sneered, taking a step toward the edge of the stairs.

I tried to back away, but my foot slipped on the stone step. For a moment, I teetered on the edge, my arms windmilling as I fought for balance. That's when Amber's hand shot out—not to help, but to push.

The world tilted sickeningly. I felt myself falling backward, the stone steps rushing up to meet me. My head struck the corner of a step with a sickening crack, and then I was tumbling, my body bouncing off the unforgiving stone until I finally came to rest at the bottom in a crumpled heap.

Pain exploded through my skull, and I could feel something warm trickling down the side of my face. My vision blurred, and for a moment, I couldn't remember where I was or what had happened. The taste of copper filled my mouth.

*I need to call Dad,* was my first coherent thought. *He'll come get me. He'll make it better.*

I fumbled for my phone with shaking hands, my fingers slipping on the screen as I tried to dial his number. But then reality crashed back over me like ice water.

Dad was dead. Elena was dead. There was no one to call.

A sob escaped my throat, part pain and part devastating realization. I was completely, utterly alone.

Jace's POV

I watched Grace fall down the stairs as if in slow motion, each impact of her body against the stone sending shockwaves through the mate bond. My wolf roared in anguish, clawing at my chest as our mate's blood began to pool beneath her head.

*HELP HER!* he demanded. *OUR MATE IS HURT!*

But I stood frozen, watching as Grace reached for her phone with trembling hands. I could see the confusion in her eyes, the way she kept trying to dial a number before stopping, her face crumpling as she remembered.

She had no one to call. No one who would come for her.

"Holy shit," Marcus breathed beside me. "Amber really did it this time."

A crowd was gathering around Grace's still form, but no one moved to help her. They just stood there gawking like she was some kind of spectacle. The sight of my mate—bleeding and broken at the bottom of the stairs—should have sent me into a protective rage.

Instead, I laughed.

The sound came out harsh and cold, cutting through the shocked silence like a knife. Several people turned to stare at me in disbelief, but I couldn't stop. It was either laugh or completely lose control, and I couldn't afford to lose control.

"Serves her right," I heard myself say, the words like poison on my tongue. "Maybe now she'll learn to watch where she's going."

*MONSTER!* my wolf snarled. *What kind of mate are you? She's bleeding! She could be dying!*

But I pushed him down, buried him so deep that his howls became distant echoes. Because if I acknowledged what Grace meant to me—if I showed even a moment of concern—everyone would know. And I couldn't let that happen.

"You're sick," someone said behind me, and I turned to see my sister Mia standing there, her face white with fury. "That girl is hurt, possibly seriously, and you're laughing?"

"Mind your own business, Mia," I said, but there was something in her eyes that made me take a step back.

"Grace could have a concussion. She could have internal bleeding. And you're standing there laughing like it's the funniest thing you've ever seen." Mia's voice was deadly quiet. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Before I could respond, her fist connected with my jaw in a punch that would have dropped a normal human. The crack echoed across the courtyard, and I tasted blood as I staggered backward.

"Connor!" Mia shouted to one of the pack warriors who'd been watching the commotion. "Get Grace to the pack hospital. Now!"

Connor, a massive man with kind eyes, immediately moved toward Grace's crumpled form. He knelt beside her, carefully checking for spinal injuries before gently lifting her into his arms. Grace's head lolled against his shoulder, and I could see the blood matting her dark hair.

"It's okay, little one," Connor murmured as he carried her toward his truck. "We're going to take care of you."

The words hit me like another punch. *We're going to take care of you.* But where was I? Where was her mate when she needed protection?

"I can't believe you're my brother," Mia said, her voice thick with disgust. "That girl has been through enough, and you... you're supposed to be the future Alpha. You're supposed to protect the members of this pack, not stand by and laugh while they bleed."

She turned and followed Connor, leaving me standing there with the taste of blood in my mouth and my wolf's anguished howls finally breaking through my defenses.

*You failed her,* he whispered. *Our mate was hurt, and you failed her.*

Mia's POV

I rode in the passenger seat of Connor's truck, watching Grace's pale face as Connor drove toward the pack hospital. Her breathing was shallow, and the cut on her head was still bleeding despite the towel I'd pressed against it.

"Is she going to be okay?" I asked Connor quietly.

"Head injuries are tricky," he replied, his weathered face grim. "But she's strong. She'll pull through."

I hoped he was right. Grace had always been fragile—not physically, but emotionally. After losing her parents, she'd become even more withdrawn, like a ghost haunting the edges of our pack. And my brother... God, what was wrong with him?

I'd noticed the change in Jace over the past few months. He'd always been arrogant, always been a player, but the cruelty toward Grace had escalated to something almost pathological. It was like he went out of his way to make her life miserable.

"Why does he hate her so much?" I murmured, not realizing I'd spoken aloud until Connor glanced at me.

"Sometimes the people we're meant to care about scare us the most," he said cryptically. "Makes us do stupid things."

I frowned at his words, but before I could ask what he meant, we were pulling up to the pack hospital. Dr. Martinez was already waiting with a gurney, having been alerted by Connor's radio call.

As they wheeled Grace away, I caught sight of her phone, which had fallen from her hand. The screen was cracked, but I could still see the contact she'd been trying to call: "Dad ❤️"

My heart broke a little more. Even injured and disoriented, she'd instinctively reached for the one person who'd always protected her, forgetting for a moment that he was gone.

Someone should have been there for her. Someone should have cared enough to catch her when she fell.

But the one person who should have cared most had stood there and laughed while she bled.

Whatever was wrong with my brother, I was going to find out. And I was going to fix it, before his cruelty destroyed the one person who might actually be able to save him from himself.