All Chapters of Shattered Mate Bond: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Watching Her Rise Jace's POV I couldn't look away. Every rational part of my brain screamed at me to focus on my own upcoming matches, to stop torturing myself with what I'd lost, but it was impossible. Grace commanded the ring like she'd been born for it, and with each victory, something inside my chest twisted tighter. Her second match had been against a warrior from Blackstone pack—a massive Beta who outweighed her by at least fifty pounds. I'd watched her study him during his previous fights, cataloging his movements with the clinical precision of a strategist. When they faced off, she didn't try to match his strength. Instead, she danced around him like smoke, striking pressure points and joint locks until he collapsed from accumulated damage without her landing a single brutal blow. "Surgical," Dad murmured beside me, his voice filled with something that sounded dangerously close to admiration. "She's dismantling trained warriors like they're children." The third matc

The Audacity Grace's POV I made it exactly three steps inside the reception hall before my carefully constructed composure began to crack. My hands were shaking—barely visible tremors that would be imperceptible to anyone who wasn't looking closely, but tremors nonetheless. Three years of training, three years of building myself into something unbreakable, and five minutes with Jace Storm had rattled me more than facing down Thomas Chen in the ring. *The nerve of him.* I found a quiet corner near the far wall, positioning myself where I could observe the room while keeping my back protected. Old habits from the early days of my training, when Grandfather had drilled situational awareness into me until it became second nature. Right now, I needed every advantage I could get to maintain the facade of unshakeable confidence. *"What if I said I was wrong? What if I admitted that you're everything I never had the wisdom to see?"* His words echoed in my mind like a poison, seep

Unexpected Mercy Grace's POV The news reached me at dawn, carried by one of Grandfather's border scouts who'd intercepted Storm pack communications during the night. Alpha Storm had been gravely injured in a coordinated rogue attack. Three pack warriors were dead. Jace Storm was reportedly "not handling the situation well." I stood in Grandfather's study, staring at the written report while my coffee grew cold in my hands. The clinical language couldn't hide the severity of what had happened—spinal injuries, massive blood loss, possible paralysis. The kind of wounds that could end an Alpha's reign permanently. "The attack was professional," Grandfather said from behind his desk, his weathered face grim. "Military precision, silver weapons, coordinated assault. Someone wanted Storm pack's leadership eliminated." I nodded absently, still processing the implications. Alpha Storm had always been fair to me, even when his son hadn't. He'd been the one to place me under pack prot

Hidden Wounds Grace's POV The first hint that something was wrong came when Jace shifted in his sleep for the third time in ten minutes. Each movement was followed by a soft, unconscious sound of pain that made my wolf pace restlessly in my chest. I'd been watching him for the past hour as dawn light gradually filled the hospital room, noting the way his breathing had become increasingly shallow and labored. At first, I'd attributed it to nightmares—the kind of trauma-induced sleep disturbances I knew all too well from my own dark nights. But as I studied his restless form more carefully, I noticed something that made my blood run cold. There was a dark stain spreading across the back of his torn shirt, fresh blood seeping through the fabric in a pattern that suggested an ongoing wound rather than residual bleeding from treated injuries. "Jace," I called softly, not wanting to startle him awake but needing to assess the situation. When he didn't respond, I moved closer to t

Electric Touch Jace's POV The pain of the silver claw being extracted felt like Dr. Martinez was carving out pieces of my soul with a rusty knife. Every twist of the embedded metal sent fire racing through my nervous system, and I had to bite down on a leather strap to keep from screaming and alerting the entire hospital to what was happening. But none of that mattered the moment Grace's fingers intertwined with mine. The instant our skin made contact, electricity shot up my arm like lightning finding ground. Not the mystical mate bond—that had been severed three years ago, the connection brutally cut by my own words of rejection. This was something else, something purely physical that made my nerve endings sing with recognition. My wolf, weakened by days of silver poisoning, suddenly lifted his head with interest. *Touch,* he whispered in my mind. *She's touching us.* I tried to focus on Dr. Martinez's careful work, on the necessity of staying still while he extracted th