Shattered Mate

Chapter 3

Jace pov

I made it exactly three steps away from the supply closet before the sound hit me—a soft, broken sob that seemed to pierce straight through my chest and lodge itself in my heart like a silver bullet.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my hand frozen on the diner's back door handle. Behind me, Marcus and the others were already heading toward their cars, laughing about something Tyler had said. They couldn't hear what I was hearing. Their wolves weren't clawing at their consciousness, weren't howling in distress at the sound of our mate's tears.

*Mate.*

The word that I had been trying to ignore for months now crashed through my mental barriers like a freight train. Grace Evans was my mate—had been since the moment she'd transferred to my school and her scent had hit me like a physical blow. But acknowledging that truth meant accepting something that went against everything I had been taught about what an Alpha should want.

Another sob echoed through the thin door, and Storm, my wolf, finally snapped.

*You f*****g i***t,* Storm's voice roared through my mind, dripping with disgust and rage. *Look what you've done to her. Look what you've done to our mate.*

closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the cool metal of the door. "She's not—"

*Don't you dare finish that sentence,* Storm interrupted, his presence pressing forward with enough force to make my temples throb. *You know exactly what she is. You've known since the day she walked into our territory. And instead of protecting her, instead of cherishing her, you've spent months destroying her piece by piece.*

"She's weak," I said aloud, though my voice lacked conviction. "She's not Alpha material. She's nothing like what I need—"

*She's OURS!* Storm's howl was so loud in my mind that I actually staggered backward. *She's our mate, our other half, the one person in this entire world who was made specifically for us. And you've treated her like garbage because you're too much of a coward to accept that fate doesn't care about your precious image.*

Grace's crying had quieted to soft hiccups now, but each sound still felt like claws raking down my spine. I could picture her in there, curled up on the floor among the cleaning supplies, probably trying to muffle her sobs with her hands the way she always did when she thought no one was watching.

But i was always watching. Even when I pretended not to care, even when I was actively tormenting her, part of me was constantly aware of Grace Evans. Where she was, who she was with, whether she was safe. It was maddening, this pull toward someone so fundamentally wrong for my future.

*Wrong?* Storm's voice was quieter now, but no less angry. *She's brilliant—top of her class despite everything you've put her through. She's kind, even to those who don't deserve it. She's brave enough to keep going every day even when you make her life hell. And she's beautiful in a way that makes every other female in this pack look like plastic copies.*

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration building in my chest. "None of that matters. Look at her—she can barely stand up for herself. She cries at the first sign of conflict. She's everything an Alpha's mate shouldn't be."

*She cries because you hurt her, you absolute moron.* Storm's presence was like acid in my veins now. *She doesn't fight back because she's seventeen years old, orphaned, and completely dependent on our pack for survival. She knows that challenging you means losing everything. That's not weakness—that's intelligence.*

The truth of Storm's words hit me like a physical blow. I had been telling myself for months that Grace's submission to my bullying proved she was weak, but deep down I knew better. I had seen the fire in her eyes when she thought no one was looking. I had watched her at school, quietly helping younger students with their homework, standing up to human bullies who picked on the pack kids. She wasn't a coward—she was trapped.

And I was the one who'd built her cage.

*She turns eighteen in two months,* Storm continued relentlessly. *Two months, and then she'll be able to sense the mate bond fully. She'll know what you are to her—and what you've done to her. Do you really think she'll want anything to do with us after that? Do you think any amount of groveling will make up for the months of torment you've put her through?*

Another soft sob filtered through the door, and I felt something crack inside my chest. I had been so focused on fighting against the mate bond, so determined to prove that I was in control of my own destiny, that I had never stopped to consider what would happen when Grace finally understood the connection between us.

She would hate me. Completely, utterly, and justifiably hate me.

The thought made my wolf howl with anguish, and for the first time in months, I found myself in complete agreement with Storm. What had I done? What had I become?

*A monster,* Storm answered my unspoken question. *You've become exactly the kind of Alpha our father always warned us not to be. The kind who rules through fear instead of respect, who hurts those weaker than himself because he can.*

I thought about my father, Alpha Marcus Storms, who had built our pack through strength and honor. Who had taught me that true leadership meant protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. Who would be ashamed beyond words if he knew how me son had been treating my future mate.

*Go to her,* Storm urged, his voice softer now but no less insistent. *Unlock that door and apologize. Try to begin making this right.*

"It's too late," I whispered, but even as I said it, I was reaching for the door handle. "She'll never forgive me."

*Maybe not,* Storm agreed. *But you have to try. Because the alternative is losing her forever, and I promise you—we won't survive that.*

My hand trembled as I touched the lock. Behind the door, Grace had gone quiet, but I could still sense her there, small and broken and alone. My mate. My responsibility. My greatest failure.

I closed my eyes and tried to find words that could possibly begin to bridge the chasm I had created between us. But what could I say? How could I explain that I had been fighting the mate bond so hard that I had convinced myself cruelty was strength? That I have been so terrified of appearing weak that I had become the very monster I had sworn never to be?

*Start with the truth,* Storm suggested. *Tell her you're sorry. Tell her you know you've been wrong. And then spend the rest of your life proving it.*

I took a shaky breath and slowly turned the lock. The click seemed to echo in the silence like a gunshot. Then, very carefully, I opened the door.

Grace was exactly where I had pictured her—curled up in the corner between two mop buckets, her arms wrapped around her knees, her face hidden in her hair. She looked so small, so fragile, that for a moment I couldn't breathe.

"Grace?" My voice came out rougher than I had intended.

She looked up, and the sight of her tear-stained face nearly brought me to my knees. Her green eyes were wide with confusion and wariness, like a wounded animal that expected another blow.

And for the first time in my life, I had absolutely no idea what to say.