Shattered Mate

Chapter 4

Grace pov

I stared at Jace in the doorway, my mind struggling to process his presence. For a moment, I wondered if I was hallucinating—if the stress and humiliation had finally broken something in my brain. Because there was no logical reason for him to come back. He'd gotten what he wanted, hadn't he? He'd reduced me to tears, trapped me like an animal, and proven once again that I was powerless against him.

So why was he standing there looking at me with something that almost resembled... regret?

"What do you want?" I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying. I pressed myself further back into the corner, wishing I could disappear entirely into the wall behind me.

Jace opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. For the first time since I had known him, he seemed at a loss for words. The confident, cruel Alpha-in-training was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he looked almost... uncertain.

"I..." he started, then stopped. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, and I caught a glimpse of something wild in his eyes—something that made my wolf stir uneasily in the back of my mind.

But I didn't want to see whatever this was. I didn't want his pity or his guilt or whatever momentary conscience had brought him back here. i just wanted him gone so I could pull myself together and finish me shift.

"Please just leave me alone," I said, struggling to my feet. My legs were shaky from sitting on the cold floor, and I had to brace myself against the shelving unit to stay upright. "Haven't you done enough for one night?"

Something flickered across Jace's face—pain, maybe, or shame. But I was too exhausted to care. I was tired of being his personal punching bag, tired of jumping at shadows, tired of living in constant fear of the next humiliation.

Most of all, I was tired of being trapped.

"Grace, I—" Jace stepped forward, and I immediately took a step back, my heart rate spiking.

"Don't." The word came out sharper than I had intended, but I didn't care anymore. "Just... don't. Whatever this is, whatever you're trying to do, I can't handle it right now."

I needed to get out of this closet, away from his overwhelming presence and the strange way my wolf was reacting to his nearness. There was something wrong with the way he smelled tonight—still pine and leather, but underneath it was something else, something that made my skin feel too tight and my pulse race for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.

I pushed past him, careful not to make physical contact, and stumbled out into the back area of the diner. Mrs. Henderson was waiting by the kitchen door, her weathered face creased with concern.

"Honey, are you alright? That boy said you needed a minute, but when I heard the lock click..." She trailed off, her eyes moving between my tear-stained face and Jace, who had followed me out of the closet.

"I'm fine," I lied, grabbing my purse from the employee locker. "Actually, I'm not feeling well. Would it be okay if I left early tonight?"

Mrs. Henderson's maternal instincts were clearly screaming danger, but she nodded slowly. "Of course, dear. Do you need me to call someone to pick you up? I don't like the idea of you walking home alone when you're upset."

"I'll be fine," I insisted, though the thought of the long walk back to my apartment in the dark made my stomach clench. I couldn't afford a car, and the pack didn't exactly provide taxi service for charity cases.

"I can drive you," Jace said quietly from behind me.

Both me and Mrs. Henderson turned to stare at him. My first instinct was to refuse—the last thing I wanted was to be trapped in a car with him. But as I looked at his face, I saw something there that gave me pause. He looked... genuine. And despite everything he'd put me through, my wolf was practically purring at the offer of protection.

"No thank you," I said firmly, ignoring the way my wolf whined in protest. "I prefer to walk."

Mrs. Henderson frowned. "Grace, honey, it's nearly ten o'clock and it's supposed to storm tonight. At least let your... cousin... drive you home safely."

I winced at the lie Jace had told earlier. If only Mrs. Henderson knew that Jace was the last person who would keep me safe.

"Really, I'm fine—" I started, but a rumble of thunder from outside cut me off. Through the diner's windows, I could see dark clouds gathering, and the first fat raindrops were already spattering against the glass.

"Grace." Jace's voice was softer than she'd ever heard it. "Please. Let me drive you home."

I looked at him—really looked at him—and for a moment, the mask of cruel indifference slipped completely. What I saw underneath made my breath catch. There was pain in his eyes, and something that looked almost like desperation.

But I had learned not to trust moments of apparent vulnerability from Jace Storms. Every time I had thought I glimpsed something human in him, he'd proven me wrong in the most brutal way possible.

"Fine," I said finally, more because I didn't want Mrs. Henderson to worry than because she trusted Jace. "But I want to go straight home. No detours, no 'conversations.'"

Jace nodded quickly. "Of course. Just... home."

As we walked out to his car—a sleek black BMW that probably cost more than I would make in five years—I found myself thinking about my escape plan. In six weeks, I would turn eighteen. In six weeks, I would legally be an adult and could leave this pack without permission

I had been planning it for months, ever since I had found my mother's old address book in the few belongings that had been salvaged from our house. My grandfather—my mother's father—lived in Colorado, leading a small pack in the mountains. I had never met him; there had been some kind of falling out between him and my mother years before I was born. But blood was blood, and surely he wouldn't turn away his only grandchild.

It had to be better than staying here. Because staying here meant facing the Rank Games.

I shuddered as I slid into the passenger seat of Jace's car. Every werewolf had to participate in the Rank Games within six months of our eighteenth birthday. It was a pack tradition—a series of challenges designed to determine each wolf's place in the hierarchy. Combat, strategy, leadership, endurance. All the things I was terrible at.

I knew I would fail spectacularly. And failure in the Rank Games meant being relegated to the bottom of the pack structure permanently—an omega with no rights, no voice, no hope of ever improving my position. I would spend the rest of my life as exactly what Jace already saw me as: a burden, a charity case, something to be tolerated at best.

Unless I left first.

"Your grandfather," I whispered to myself as Jace started the engine, the words too quiet for him to hear over the rumble of thunder outside.

Colorado was far from here. Far from Jace, far from the memories of my parents' death, far from the constant reminder of how powerless I was. My grandfather might not even remember my mother, might slam the door in my face. But it was still better than staying here and facing inevitable humiliation in the Rank Games.

I just had to survive six more weeks.

As we drove through the storm-dark streets, I pressed my forehead against the cool window and began counting down the days until my freedom.