22. Jace

My truck tipped up on two wheels as I jerked the steering wheel to the right and pulled into Crestwood Hospital. The vehicle came down hard on the other two wheels, and the tires squealed as the truck shot forward. I slammed on the brakes mere inches from the front door, and it squealed again as I slammed it into park. With the truck still running, I leapt from the driver seat, leaving the door hanging open as I sprinted into the hospital.

"Kirsten?" I shouted.

My heart thundered in my chest as I scanned the waiting room, looking for Harley or Tank. I could still hear the big man's choked voice on the phone.

"Jace? It's Tank. You gotta get to the hospital."

Stuttering, he told me they were in a car wreck. Kirsten's second in the last week. Before I could think, I was in my truck and speeding to the hospital.

"Kirsten!"

A woman appeared from a back room. I knew her—I knew everyone in my pack—but in the moment, I had no mind to acknowledge her.

"Jace? Hank said you'd be coming," the nurse said. "Follow me."

My hands were shaking as I followed her to the triage area. When she pulled a curtain aside, I nearly fell to my knees in relief. Kirsten was sitting up in the bed, drinking from a plastic cup.

Kirsten put the cup aside when she saw me. "Jace, calm down. I'm all right."

I didn't believe her. I rushed to her side, running my hands up and down her legs and arms, checking for bruises and cuts.

"Where are you hurt?"

"My head," she said.

She pulled her hair back, revealing a rather deep cut just beneath her hairline. The jagged black lines of stitches were almost obscured by her dark hair, but they were still faintly visible. I counted ten of them.

"Holy shit," I muttered, touching the area near the wound as gently as possible.

"It's not that big a deal. Seriously," she said, letting her hair fall back over the injury.

"The hell it's not," I said through gritted teeth. Turning, I bellowed, "Tank, get over here!"

The big man hustled over from a different curtained area. His forearm sported a bandage, but other than that, he looked fine.

"I'm here," he said.

"What the fuck happened here?"

"It was the brakes on my truck, Jace. They went out."

I leaned forward, desperate for information. "What do you mean they ‘went out'?"

Tank flushed and launched into his story. "We came out of the store and got going down Main Street to head back. As we got to the town square, I tried to slow down for the traffic light. The brakes felt spongy as all hell, and we weren't stopping. There were people everywhere. I was gonna crash because I had no brakes." He nodded to Kirsten. "She saved us. Put some kind of force field around me and Harley and then threw a sort of magic wall in front of the truck, saving everybody."

I turned to Kirsten, eyebrow raised. "You put a force field around them, but forgot yourself?" I asked incredulously.

She shrugged helplessly. "It happened really fast. All I could think about was Tank, Harley, and the innocent people. I couldn't let any of them get hurt. I wasn't thinking about myself."

"Obviously," I said, running a hand through my hair. "So, the brakes were fine on the way to the store?"

"Yup," Tank said. "It was only on the way home that they failed." He lowered his voice. "I checked the brake lines while we waited for the ambulance. They'd been tampered with, brake fluid fully drained out. It was sabotage, Jace."

"In the middle of fucking town?" I asked. "It was barely even dark out. Who the fuck has those kinds of balls?"

"No clue," Tank said.

Suddenly, I realized only two of the three passengers were here, and another jolt of fear hit me. I turned back to Kirsten. "Where's Harley? Is she okay?"

"Yeah," Tank said. "She should be back any second. She twisted her ankle in the crash, so Reese wanted to get an X-ray to be sure it wasn't broken."

I sighed in relief and took Kirsten's hand in mine. "You're positive you're okay?"

"I am," she said, squeezing my hand. "I've got a hell of a headache, but I'll be fine. As long as I don't get into any more car wrecks, that is."

"Who do you think did it?" I asked, looking at Tank.

"Gotta be someone from Eren's pack, right?" he asked.

"And they weren't seen?" I said. "People would have recognized someone from Scottsdale skulking around. Or they should have, for fuck's sake."

Tank's jaw worked from side to side. "What if it was one of those lone wolves Eren recruited? No one would recognize them."

I shrugged. "Could be someone in the pack. Somebody who's still upset that my fated mate is a witch."

"You're grasping at straws, Jace," Kirsten said. "No one in your pack would do this. They're all too loyal to you."

It was possible that a stranger had snuck in to do the damage, but with tensions as high as they were, an unfamiliar face should have been cause for alarm. How would they have gotten into the center of town to mess with the truck?

A terrible thought occurred to me, one I couldn't dismiss easily. Stephanie. The idea that she would betray us again after helping rescue those kids made me sick, but who else could have done it? An angry snarl came from my mouth, unbidden, and I turned to Tank.

"Get your ass to the store. Tell Oliver or whoever is in charge today that we need the camera footage for the parking lot. If we're lucky, one of the cameras would have picked up your truck and whoever fucked with it. Go."

Tank nodded and bolted for the door, nearly colliding with Waylan, who came rushing in.

"Harley? Is she all right? I just heard." His face was leeched of all color. I imagined I'd looked much the same when I came in.

"She's fine," Kirsten said. "Just getting X-rayed."

Waylan sagged back against the wall. "Thank God."

Now that I knew Kirsten was all right, my anxiety and terror flowed out of me, and a seething anger I had a hard time controlling took up residence inside me. I stalked back and forth across the floor, clenching and unclenching my fists.

"Bro, you gotta take a breath," Waylan said. "Everyone's fine. You gotta chill."

"I can't," I hissed, leveling him with a glare. "I want blood." The last word came out as a growl.

"Until we know who did it, there's no one to get blood from, Jace," Kirsten said.

I looked at her, and the same fear rose up inside me again. How close had she been to dying tonight? How close? Why hadn't she shielded herself? She'd answered that question, but it wasn't good enough for me. She was too selfless. Usually, that was a noble attribute, but the selfish part of my mind wished she'd be a little more mindful of herself.

A nurse arrived, pushing Harley in a wheelchair. She gave us all a weary smile, looking a little uncomfortable at the sight of Waylan.

"Hey, guys," she said.

Waylan inched closer to her, his pupils dilating at the mere sight of her.

I scrubbed my hand over my face, roughly rubbing at the skin. "I still don't see why you couldn't have put up a spell to protect yourself," I said to Kirsten.

"I already told you, Jace," she said with a hint of frustration. "I didn't have time. I was too busy thinking of—"

"Of everyone else. Yeah, you said." I didn't like the petulance in my voice, but I couldn't hold it back.

Kirsten gave me an icy stare. "Yes, Jace. Everyone else. Would you rather that I didn't protect them? Have someone be killed because the truck couldn't stop?"

"But what about you?" I shouted, my terror and frustration finally boiling over. "Who protects you?"

Kirsten jerked back, and a few nurses glanced in our direction.

"Can you calm the hell down?" Harley asked impatiently.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I need some fresh air."

I stalked to the exit, shifting before my feet had even hit the sidewalk and sprinting into the forest beyond. Simply being in my wolf form helped ease some of my stress. The freedom pushed my human cares away, allowing me to think clearly.

The first clear thought that crept in was that I was handling things terribly. All my life, I'd been able to do whatever needed to be done. I prided myself on being calm and making judicious decisions for my pack. With Kirsten, it was like my entire brain was scrambled. I freaked out easier and had a hard time controlling my emotions. Was this what love was? Just going through life like a maniac, terrified something would happen to the person you cared most for? That, coupled with my feelings of inadequacy, was a recipe for disaster. My brain wasn't working right, but how could I go about fixing it?

I ran for a couple hours, finally returning to the hospital near ten at night, only to find that everyone had been discharged. That made me feel like even more of a asshole. Waylan must have taken Kirsten and Harley home while I was running around in the woods like a dumbass child.

I jumped in my truck—someone had turned off the ignition and closed the door—and went home. Waylan was sitting on the porch, nursing a beer. My skin itched like it wanted to crawl off my body as I stomped up the porch and turned in a circle. A caged animal, unsure what to do with himself, ready to lash out.

"Are you good?" Waylan asked, his voice low and worried.

"I don't…I can't…" I hissed a breath out through my clenched teeth and did the only thing that made sense at the moment. Turning, I slammed my fist into one of the posts of the porch. The wood splintered and dented from the force of my blow. Even my strong shifter bones ached at the impact, and I shook my hand, wincing in pain.

"What the fuck is up with you?" Waylan barked. "You're losing it, bro."

I flopped down on the rocking chair beside him and buried my face in my hands. "I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like everything is out of control, and I can't stop it."

"That's fine," Waylan said, his voice still hard. "But you need to remember that the last time you lost control, Kirsten left you. Remember that?" He punched me in the shoulder. "If you don't get your shit together, that's going to happen again. This isn't the Jace I know. This isn't my best friend. What the hell is up with you?"

I let out a miserable groan and told him how impotent I felt when compared to Kirsten, Flynn, and even Langston. When I was done, he stared at me with what could only be called pity.

"I get that," Waylan said.

"You do?" I asked. "Seriously?"

He nodded and looked out at the night-shrouded yard. "I'm a beta, Jace. If anyone understands feeling less or not as good, it's me. If I allowed those thoughts in, think how I'd feel around you? You're bigger, stronger, faster, more powerful—more everything. I'm not even on Langston's level, and he's a sigma. He's got more stealth, more endurance. Again, more."

"You can't think like that," I said quickly. "You're no less than me or Langston. You have no idea how important you are to the pack."

He gave a rueful chuckle. "And isn't that what you should be telling yourself? You've got no reason to be jealous of Flynn or Langston. You're the alpha of Crestwood. You lead people, and they love you for it. If you're telling me I have no reason to feel inadequate as a beta, then you've got nothing to be whining about." He gave me another hard look. "You're an amazing alpha. I'd follow you to hell and back, and I'm not just saying that because you're the alpha. I'd do that even if you were a beta like me. The whole pack trusts you to lead us and keep us safe. Now, get your head out of your ass and man the fuck up."

His words hit me hard, crushing the self-pity. Waylan was right. There were bigger issues to worry about than my ego. I didn't need to prove myself to anyone but me. I was stupid, and in that stupidity, I'd done my level best to keep pushing Kirsten away.

Before I could thank him for his words, a truck roared up the driveway. I didn't recognize it, but when Tank jumped out, I realized he must have borrowed a vehicle from someone since his was totaled.

"There you are," Tank huffed, walking toward us with a laptop under his arm. "You could have let me know you'd come home. Been running all over town looking for your ass."

"Did you get the security footage?" I asked.

"Sure did. Oliver's a great guy, but he's not real tech-savvy. Took him a bit to figure out how to pull it up, but I've got it. You're not gonna believe it, though."

He opened the laptop and balanced it on the porch rail. My stomach clenched in worry as Tank pulled up a window. A black-and-white clip showed Tank's truck and a few scattered vehicles sitting in the parking lot. A few seconds into the video, a blur of motion caught my eye.

"There!" Waylan said, pointing at the screen.

A small form emerged from the woods beside the parking lot. A wolf, young. It sniffed, moving from car to car, until it came to Tank's. It spent a few moments smelling the passenger door, then shifted to its human form. A small child, no older than eight or nine from the looks of him, crawled under the truck. After about a minute, he slid back out, shifted, and disappeared into the forest. Less than fifteen seconds later, Tank, Kirsten, and Harley came out of the store.

The first thing I felt was immediate relief that it wasn't Stephanie, followed by guilt that I'd doubted her after everything she'd done to redeem herself.

"Rewind that," I said. "Check if we can get a clear look at his face."

Tank did as I asked, then took a screenshot. The face wasn't terribly clear, but I could make out his features, the shape of the nose and chin. None of us recognized him.

"How did the little fucker get in?" Waylan asked. "We've put teams on all the entrances to town."

"Yeah," I grunted. "So did Eren, and we still got into Scottsdale."

"Fair point," he admitted.

"Tank, go get Stephanie. She was in Scottsdale long enough that she may recognize this kid. We need to figure out what's going on. I thought we got all the kids out."

"You got it," he said, and hurried to his truck.

"Is Kirsten inside?" I asked Waylan as Tank pulled away.

Waylan gave me a pained look. "Nah. Kirsten didn't really want to hang out here. I think she didn't really want to see you."

"Great," I muttered. "Where did she go?"

"I had Kyro and Langston come up. They took her and Harley out to a late dinner. I made sure they knew to make damn sure no one messed with the car this time."

"I suppose that's good," I said. "If they're both well enough to go out."

Waylan nodded. "Yeah. They were banged up, but it wasn't as bad as you feared. You've just gotta figure out how to not be weird when she gets home."

"Easier said than done."

Ten minutes later, Tank returned with Stephanie. She was worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she walked up the steps.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I'm hoping you can help us out," I said, and told her what happened.

She slapped her hand to her mouth and studied the screen as I played the video.

"Do you know who that kid is?" I asked when Tank pulled up the screenshot.

"I do," she said. "He's the son of one of Eren's betas. The poor kid's only seven years old. He shouldn't even be able to shift yet, much less know how to mess with a car's brake lines." She shook her head in disgust. "I didn't try to get him out because I thought he'd be safe for another year or two."

"So this beta allowed Eren to use his son?" I asked, feeling that old anger swell again. God, Eren was an evil bastard.

"He must have," she said. "Nothing else makes any sense."

"This asshole offered up his own child?" I gritted my teeth. "Maybe he was captured or hurt. They don't give a shit about any of their members, do they?"

"Eren has everyone cowed," Stephanie said. "Though, not everyone obeys because they're scared. But there is a core group who are fanatics and would do anything he said. It's pretty disgusting."

Waylan cursed under his breath. "Just when you think this shit can't get any worse."

"So, uh, is Kirsten around?" Stephanie asked.

"No," I said. "They went out." My words were clipped.

She held her hands up in surrender. "Sorry. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. I am still a doctor, you know. I thought I could check on her."

"Sorry," I said. "It's been a rough night. I shouldn't take my anger out on you."

"It's fine. Do you need anything more from me?"

I shook my head. "No, you're good to head home. Thank you for the help."

She stepped off the porch and joined Tank at the truck. Before she got in, she glanced back at me. "You're doing the best you can, Jace. No one else could have handled this the way you are. I'm sure it's tough, but I know we'll come out on top."

Clearing my throat, I said, "I need to rest."

I didn't wait for Waylan to say anything. Instead, I hurried inside up to my room. I flopped onto my bed, sinking into the mattress. Before I lost my nerve, I pulled my phone out and sent Kirsten a text.

Hey. I hope you're feeling okay. I'm sorry about earlier. We'll talk tomorrow. I love you.

I waited several minutes for a reply. It showed that the message had been opened and read, but she didn't text me back. Knowing Langston was with her helped me stay calm. Nothing would happen with him watching over them.

That meant Kirsten didn't want to respond. That stung worse than I thought it could. I rolled over and drifted off into a fitful sleep, thinking of Kirsten the whole time.