.

Chapter 7: Breaking

Raegan's Point of View

I tightened the straps of my burgundy lace bustier that I hadn't worn since the last night I went out in New York City. Then, I shimmied into a pair of black, low-rise jeans. I sat on the edge of my bed and brushed my hair out, watching my long, brown waves curl into beautiful locks just below my breasts.

I walked over to my jewelry stand and picked out some gold earrings and a gold necklace and then I put them on. Next, I dug through my clear makeup bag on my desk and pulled out my mascara, lipstick, gloss and bronzer and applied each one slowly and well-practiced to my face.

I rummaged through the bottom of my closet and found my pair of black, kitten heels and I gently slid them onto my bare feet.

I peered over to the clock in my room. It read a little before 8pm. Cody, Sierra, Gem and I were getting picked up by Liam around 8pm. I was getting picked up last, so I had more time.

We were all sneaking out to Port Angeles, except Gem because she said that her mom didn't care what she did, so she had said she'd tell her the truth about what we'd be doing tonight. The fact that an adult would know where we'd be tonight made me a bit nervous but I had to trust Gem.

My grandma fell asleep at seven o'clock, like she does every night, so I could've just planned to sneak out but instead, I told her during our dinner that I would be sleeping over at Sierra's house tonight. I'm still technically lying; sneaking out to Port Angeles, but in case I got caught not in my bed, I'd rather have a story.

I grabbed my purse and crept downstairs, waiting for Liam's car lights to pull up in front of my house. Suddenly I saw the lights of a car outside, pulling up in front of my house and I crept outside, quietly opening and shutting the door behind me as silently as possible.

I waved at the car. It was a minivan, a beige behemoth riddled with rust spots that bloomed like metallic flowers. No doubt Liam's mom's van. A shiver ran down my spine despite the lukewarm summer air. This felt wrong, reckless, I didn't even know these friends that well. We'd only just met, hours ago. I opened the back door and slipped inside, the scent of stale french fries and cheap air freshener hitting me full force.

Inside, Gem and Sierra were already sprawled across the back seats, their faces flushed with anticipation. Cody was up front, crammed beside Liam in the shotgun seat.

"Hey Rae," Liam said, turning his head, a wide, slightly manic grin plastered on his face.

"Ready to party?"

He hit the gas, the engine groaning in protest, and we lurched forward. Port Angeles, here we come. A night of drinking and clubbing, fueled by fake IDs and elaborate lies to our grandparents and parents, spun like a dizzying fantasy in my head. We were escaping the watchful eyes of LaPush, if only for a night.

The drive was filled with loud music, nervous laughter, and the intoxicating scent of freedom. When we finally arrived in Port Angeles, Liam parked in the deserted parking lot behind a club called "The Siren's Song." The place throbbed with bass, the sound reverberating through the asphalt and into my very bones.

One by one, we presented our fake IDs at the door, each one a tiny act of rebellion. Inside, the air was thick with smoke and the cloying smell of cheap liquor. The music was deafening, the lights pulsed erratically, and the dance floor was a writhing mass of bodies.

We moved as a unit, navigating the crowded space. Shots flowed freely, fueled by nervous energy and the desire to forget. It felt euphoric, a temporary escape from the life that clung to us back in LaPush.

I momentarily glanced at my figure in a mirror in the club. Sweat dripped down my neck, my breasts glimmered in the light of the club. I had a glass of liquor in my hand as my body danced to the music.

I was drinking too much, I knew, but I couldn't seem to stop. I was trying to drown out the image of Jacob's face, his cold, icy stare that had haunted me since he delivered his ultimatum: no more hanging out with Kim, Paul, Embry, Quil... my new friends. He'd said it was for my own good, but all I felt was a sharp, burning rage and confusion.

The lights flickered, casting long, distorted shadows across the dance floor. I spun around, Gem's infectious laughter echoing in my ear. I threw my head back and closed my eyes, trying to lose myself in the moment. It was working, almost. Almost enough to forget the hollow feeling inside me.

With my eyes closed, I got swallowed by the patrons and ended up pressed against the back wall of the club. I opened my eyes and Liam was in front of me. He gripped my arm.

His grip on my arm was a little too tight, a little too possessive. His face was flushed, his eyes glazed over.

"You're hot," he slurred, his breath a potent mix of cheap vodka and regret.

The compliment, in any other circumstance, might have been flattering. But in this crowded, claustrophobic space, with the relentless rhythm pounding in my ears, it felt suffocating.

I tried to pull away, to laugh it off, but his grip tightened, his hands moving to my shoulders, digging in. Panic simmered beneath my skin.

"Liam, stop," I managed, my voice barely a whisper above the music. He just leaned closer, trying to kiss me, his intentions horrifyingly clear.

His fingers caressed my shoulders, dragging downwards towards my wrists. I tried to pull away but he gripped my wrists, tight. He pressed his drunk, wet lips to my neck where he placed a sloppy kiss on me. My eyes grew wide with terror.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through me. I kicked him in the groin with all my might. He stumbled back, drunk and momentarily taken aback. I seized the opportunity, pushing through the throng of bodies towards the back of the club, towards the sanctuary of the bathroom.

The sterile fluorescent light was a jarring contrast to the pulsating darkness I'd just escaped. I locked myself in a stall, leaning against the cool ceramic of the wall, trying to catch my breath. My hands were shaking. The euphoria had evaporated, leaving behind a bitter taste of fear and vulnerability. My hands trembled as I fished my phone out of my purse. I scrolled through my contacts, my heart pounding in my chest.

There it was. Paul. I'd added his number days ago. He'd given it to me, just in case, he'd said, if I ever needed anything. And right now, I needed him more than I'd ever needed anyone.

I pressed the call button, my breath catching in my throat. The phone rang once, twice, then a gruff voice answered.

"Yeah?"

"Paul?" My voice was barely a whisper.

"Rae? What's wrong?" His tone instantly shifted, the gruffness replaced with a sharp, immediate concern.

"I... I need help." I managed to choke out, the dam finally breaking as tears filled my eyes.

"I'm in Port Angeles. I'm at a club... please, can you come get me?"

"Rae, where are you?"

"In the women's washroom at the club. I was a—attacked so I ran here."

"Stay there. Stay right there. Stay in the washroom. I'm coming. I'm coming to get you." He said the words with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. LaPush was a solid hour from Port Angeles.

An eternity.

"I'm... I'm so drunk, Paul."

"Just wait, Rae. I'm on my way."

The call disconnected. I slumped to the floor, the tiled surface cold against my skin. The washroom stall spun. The club's bass still vibrated through me, a constant reminder of Liam's hands, his words. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on Paul's voice, his promise. Waiting became an agonizing ordeal.

Eventually, the world tilted. My head throbbed and my limbs grew heavy. My body betrayed me and I slipped and fell onto the bathroom floor, the unforgiving tile sending a jolt of pain through my skull.

…

Suddenly, I was being carried.

I felt nothingness, just air, below my feet.

I was being lifted into the air by a warm, strong, muscular body. Panic flared again, sharp and immediate.

"Where… who is it?" I slurred, my voice thick with alcohol and fear.

A familiar voice, grounding and solid, answered.

"It's me. It's Paul. I've got you."

Relief washed over me, so potent it almost brought me to my knees. I burrowed my face into his neck, inhaling the scent of woodsmoke and sea salt, a sharp, clean fragrance that cut through the haze of the alcohol.

"I'm taking you home, Rae," Paul said, his voice a low rumble against my ear. He held me tight, his arms a reassuring cage around me.

He carried me through the club, oblivious to the stares and the noise, his focus solely on me. The air outside was cool and crisp, a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere within. He settled me gently into the passenger seat of his truck, his movements careful and deliberate.

As he buckled my seatbelt, his gaze met mine. His eyes, usually so warm and teasing, were dark with concern. He didn't say anything, but his expression spoke volumes.

The drive back to LaPush was a blur of headlights and passing trees. I drifted in and out of consciousness, the gentle motion of the truck lulling me into a fragile peace. In the quiet darkness, I knew I was safe. Paul had me. And somehow, that made everything okay.

…

When I finally got home, Paul parked his truck in front of my house and helped me to my feet. He held me up as I slowly walked to my front porch.

"Can you get in by yourself?" He asked, concern thick in his voice.

"Yeah." I slurred. I fumbled in my purse for my keys, my fingers clumsy and uncooperative. After what felt like an eternity, I managed to find them. I tried to insert the key into the lock, but my hand was shaking so badly that I kept missing.

Paul gently took the keys from my hand.

"Here, let me." He unlocked the door and handed them back to me.

"Thanks," I mumbled, swaying slightly.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over my arm. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

I leaned against the doorframe, trying to focus. "Yeah. I'll just...sleep it off."

He looked at me, his eyes filled with both relief and apprehension. "Okay. But promise me you'll call me if you need anything, anything at all."

"I promise," I said, meeting his gaze. I knew he meant it. He seemed like he would drop everything for me, no questions asked.

He nodded, a small, sad smile playing on his lips.

"Alright. Get some rest, Rae." He lingered for a moment longer, as if wanting to say something else, then turned and walked back to his truck.

"Call me tomorrow, when you wake up. Promise? So I know you're okay?" He asked.

"I promise, I'll call you tomorrow." I slurred.

I watched him drive away, the taillights disappearing into the darkness. As I walked inside, the silence of the house settled around me, a stark contrast to the chaos of the club. I closed the door behind me, a wave of remorse washing over me.

I had leaned on Paul, put him in the position of having to rescue me. I was grateful, more than words could say, but I also hated myself for being so reckless, so dependent. I needed to be better. I needed to be stronger.

I stumbled to my bedroom, kicking off my shoes and collapsing onto the bed. The room spun for a moment, then slowly settled. I closed my eyes, the scent of woodsmoke and sea salt still clinging to me. I was home, safe and sound, thanks to Paul. But as sleep pulled me under, a nagging voice whispered in the back of my mind: You can't keep doing this, Rae. You can't keep making reckless decisions. You just can't.

And then as soon as I wanted to agree with that voice, Jacob's harsh tone rang through my head, a memory of his attitude towards me earlier in the day, telling me I couldn't be friends with any of his friends.

Should I listen to Jacob or just be friends with Kim, Paul and the others?

Actually, fuck Jacob Black, I thought as I started to fall asleep.

I can be friends with whoever the hell I want. I won't let him ruin my newfound friendships or let him, have me make decisions that lead me astray.

I can do whatever the hell I want.

...

Jacob's Point of View

The humid air hung heavy even before the sun threatened to break the horizon. My body ached with exhaustion. Quil and Leah had taken over mine and Embry's patrol at midnight, their cool, clear thoughts a welcome relief in the pack mind, compared to my chaotic thoughts. Now, just four hours later, the insistent buzzing of the ancient alarm clock ripped me from a fitful slumber.

I dragged myself out of small, single, bed, the familiar weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders. 4:45am. Barely enough time. I stumbled out of my room, stepping over dirty laundry. I made my way to the front door.

I stumbled outside, the dew-soaked grass cold against my bare feet. In the clearing, I peeled off my tattered cutoffs, the cool morning air raising goosebumps on my skin. With practiced efficiency, I tied the denim around the cord I always wore at my ankle, the makeshift marker a necessity for finding my clothes later.

Then, I phased. The bone-deep, involuntary rearranging of flesh and muscle, the surge of raw, animal power. My human skin dissolved away, replaced by a thick coat of coarse, reddish-brown fur. My senses sharpened, the world exploding with smells and sounds I'd long forgotten in my human form.

On four legs, I bolted. I barreled into the trees, the undergrowth snapping beneath my paws. The pack meeting was to be held deep in the woods, a clearing near the creek where the scent of running water masked our presence.

Quil and Leah were the first voices in my head, familiar and comforting. Then Embry, his thoughts still laced with sleepiness. Slowly, the cacophony grew, the thoughts and emotions of the entire pack coalescing into a roaring, mental ocean. Sam's steady hand, the anchor. Jared's ceaseless hunger. Brady's youthful energy. I was just another drop in the tide.

But my focus snagged. A persistent, wavering ember in the mental bonfire. Paul.

He was trying, I could feel it. Trying to block his memories, to keep his mind blank and focused on the task at hand. But Paul wasn't known for his self-control. And the images, fragmented and vivid, spilled over into the pack mind like a burst dam.

Raegan.

He had her in his arms. Her body limp, a rag doll in his strong embrace. I saw the flashing lights of the nightclub, heard the muffled throb of the music, the scent of spilled alcohol and cheap perfume assaulting my heightened senses.

He was carrying her from the washroom. Her pale face, her eyes closed. Had she fainted? Was she sick?

Then, I saw it and heard it. Her scared voice on the phone. She had been attacked. And Paul, always the volatile one, the one with the shortest fuse, had found her.

He carried her to his battered truck, his jaw tight with a barely contained rage. He drove her home, the silence in the cab thick with unspoken tension. She fell asleep in the cab, her face peaceful in sleep. He'd helped her get to her front door, let her lean on him. Then, he left, disappearing into the night, a silent guardian.

Paul had saved my imprint.

The realization hit me like a physical blow, staggering me mid-stride. My paws stumbled over roots, sending a jolt of pain up my leg. The pack mind buzzed with confusion, sensing my sudden distress.

While I... what had I been doing? Patrolling, yes. Fulfilling my duty to the pack. But also… ignoring her. Avoiding her. Convinced that Imprinting was some cruel joke, a cosmic punishment for my past mistakes.

Raegan was my future. My anchor. My reason. And last night, she had been vulnerable, in danger. And I hadn't been there. Paul had.

The shame burned hotter than the rising sun. I had been so focused on avoiding the inevitable, on denying the pull that resonated in my very soul, that I had almost lost everything. Paul, the hothead, the impulsive one, had shown more responsibility, more care, than I had.

I forced myself to breathe, to focus, to push down the wave of self-recrimination that threatened to overwhelm me. I had a lot to make up for. I had to talk to Raegan, to explain, to apologize. And then, I had to prove to her, and to myself, that I deserved her.

The pack meeting was just beginning as I reached the clearing. Sam's voice, calm and authoritative, cut through the mental chaos. But my mind wasn't on pack business. It was on the sleeping girl in the house on the edge of the reservation.

Imprinting. They called it fate, destiny woven into our very being. But I had resisted, fought against the pull, convinced it was some sick twist of the universe aimed to punish me for a life lived carelessly, selfishly. I'd seen the way it could consume others, turning them into mindless puppets, and I wouldn't let it happen to me. Especially not with Raegan. I didn't deserve her.

But Paul... Paul, with his legendary temper and equally legendary lack of foresight, had acted on instinct, on pure, unadulterated protectiveness. He'd put her safety above everything else, even his own chaotic impulses. And he'd done it for me, for our pack.

Because, if my imprint had gotten hurt or died… that pain would fall on our whole pack. The imprints were supposed to be protected not thrown away like trash. The image of Raegan's pale face, of Paul's protective grip, burned in my mind. The sound of her terrified voice on the phone echoed in my ears. I hadn't been there. And Paul had.

I knew that everyone could hear my thoughts, but I didn't care.

Please leave a review!