Grace couldn't wait a second longer. The tension that had coiled in her muscles from this impossible waiting game finally snapped, and before she even realized it, she was out the front door—without her winter coat. Not that she needed it. Her body ran so hot that any more layers than her long-sleeve and jeans would have felt suffocating.
Did I mention I forgot my shoes? Yeah. Those were probably still sitting somewhere by the door.
But none of that mattered. There was only one place she needed to be before the sun dipped behind the mountain peaks—Esme's house. She was going to find her, take her hand, and they were going to the beach.
Grace's stride faltered, her foot catching against the uneven ground as something foreign—something wrong—coiled at the edges of her mind. Not words, not exactly. More like a pressure, a presence threading through her thoughts, twisting into something she could understand.
You mean the meeting, pup.
She stopped. Just stopped, breath hitching as every nerve in her body went taut. That voice—no, not a voice, not like Esme's or Emily's or anyone else's. It wasn't sound. It was thought, dripping with something ancient, something primal.
Her heart pounded against her ribs.
No. No, no, no—
She staggered back a step, her lungs burning despite the freezing air. The last time she'd felt something like this—something so deeply embedded in her body yet so utterly not her—she had been lying broken and bleeding, the world a blur of agony as her bones cracked, realigned, and shredded her apart.
Her stomach twisted violently.
"Shut up," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
The reaction was immediate.
The Wolf bristled, surging forward, pushing into her mind like a wave threatening to swallow her whole. Enough, child.
Grace gasped as the presence flared hotter, burning against her very being—not painful, but absolute.
I do not hide from you. The Wolf's voice was deeper now, not just a whisper in the dark but a force wrapping itself around her senses. I do not cower in silence.
Her breath came in short, rapid bursts.
You ignore me. You reject me. But I am still here.
Her fingers twitched. She could feel it. Not just in her head but in her limbs, in her bones. The Wolf had never been separate from her, had never been some distant entity lurking in the background. It had always been woven into her very existence.
Her stomach twisted, her throat tightening.
"I didn't ask for you," she hissed through clenched teeth.
A low rumble reverberated through her chest—not a sound she had made, but one she could feel.
Neither did I ask for you, the Wolf shot back. Yet here we we are stronger.
Grace swallowed hard, her pulse hammering in her ears.
You are afraid of me, the Wolf observed, its tone lacking judgment, simply stating fact. But I am not your enemy.
Her hands curled into fists. She didn't want to hear this. She didn't want to acknowledge it.
The Wolf quieted then, though its presence remained, not retreating this time, but waiting.
Grace exhaled shakily, shoving down the overwhelming emotions clawing at her chest.
She didn't respond. She just ran.
The wind bit at her skin, but she barely felt it. The rhythmic pounding of her feet against the frozen earth should have been grounding, should have drowned out the voice curling in her mind—but it didn't. It was still there, lurking, waiting.
By the time she reached the edge of the Cullens' property, the massive home came into view, its towering glass windows glowing softly against the winter dusk. She didn't slow, her breath ragged in her chest, her body already aching from the run.
As she reached the porch, Emmett was standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe. His eyes lit up when he saw her, but his usual teasing grin was softened, replaced by something more sincere.
"Thought you were gonna leave us hanging for a bit longer," Emmett said, but there was no bite in his voice—just warmth, like he was trying to help her find her ground.
Jasper stood beside him, hands in his pockets, his expression quieter, more contemplative. He didn't speak immediately. His gaze swept over Grace, eyes sharp with the understanding they had built between them. The past week had tested them all, but there was no judgment in his gaze, only empathy.
Grace stood there for a moment, her chest heaving, unsure whether to laugh or cry at the sight of them. She'd been running from the fear, the confusion, the rage inside her, but now that she was here, with them, it was hard to keep it all contained. She had thought she could push everything away, keep the tears at bay, but the weight of everything she'd been through over the past few days—her transformation, the pain, the anger—came crashing down like a tidal wave.
"Grace?" Emmett's voice softened, his usual playful tone replaced with something steadier, more protective. He stepped forward slightly, his massive form creating a presence that almost seemed to absorb the chill of the air.
"I didn't mean…" She faltered, her throat tight. "I didn't mean for any of this." Graces eyes were scanning over the male vampires faces for any signs of the damage she had done. "...I don't… I don't know how to fix it." Her voice cracked on the last word.
Her fingers started to tug at the hem of her shirt, the fabric bunched between her fingers as if she could squeeze the tension out of her body by pulling at it. She avoided their eyes, focusing on the tug of the cloth, trying to distract herself from the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over.
Jasper stepped forward then, his usual calmness settling over her like a quiet wave. "You don't have to fix anything, Grace," he said, his voice low but steady. "What happened… it wasn't your fault." His golden eyes flickered with something more than understanding—compassion. "We know you didn't want this. You're not the monster."
The words hit her like a physical force. The dam she'd been holding back broke, and tears welled up in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks before she could stop them. She wiped them quickly, embarrassed, but her hands trembled too much. It felt too much like admitting defeat.
She could feel the fabric of her shirt still twisted between her fingers. It was the only thing she could focus on as the tears came faster, but even the constant fidgeting couldn't stop the flood of emotions.
Emmett was by her side in a second, one large hand on her shoulder, his usual exuberance replaced by the kind of steady, unspoken strength he could offer without a single word. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured. "There is no way in hell that you'd be able to break us." He said all while leading Grace into the front room. "You're a strong puppy, but I'm one tough rock." He chuckled.
Jasper shook his head, his voice low. "You don't have to fix anything. Nothing was broken."
Grace stood there, feeling their words warmth like an anchor, like something she hadn't realized she needed so desperately. The pain she had been trying to ignore—the guilt, the fear, the feeling of being out of control—began to ease, bit by bit.
Her chest still ached, but she knew, deep down, she wasn't alone. And somehow, that made the tears easier to let go.
As Grace's breath slowed, her heart still racing, she felt the presence of the girls before she heard them. It was like the air shifted, charged with energy that felt both calming and electric. She looked up, startled to see Alice and Rosalie standing behind their men, their expressions a mix of concern and amusement.
Alice was the first to speak, her voice light but with a sharp edge of playful teasing. "Well, well, well," she said, raising an eyebrow, "look at this. The great Emmett Cullen, reduced to being the big, tough guy… and making Grace cry in the process?" Her tone was mock-scolding, but the concern in her eyes softened any bite in the words.
Rosalie crossed her arms over her chest, lips curled in a smirk. "Emmett," she said with feigned disappointment. "I thought you were better than this."
Emmett chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't make her cry, I swear! She's just… it's complicated." His eyes flickered to Grace, the vulnerability and tenderness in them softening his usual playful demeanor.
Grace blinked, feeling a lump in her throat again, though this time, it wasn't from the weight of guilt or fear. It was from the warmth, the unexpected comfort she hadn't realized she was craving. She was still so used to carrying everything on her own, still not sure how to accept the unconditional support they were offering.
Alice, always quick to read the mood, softened her teasing. She stepped forward, her eyes glistening with a mixture of affection and understanding. "Grace," she said, her voice gentler now, "you've been through hell. You've come out the other side, stronger than you know. It's okay to lean on us. We've all been there, in one way or another." Alice winked.
Rosalie uncrossed her arms and gave Grace a sincere look. "You've got strength in you, even when you don't see it. You have something inside you that the rest of us can't even imagine. We all feel it." Her words were quiet, but they carried weight, offering Grace the kind of respect and admiration she hadn't fully realized she deserved.
Jasper, standing off to the side, nodded in agreement, his quiet presence reassuring. "We're a family, Grace. We'll help you find your way, piece by piece, if that's what you need."
Emmett, who had been watching the whole exchange with an amused but tender smile, took a step forward. He gave Grace a gentle nudge, his expression softening. "We've all got your back, kid."
Grace stood there, feeling a rush of gratitude and something deeper, something she hadn't quite let herself acknowledge before. The people around her—her pack, her family—understood her, even the darker parts of herself that she had been so terrified to face.
Her smile, small but genuine, tugged at the corners of her lips. "Thank you," she said softly, the words barely a whisper but filled with more sincerity than she could express.
Alice's grin softened, her eyes bright with unshed emotion. "Always, babe. We can even get you a better cell phone so you can always reach us." She added with a wink.
Rosalie gave her a reassuring look, her expression kind yet strong. "Yeah, whatever you're using now is so out dated."
Emmett ruffled her hair, his usual playful grin back on his face. "Time to jump into the fresh new world, wolf girl."
Jasper, giving a small but approving nod, added, "I wouldn't know much better than you. I haven't the faintest clue what else I'd need to do with it."
Grace let out a shaky laugh, feeling the weight on her chest lift, even just a little. She wasn't sure she deserved any of this, but here they were, all of them—her new family. And for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to believe that maybe she did.
The room seemed to grow a bit quieter then, the soft hum of comfort filling the space, until the sound of the front door opening broke the moment. Grace turned her head instinctively as the door creaked, the familiar scent of Esme washing over her before the soft click of shoes on the floor followed.
Esme's entry into the room was as graceful as ever, but the moment she stepped inside, she froze—her eyes immediately locking on Grace. The sight of her, standing there with tear streaks still visible on her cheeks, made Esme's heart seize in a way she had never experienced before.
It wasn't just the fact that Grace was crying, but that something in Esme's instincts snapped the moment their gazes met. It was an overwhelming, immediate surge of protectiveness, as if her very soul was telling her that nothing—nothing—could harm this young woman standing before her.
Her eyes darkened, and though her expression was always warm and loving, there was something fierce behind it now. The emotional shift was palpable, like an electric charge in the air that only Grace could sense. Every protective cell in her body activated, and all thoughts of composure were erased as she took swift, confident steps toward Grace, her eyes never leaving her.
Esme's hand lifted automatically, her cool fingers gently touching Grace's tear-streaked face. The coldness of her touch should have been shocking, but instead, it was grounding—a way to reassure Grace that everything would be okay. Her fingers lingered, wiping away the remnants of the tears as her gaze softened, but there was something else—an unspoken message in the look she gave the others in the room.
"You did this." Her voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable edge to it, a quiet but fierce undercurrent of protection as she addressed Emmett. She wasn't asking for answers; she wasn't going to demand an explanation. She could already feel what had happened—the connection with Grace had revealed it all. Her protective instincts kicked in, every inch of her attuned to Grace's discomfort and vulnerability.
Esme's entire demeanor shifted. No longer was she the calm, nurturing figure that everyone turned to for comfort—now she was a mother bear, her stance widened slightly, her shoulders squared. Every fiber of her being was focused on Grace, ready to shield her from whatever had caused this distress, and ready to take on anyone or anything that threatened her.
Her eyes briefly flicked toward the boys, but they could all see it. The change. Esme was in full mate protective mode. It wasn't just about Grace being upset—there was a deep, instinctual reaction inside Esme that she couldn't ignore. She had already claimed this young woman as her own, and anyone who dared hurt Grace would have to go through her first.
She took a deep breath, regaining control over her initial surge of emotions. "Sweetheart," she said, her voice softening as she met Grace's gaze again, "Tell me what happened."
It wasn't an interrogation. It was a request. A gentle plea for Grace to trust her, to open up. And, though the words were calm, there was still that intense focus in Esme's gaze. Every part of her wanted to shield Grace from the pain she was clearly feeling. She wanted to fix it, to make everything better.
But it wasn't just about the tears or the hurt. It was about Grace being hers—Esme's, in the deepest, most primal way.
As Emmett cracked a joke, trying to lighten the mood, Esme's expression darkened just a fraction, her protectiveness pushing back against his teasing tone. She could feel the warmth of Grace's emotions in the room, and the mix of anxiety and guilt that still lingered in the air. But it was clear that nothing—not even Emmett's attempts at humor—would shake her protective wall.
Jasper, seeing the shift in Esme, took a subtle step back, his own calmness settling the atmosphere. He could feel the emotional tension from Esme and understood the depth of her protective nature. But even he knew there was no point in trying to fight it. This was how Esme was, how she had always been—fierce in her love for those she considered her own.
Rosalie, though usually sharp with her words, stood silent in the background, watching her family dynamic unfold with an unspoken respect for the intensity of Esme's maternal instincts. Even Alice, who was so used to seeing the future unfold, didn't dare step forward too quickly. They all understood: in that moment, Esme wasn't just a member of the Cullen family—she was a force of nature, prepared to protect what she loved at any cost.
Esme's sharp gaze flickered over the room, taking in every detail—the way her family stood back, the lingering wetness on Grace's cheeks, the slight tension still coiled in her shoulders. Her mate was upset, and that alone was enough to stir something fierce and unwavering inside her.
Without a word, Esme lifted a gentle hand, fingertips brushing against Grace's wrist before curling around it with quiet certainty. She didn't pull, didn't demand—she simply led. A silent promise woven into the way she guided Grace toward the kitchen, away from the eyes of the others.
Behind them, the family moved without question. Jasper and Alice disappeared up the stairs, while Rosalie nudged Emmett in the ribs, earning a mock-offended huff as she ushered him toward their room.
The house settled, leaving only the two of them in the warmest space it had to offer.
Esme finally stopped, turning to face Grace fully, her grip loosening but not quite letting go. Her golden eyes searched Grace's face, as if memorizing every detail, as if willing away every ache, every uncertainty.
"Talk to me, sweetheart," she murmured, voice as soft as the hands that now cradled Grace's own. "I'm here."
Esme's words cracked something open inside Grace—something she had been holding together with sheer will, too afraid to loosen her grip. But standing here, with Esme's hands wrapped around hers, her mate's coldness anchoring her, she realized she didn't have to hold it all in anymore.
Her breath hitched. Her fingers curled into the fabric of Esme's sleeve, gripping as if letting go would send her spiraling. The weight of everything—the fight, the fear, the guilt—came rushing up her throat like a flood finally breaking past a dam.
"I—" The word was strangled, her chest heaving as she struggled for control she no longer had. A sob tore through her before she could swallow it back, her body trembling under the force of it.
Esme didn't hesitate. She pulled Grace into her arms, wrapping her up with the kind of unwavering strength only she could offer. There was no judgment, no expectation—just the quiet assurance that Grace was safe.
"I hurt them," Grace gasped against Esme's shoulder, her voice thick with anguish. "I lost fucking control, and I—" Another sob cut her off, her hands now gripping the back of Esme's sweater like a lifeline. "How can they just forgive me like that!? How could they still look even fucking look at me like-like I belong here!?"
Esme's embrace tightened, one hand stroking slow, calming circles against Grace's back. "Because you do belong here," she murmured. "Because they understand. You weren't yourself, sweetheart. You were in pain, fighting something that none of us could have prepared you for."
Grace shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "What if it happens again?" she choked out. "What if next time, I don't stop? What if I hurt you?"
Esme pulled back just enough to cup Grace's face in her hands, thumbs brushing away the dampness staining her skin. Her golden eyes burned with a fierce, unwavering devotion.
"Listen to me, Grace," Esme said, her voice steady, leaving no room for doubt. "You are not a monster. You are not broken. And you are certainly not beyond saving. Whatever happens—whatever you face—we will face it together. No matter how much you fight, how much you struggle, I will always stand by you. I will never turn away from you. And I will never be afraid of you."
Grace's breath hitched, another wave of emotion crashing over her. But this time, she let it. She let herself break, let herself lean into Esme's touch, into the love and safety she offered so freely.
Because she wasn't alone. Not anymore.
#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#
I love how their relationship is coming together. I do hope when Grace meets the cousins that things won't be unhinged. The Denali Coven follow the vampire laws and know the destructive power of a COM first hand.