Miracle's POV
I clasped a hand over my mouth, but the sob tore through me anyway. It was a useless, stupid gesture. Crying always won.
"When?" The word was a blade in my throat.
"It just happened, sweetheart. I'm sorry."
"Grandpa…no." I shook my head, a frantic, childlike denial. I wanted to rewind time. To be seventeen again, a week from my birthday, standing in that bookstore. To the second my eyes locked with Steve's.
I would go back.
And I would look away.
I would turn and run like hell.
My grandfather's hand, rough and familiar, rubbed my cheek. "I love you. I missed two years of your life. Two years I can't get back. It's too late for me, but not for you. Not for you, my girl."
My whole body shook. "Don't leave me. Please, don't go. Don't leave me"
"I love you. Now promise me you will go home."
"What if Dad—" My voice cracked.
"He wants you home. More than anything. Now say goodbye."
I crashed into him, my arms locking around his neck. "I love you, I love you, I love you," I chanted, a desperate prayer against his skin.
"I love you too. Now, go back!" he roared, his voice suddenly fierce, full of kingly command. "Go home! Your family needs you! LEAVE!"
It was an order. Final.
I tried to turn, but he yanked me back into one last, crushing embrace. "Goodbye, sweetheart." He exhaled, and the sound was full of a lifetime of love. Then he shoved me—hard—into a blinding, white light.
"Grandpa!"
**
My eyes snapped open.
Rain hit my face. The first thing I saw was a huge digital news board flashing through the downpour: His Royal Majesty, King Cypher Cole, Dies at 71.
"I'm going home, Grandpa," I whispered to the empty, wet air. "I'm going home."
I blinked, my vision clearing. I wished it had stayed blurry. Then I wouldn't have to see the truth.
Xavier hadn't come.
I was still lying on the bus bench like trash. Soaked through. The white chiffon dress was transparent, plastered to my skin, offering no protection from the stares of strangers passing by.
Xavier.
A sad, broken sound that was supposed to be a laugh escaped me.
Who could blame him? When you burn a bridge, you don't get to complain about being stranded.
I should have answered his calls. I should have kept my number. If I had, I wouldn't be here—battered, bleeding, and utterly alone.
I stood up. My feet, acting on a two-year-old habit, started carrying me toward Steve's apartment.
I stopped dead.
If I didn't stop myself, I would go back. My body was betraying me, drawn to the poison it knew.
I forced myself to turn around.
"Ira!"
The voice hit me in the back. I turned.
Steve stood a few feet away, just as soaked as I was. Every cell in my body screamed to run to him...to hurt just like he hurt me.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
I need help. Now. Any god, any goddess, listen to me. I need help because I am five seconds from committing murder.
"Ira!" he called again, impatient."Come here, baby. You know you want to. I'm gonna catch a cold out here!"
I closed my eyes, a final, silent scream in my mind. Help me!
"Miracle."
My eyes flew open. The name—my name—cut through the rain. Had I imagined it?
"Miracle. Hey."
He was there. Right in front of me. Solid. Real. Xavier.
"Xav," I sobbed, the sound ripped from a place of pure relief. "You came."
"Of course I came."
I fell against him, wrapping my arms around his waist, clinging to his strength. He was an anchor in my hurricane.
He gently pushed me back, his eyes zeroing in on the blood crusted on my temple, the ugly cut. His face darkened, his expression shifting from worry to something dangerous.
"Who did this to you?" he demanded, his voice a low growl. "Tell me who did this, Sis."
"Help me, Xavier. I just want to go home."
"Ira, who the hell is this?"
I spun around. Steve was closer now, staring at us with a mix of confusion and possession.
"You need to leave," I told him. "Right now. You have no idea what you've lost. No fucking idea! This is the worst mistake of your life!"
I could feel the rage, a corrosive fire in my veins. The werewolf part of me, the 75% I'd locked away, surged to the surface. Murder was in my eyes. And from the way Xavier's fists clenched, he was more than ready to deliver it.
We are Alphas. I am a hybrid.
Steve got in my face, oblivious to the danger. "You think you can live without me, huh?"
I thought about it. Every pathetic, broken piece of me wanted to say no. But then I heard my grandmother. Remember who you are.
"Ira! Do you hear me? You can't live without me! No one will ever love you, Ira. You are difficult to love. I would know, I have tried"
"I am not difficult to love" I whispered.
"Yes, you are. Deep down, you know it, Ira White"
"NO, I AM NOT! AND MY NAME IS MIRACLE!" I screamed, the power in my voice making him flinch back. "I am Waylen Xavier Cole's daughter! I am a princess! I am a fucking hybrid! You think I can't live without you? Watch me, you piece of trash!"
I turned to my brother, my body trembling with adrenaline and fever.
Xavier touched my face, his anger melting into deep concern. "Miracle... there's nobody there." His voice was soft. "You're burning up. You're delirious."
"No, he came for me! I was brave! I told him off! Dad would be proud!" I pointed at the empty space where Steve had been standing. "He's right there!"
"Oh, sweetie," Xavier said, his voice gentle. "There's no one there."
I blinked.
I had imagined it. The final, pathetic proof that he had broken me completely.
The world tilted violently. My knees buckled, but before I could hit the ground, Xavier's arms caught me, lifting me up against his chest.
"I've got you, sweetheart," he murmured, cradling me close. "I've got you, Sister. Let's go home."