Renzo’s POV

The days after the stream didn’t come in clean lines.

They smeared together, gray mornings bleeding into gray afternoons, nights that felt too long and yet somehow skipped over entire hours. I couldn’t tell what day it was anymore. Just that Jade was still here.

And that was the worst part.

She didn’t vanish. She didn’t lock herself in her room. She didn’t scream, or throw things, or tell us to go to hell. There was no dramatic fallout, no explosion I could point to and say this is when it broke.

She simply.... emptied.

She walked through the house like she belonged there, like she always had, but it was as if something essential had been scooped out of her and never put back. Her presence didn’t warm a room anymore. It didn’t pull at me the way it used to. It was like standing next to a ghost that still cast a shadow.

Her voice was flat when she spoke, quiet, measured, stripped of inflection. Not cold. Not angry. Just neutral. Her eyes didn’t react to anything. Not jokes, not tension, not us. You could say her name and watch it land on her like a pebble dropped into deep water. No ripple. No response unless she forced one.

No anger.

No sadness.

Just... nothing.

I didn’t know how to fix nothing.

Father noticed, of course. He always did. Alpha Ashford had a way of seeing fractures before they split wide open. Two days after the stream, he laid down a rule over breakfast, his voice calm but immovable.

From now on, we were to drop Jade off at school. Every day. No exceptions.

I waited for her to protest.

Waited for her to lift her head, narrow her eyes, tell him she didn’t need us hovering over her like wardens. Old Jade would’ve snapped something sharp. She would’ve bristled at the implication. She would’ve felt something about it.

But she didn’t.

She didn’t argue.

She didn’t thank him either.

She just nodded once and said, “Okay.”

That was it.

And something about that hurt worse than anything ever could have.

Resistance would’ve meant she still cared. That she still had energy to push back, to defend her space, to claim herself.

Obedience meant she didn’t.

Breakfast became the hardest part of my day.

Every morning, without fail, Jade came down already dressed. Uniform pressed. Backpack packed and slung over one shoulder. Hair neat, not styled elaborately, but tidy, controlled, like she didn’t allow herself mistakes anymore.

She sat at the table quietly, ate methodically, never rushed, never lingering. She didn’t look at any of us unless one of us spoke directly to her. And even then, her gaze slid away as soon as politeness allowed.

She spoke only when absolutely necessary. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

“I’m done.”

“I’ll be late.”

“Excuse me.”

Three words. Four, sometimes. No extra syllables wasted.

Every time she opened her mouth, my wolf whimpered. Soft and broken inside my chest, like it didn’t recognize the bond anymore. The connection was still there, I could feel that, but it was muted. Wrapped in cotton. Like someone had turned the volume down so low I had to strain just to know it existed.

It wasn’t right.

None of this was right.

The small moments were what destroyed us.

Ryder, ever the idiot optimist, asked her one morning if she wanted juice. He’d already reached for a glass, already halfway through the gesture.

She didn’t answer.

She simply stood, poured her own drink, and sat back down.

Not rude. Not pointed. Just... bypassing him entirely.

Another day, Ronan held the door open for her on instinct. She walked through without looking at him, murmured a soft “thanks” that sounded automatic, like muscle memory rather than intention.

When I greeted her, quietly, carefully, she nodded once and kept walking.

No pause.

No eye contact.

No acknowledgment beyond civility.

She was polite.

Civil.

Detached.

Like a guest who didn’t plan to stay long enough to unpack.

The guilt finally cracked us open one night when I told my brothers about the stream.

I hadn’t wanted to. Not really. Saying it out loud made it real in a way I wasn’t ready for. But they deserved to know. They needed to know what we’d missed.

I told them about Jade sending her mother off alone.

About the fire.

About how she stood there by herself, shoulders straight, eyes empty, and didn’t look back once.

Silence followed.

Thick. Crushing.

Ryder swore under his breath, dragging a hand down his face like he wanted to tear his own skin off.

Ronan looked physically ill. His jaw clenched, eyes unfocused, like he was replaying it in his head and hating himself more with every second.

None of us tried to excuse it.

This wasn’t a small mistake.

This wasn’t miscommunication or bad timing or unfortunate coincidence.

This was a fracture.

And the bond knew it.

Our wolves were restless now. Whining. Pacing. Uneasy in a way that set my nerves on edge. They sensed it too, something wrong with our mate, something off balance and dangerous in its quietness.

Linda complicated everything.

She was recovering well, according to the healers. Stronger every day. On her feet again, though she always seemed to need something.

Water.

Help walking.

Someone nearby.

Her father had traveled on a pack assignment, and Father allowed her to continue staying at the mansion until he returned. It made sense. It was the honorable thing to do.

We stayed close to her, not out of affection, if I was being honest, but fear.

Fear of abandoning her.

Fear of repeating the same mistake we’d already made with Jade.

Fear of becoming those people who always chose wrong.

The morning Linda insisted on returning to school, the air felt tight.

She said she was strong enough now, that she didn’t want to fall behind. Father agreed after a long look from the healer.

Breakfast that day felt like a funeral.

Jade entered the dining hall like she always did now, perfectly put together, quiet, self contained. There was something painfully beautiful about her in that moment. Not radiant. Not glowing.

Just... enduring.

My chest tightened. My wolf whimpered aloud before I could stop it, a soft sound that made Ryder glance at me sharply.

Jade didn’t react.

She ate in silence, finished, stood.

Linda was already heading toward the car when Jade adjusted the strap of her backpack.

I saw it click in her head. Saw the calculation. The acceptance.

If Linda took the car with us, there will be no space to take Jade with us.

Before any of us could speak, Jade said calmly, “It’s fine. I’ll walk.”

No bitterness.

No pause.

No accusation.

She turned and walked away before any of us could stop her.

I stayed frozen in place, heart pounding, watching the same sick pattern repeat itself like a curse we couldn’t break.

At school, I kept looking for her.

First class, nothing.

Second class, nothing.

By the third, my anxiety was clawing up my spine, my wolf snarling restlessly beneath my skin.

She never arrived.

And the only thought in my head was loud, panicked, and relentless.

Where the hell is Jade?