“Please.” Grace ducks between us and gets right up in Jaxon’s face with her big brown eyes and sweet smile, even though I’m the one currently being choked.

For a second, I think about blasting out and using my power to persuade him to back the hell off, but I don’t want to do that to him unless I actually think he’s going to kill me. And if we get to that point, then we’re all fucked. But for now, he’s really more about causing pain and humiliation than actually trying to murder me, so I’ll bide my time.

Grace doesn’t seem to know that, though, considering she’s now got her fingers wrapped around his hand and is trying to pry him off me. I’d say something, but he is cutting into my windpipe, so there’s not a lot there to use to vocalize.

“Come on, Jaxon,” she says in a voice that won’t be ignored. “Don’t do this.”

He barely even looks at her. But the others are all up in the mess now, yelling at Jaxon, trying to pry him off me, and it’s still not working. I’m thinking I’m going to have to do something soon or everyone is going to be totally freaked out. Apparently, they just don’t do sibling rivalry over here in America the same way we do it in Britain.

And then Grace does something that makes me think twice about letting this go on. My mate reaches up and cups my brother’s cheeks in her hands. Then she whispers, “Jaxon, look at me.”

It’s a bloody gut punch after she spent the weekend at the Dragon Court looking at me just like that. Holding me just like that.

He finally looks at her—of course he does. This is Grace, and how could he not? I’d do anything—everything—to have her look at me like that, just for an instant.

“It’s okay,” she whispers to him. “I’ve got you, Jaxon. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Whatever this is, whatever’s going on. I swear I’ve got you.”

The words make me bleed, but as Jaxon starts to shake, I actually do wonder if there’s something more going on than my brother being a whiny arse.

And when he whispers, “Grace, something’s wrong. Something’s—” I can’t help growing worried.

“I know,” she answers as the whole room starts to shake. Things are falling off the walls, stones are cracking, and Jaxon’s hand tightens on my throat enough that I start to feel light-headed. The room spins, and things start to go dim.

Thirty more seconds, I tell myself. Thirty more seconds and I’ll do something to end this. But if I do that, if I break into his mind, that’s a move I can’t take back.

“The Northern Lights just came out, Jaxon,” Grace whispers to him, her voice sweet and light. “They’re right outside.”

All around us, her friends make noises like she’s doing something wrong. But I lived in her head long enough to know exactly where she’s going. And while it hurts a lot to think of her like that—to think of them like that—I just let it roll over me. I can take the pain. I’m not sure Jaxon can.

“Do you remember that night?” she asks. “I was so nervous, but you just held my hand and took me right off the edge of the parapet.”

The whole room shakes like a never-ending explosion is rocking its foundations. But still Grace doesn’t give up.

“You danced me across the sky. Remember? We stayed out for hours. I was freezing, but I didn’t want to go in. I didn’t want to miss a second out there with you.”

“Grace.” His voice is agonized, his eyes broken as he focuses fully on her for the first time. It’s the opening I’ve been waiting for, the chance to resolve this without crossing any more lines, but as Grace snuggles into him a little more, I strike out with perhaps a touch too much strength, and Jaxon goes flying.

My little brother roars as he hits the wall next to the door hard enough to leave a full-body imprint in the centuries-old stone. He recovers fast, though, and comes right at me as I bend over and suck a full breath in for the first time in long minutes.

Jaxon takes a swing at me—big surprise—and I dodge it. But when he whirls around and tries to use his telekinesis on me again, I’ve had enough.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I growl and direct just enough power at him to make the marble beneath his feet explode, opening up a hole that Jaxon falls in.

It only takes him a second to jump out and come straight at me again. Which is fine. I’ve put up with a hell of a lot from this arse for the past few weeks, and right now, I’m done. I’m bleeding done.

Everyone must know it, too, because the others grab on to Jaxon with everything they have while Grace whirls on me.

“Stop!” she yells, and I freeze, even before she continues. “You need to back off. Something’s really wrong with him.”

She’s right. I know she’s right—I can feel it in him myself. But I can’t help being pissed off that she’s taking his side again.

Nothing to be done, though, short of acting like a tosser myself, so I nod and take a step back. Just in time to watch her turn back to Jaxon…as always.

Jaxon’s calmed down enough that Flint and Eden feel comfortable letting him go. Luca gets between him and me—it’s a little laughable that he thinks he’s going to stop another confrontation, but I don’t say anything.

Especially since it’s Grace who convinces Mekhi to drop his hold on my brother with a whispered, “I’ve got him.”

And then she walks right to him—right fucking to him—and pulls him into her arms.

It hurts more than I thought possible, even though I understand. There is something really wrong with my brother, and Grace is the only one he trusts to deal with it.

Fine, whatever. It doesn’t make it any easier for me to see her holding him, his face buried against her neck and their bodies curving together.

And fuck, I don’t want to do this. I just don’t want to do this anymore. I’m sick of coming in second to my brother with my own mate over and over again.

I get it. I do. They’ve got history. They love each other. And I love them both. If something is wrong with my brother, of course I want him to get the help he needs. I just wish that help wasn’t always from Grace.

They whisper between themselves for a couple of minutes, and I don’t even try to hear. Whatever it is, it’s between them. And once I know she’s safe, that Jaxon isn’t going to lash out at anyone else, I’ll leave. Give them both the space they need.

And, selfishly I know, to give myself the space I need. Because it’s hard not to need space when Grace starts talking this time, loud enough for the entire room to hear.

“You listen to me, Jaxon Vega,” she orders loudly. “Whatever’s happened between us, you will always be my problem. You will always matter to me. And I’m scared. I’m really scared, and I need you to tell me what’s going on with you.”

He starts to speak, then just shakes his head until she whispers, “Why did the Crone say that today? Why did she say that you don’t have a soul?”

Everything inside me freezes even before Jaxon answers, “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“You mean it’s true?” she asks. “How? When? Why?”

Like everyone else in the room, I lean forward to catch his answer, even as terror rips through me. Because no matter how pissed off I am at him and this situation right now, he’s still the kid I used to protect from Cyrus. Still the kid I did my best to hide from Delilah’s wrath. Still the kid I chose to die for when the only alternative was killing him.

“I knew something was wrong—it’s been wrong for weeks. So when I was in London this last time, I went to see a healer,” he tells Grace, even as he keeps a death grip on her hand.

“What did she say?” Grace answers.

“He said—” Jaxon’s voice breaks. “He said that when the mating bond broke, our souls broke, too.”

And fuck. Just fuck. I want to howl as rage and horror and fear tear through me in equal measures.

“What does that mean?” Grace asks. “How can our souls be broken? How can they—” Her voice breaks, too.

“It’s because it happened against our wills—and so violently that it nearly destroyed us right when it happened. Remember?”

“Of course I remember,” she whispers.

“You mated to Hudson right after, so the healer is pretty sure his soul wrapped itself around yours and is holding yours together, so you’ll be okay. But I’m…”

“Alone,” she says.

“Yeah. And without anything to hang on to, the pieces of my soul are dying one by one.”

“What does that mean?” she demands. “What can we do?”

“Nothing,” he answers with a shrug. “There’s nothing to do, Grace, except wait for my soul to die completely.”

“What happens then?” Grace whispers.

His grin is bitter. “Then I become the monster everyone’s always expected me to be.”

There’s a lot more talking, a lot more horrible news to wade through, but I barely listen to any of it. Because there’s nothing more to say that matters. Nothing more to say that will change anything.