"Brielle."
Not Bree. Not the name everyone else uses.
Brielle.
Like he knows something about me that I don't know about myself
Chapter 14
Jace
The kitchen feels like a graveyard after everyone scatters. Theo's hunched over his laptop, typing like he's trying to escape through the keyboard. Rhett leans against the counter, staring out the window at nothing, his jaw working like he's chewing on words he can't say.
And me? I'm standing here like an idiot, trying to figure out how everything went sideways so fast.
"Well," I say, aiming for my usual lightness, "pretty sure they're gonna replace us with council guys who wear silk and smirk for a living."
The joke falls flat. Hits the floor and dies there.
Rhett doesn't even glance my way. Theo stops typing.
"Then stop acting like you're expendable."
The words slice through the air, sharp enough to draw blood. Theo doesn't look up from his screen, but there's steel in his voice I've never heard before. Cold and cutting and aimed right at my chest.
The silence that follows feels sharp enough to choke on.
I blink, caught off guard by the sudden venom. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know exactly what it means." Theo's fingers have gone still on the keyboard, but he still won't look at me. "You deflect with jokes every time something gets real. Like you're afraid if you stop being funny for five seconds, we'll realize we don't need you."
The words hit like a sucker punch. My throat tightens, but I force out a laugh that sounds hollow even to me. "Jesus, Theo. Tell me how you really feel."
That finally gets him to look up. His dark eyes are sharp with frustration, but there's something else there too. Something that looks almost like regret.
"Jace, wait—"
"Nah." I shake my head, already backing toward the door. "It's fine. Really. Message received loud and clear."
I'm out of the kitchen before either of them can say another word, my heart hammering against my ribs like it's trying to escape. The hallway feels too narrow, like the walls are closing in and I can't quite catch my breath.
Expendable.
The word echoes in my head, mixing with Theo's voice until I can't tell which one's worse—hearing it or knowing he's probably right.
I need air. Need space. Need to move before I do something stupid like punch a wall or break down in the middle of the hallway where anyone might see.
The back door slams harder than I mean it to as I step outside, cold air hitting my overheated skin like a slap. The yard is quiet, empty, just shadows and moonlight stretching across the grass. Better than the suffocating weight of concern inside.
I grab my throwing knives from where I stashed them by the door—old habit from when we were kids and I needed somewhere to put my restless energy. The familiar weight of the blades in my hands is grounding, real in a way nothing else feels right now.
If I can't be magical, I can at least be sharp.
The first knife flies true, embedding in the old oak with a satisfying thunk. The second follows, then the third. Fast, angry throws that dare something—anything—to come at me.
But as I settle into the rhythm, something starts to shift.
The fourth knife veers slightly midair, correcting its trajectory in a way that shouldn't be possible. I feel the air shift around me, just enough to raise goosebumps.
