We stand there for another awkward moment, the weight of what we’re not talking about pressing down between us.
“I should…” Wes gestures toward his room.
“Yeah. Me too.”
But neither of us moves.
“Jace?” Wes’s voice is quiet, almost uncertain.
“Yeah?”
For a second, it looks like he’s going to say something important. Something that might cut through all the careful politeness and get to whatever’s really bothering him.
Instead, he steps closer and kisses me.
It’s soft, brief—nothing like the desperate hunger from before. Just his lips against mine for a heartbeat, warm and sure.
When he pulls back, his eyes are serious. “This doesn’t change anything. What happened between us.”
My chest tightens. “Wes—”
“Goodnight, Jace.”
He’s already moving before I can figure out what to say back.
I watch him walk away, noting the tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before. The way he keeps glancing back toward Bree’s room like he’s forgotten something but can’t remember what.
When I finally make it to the kitchen, I can’t shake the feeling that there was more to that conversation and that kiss than either of us was willing to admit. Something lurking underneath the surface awkwardness that felt heavier than simple post-sex weirdness.
But as I drink my water and head back to my own room, Bree’s satisfied smile fills my mind and pushes everything else aside.
She’s finally becoming who she’s meant to be. And whatever small doubts might be creeping around the edges, they’re not worth examining too closely.
Not when she’s finally, truly happy.
Chapter 24
Stellan
The sanctuary kitchen at breakfast is a study in practiced normalcy.
Jace stands at the stove, flipping pancakes with more focus than the task requires, hair still sticking up on one side from sleep. The smell of butter and coffee fills the air, mixing with the sound of scraping plates and muffled conversation. Rhett sits at the counter, close enough to steal bites when Jace isn’t looking. Wes stares out the window like he’s seeing something the rest of us can’t.
Theo has a folded piece of paper beside his plate—correspondence from somewhere, judging by the careful way he’s not looking at it. Gray sits at the far end of the table, silent and watchful, picking at food he’s not really eating. Thane occupies his usual spot near the wall, silver eyes tracking every movement with predatory focus.
All of them here. All of them avoiding what matters.
It’s been three days since Thane told me about the Council’s decision. Three days since I went to Zira, knowing she’d feel the need to protect Feeders as much as I did. Three days since we’ve been working around the clock to get as many through the Oath as possible before the hammer falls.
And three days of watching the woman wearing Bree’s face plan this Council dinner like it’s her sixteenth birthday party instead of a political execution.
“You’re gonna burn those,” Rhett mumbles, nodding toward the stove.
“I don’t burn things,” Jace says without turning around. “I create controlled breakfast experiences.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Wes’s mouth quirks up slightly. “Because I remember some very uncontrolled heat experiences lately.”
“Shut up.” But Jace is grinning, and for a moment, they almost look like the same boys who stumbled into this place months ago.
