"You're not going to wake up there. I won't let that happen."
"You can't promise that."
"I can promise that anyone who tries to take you again will have to go through me first. And I can promise that going through me is not a survivable experience. I will sew your body onto mine if that’s what it takes to keep you near me at all times."
I turn to face him. In the darkness, his features are all shadows and angles.
"When I was in there," I say slowly, "during the worst of it, I thought about giving up. About just... letting go. Letting the wall come down. Letting Webb win."
Jace doesn't react. Just listens.
"But every time I got close to that edge, I thought about you. About the way you looked at me the morning after we... after the first time. Like I wasn’t broken." My voice cracks. "And I thought, if I give up now, I'll never know what comes next. I'll never know what we could be."
"Elliot—"
"I'm not saying this to make you feel guilty or responsible. I'm saying it because you should know. You're the reason I survived in there. Not because you rescued me. Because the idea of you, the memory of what we had, was strong enough to hold the wall in place when everything else was crumbling."
He's silent for a long moment. Then he moves, closing the distance between us, pulling me against his chest. I go willingly, pressing my face into the hollow of his throat.
"I don't deserve that," he says quietly. "I'm not a good person. I've done terrible things. I'll probably do more terrible things before this is over. And after"
"I know."
"I can't promise to be gentle. Or kind. Or any of the things a normal person would want."
"I know that too."
"Then why—"
"Because you're mine." I pull back enough to meet his eyes. "You claimed me. Now I'm claiming you back. Whatever you are, whatever you've done, you're mine. And I don't let go of what's mine."
Something shifts in his expression. A crack in the stone.
"That's my line," he says.
"I stole it."
"Apparently."
He kisses me then. Soft at first, almost tentative, like he's asking permission. I answer by pressing closer, opening to him, giving him everything I have left to give.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, the darkness outside doesn't seem quite so dark.
"We should go back to the others," I say.
"We should."
Neither of us moves.
"Five more minutes," he says.
"Five more minutes," I agree.
We stand at the window together, wrapped in each other, and watch the snow begin to fall.
Chapter Seventeen: Jace
Weleavethefarmhousebefore dawn.
