Griff looks past me, eyes landing on Jace like a laser sight. “So youarehome.”
Jace straightens, jaw flexing. “I… didn’t know any of this was happening.”
“Yeah,” Griff says, stepping in close. “Funny how a man never sees the damage until it’s sitting in boxes.”
“Griff,” I warn under my breath.
But Griff doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t even blink.
Jace doesn’t rise to it. His voice stays low, careful, almost too calm. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Good,” Griff fires back. “Because you wouldn’t win.”
The air cracks then, not loud, or visible, just a sharp, invisible pressure between all of us. The kind that makes my chest tighten.
Knox adjusts his stance on the porch, his boot scuffing lightly against the wood as he shifts closer. He doesn’t speak, just rests a hand on the corner of a box near the door, steady, grounding. Not crowding, he’s just… there. Like he’s anchoring the space without saying a word.
“Let’s get the heavy ones first,” I say quickly, trying to redirect before Griff combusts. “The ones in the hallway—”
But Griff cuts me off, voice cracking around the edges. “No. Not yet. I want to hear him say it.”
My stomach drops.
“Say what?” Jace asks quietly.
“That you didn’t choose her,” Griff snarls. “Not once. Not really.”
My breath goes thin. “Griff—”
He lifts a hand, not at me, just enough to stop me from interrupting. He’s not trying to control me. He’s trying to control the part of him that shakes when he’s scared for me.
“You broke her,” Griff says, eyes locked on Jace. “And I had to watch her pretend she wasn’t bleeding for months.”
“Griff,stop.” My voice cracks, humiliatingly soft.
He shakes his head, voice lowering. “Sierra, you don’t have to defend him. Not anymore.”
Jace flinches like the words physically hit him.
Knox steps in then, angling his body just slightly between me and the two of them. Shielding me enough that I can breathe again.
“Griff,” Knox says gently, “this isn’t helping her.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Griff snaps back, “was I supposed to helphiminstead?”
Knox doesn’t rise to it. He just shakes his head once. “You’re pissed. You’re allowed to be. But she’s standing right here. Don’t talk around her; don’t talk like she’s a child who needs translating.”
That hits Griff hard enough to make him deflate half an inch.
Then Knox glances at me, eyes steady and warm. “Tell us where you want us.”
My heart stumbles.
Jace watches the whole thing in silence, jaw tight enough to crack. And for the first time tonight, I see something in his eyes, not anger or defensiveness.
But regret.
Deep, quiet, suffocating regret.
