I neededhim.
Not the apology he’d practiced, not the careful phrasing meant to sound nice, not borrowed words meant to make things neat and forgivable.
I needed the Jace underneath all of that.
And whether he realized it or not, I’d seen him in that apology. Between the lines, his darkness had been hiding in plain sight.
He wasn’t sorry the way normal people were sorry.He wasn’t wracked with guilt because he’d crossed a moral line everyone agreed on. He was sorrybecausehe’d almost lost me. Because something he considered his had slipped out of his grasp, and the terror of that had consumed him.
His apology hadn’t been about absolution.
It had been about fear.
And for someone used to being the one on the other end of fear…
I swallowed and finally looked at him properly.
Jace was watching me like a man waiting for a verdict. Like the ground beneath him was cracked, and he didn’t know which way it would give. His hands were folded together now, knuckles faintly white.
He would fight for me.
I knew that with a certainty that settled deep in my bones.
Not just with words. Not with promises or plans or apologies. He would fight systems, people, consequences—even himself. He would tear the world apart with his bare hands if it meant keeping me.
“Daddy,” I whispered.
Jace’s breath caught audibly. His pupils dilated.
“Elior…” he began, his voice hoarse.
I shrank back a little out of instinct, suddenly afraid I’d overstepped. “I-I know things are different now,” I rushed softly. “And I know I’m not… I’m not ready to pretend nothing happened. I don’t trust things the way I used to. I don’t trustyouthe way I used to.”
Jace gritted his teeth.
“But,” I continued, swallowing around the knot in my throat, “I don’t want you to stop being my Daddy.”
His reaction was immediate.
His eyes widened, searching my face as if he were worried this was some kind of test he could fail. Then something brighter flared beneath it—excitement.
“You—” He stopped himself, dragged in a steadying breath. When he spoke again, his voice was measured. “Are you sure, baby?”
I nodded.
“It might take a while,” I admitted. “I might get scared again. Or confused. I might pull away sometimes.” My voice wavered, but I held his gaze. “But I… I love you so much.”
He shifted closer. “Thank you,” he murmured, taking my hand in his. His voice dropped, rough with emotion he no longer bothered to hide. “God, baby. Fuck. Thank you. I won’t let you regret it.”
I looked at him through my lashes. “Can you hug me now, Daddy?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed.
Daddy’s strong arms surrounded me as he pulled me to his chest—one hand splayed between my shoulder blades, the other curling protectively around my waist. His chin rested against the top of my head, his breath uneven where it brushed against my hair.
“You have no idea how much I missed having you in my arms,” he whispered, voice breaking despite himself.
I pressed my face into his chest, right over his heart. It was pounding—fast and hard, like it had been running for miles just to get back to me.
