Jace leaned into my touch as I rested my palm along his jaw.
The shift was subtle, but it stole the breath from my lungs anyway—the way his weight followed my hand, the way his eyes softened for me without ever losing their sharpness. He was still alert, still coiled tight beneath the surface like a guard dog that hadn’t been dismissed. His shoulders were tense, his spine straight even on his knees, like he was ready to spring up at the slightest threat.
But he stayed there.
For me.
It struck me all at once, not like a revelation but like a puzzle piece finally settling into place. This dangerous man was kneeling in front of me, letting my fingers map the planes of his face like they were the only instructions that mattered.
His jaw clenched under my palm, not pulling away, not resisting. If anything, he leaned closer, his hands tightening slightly on my thighs as if to ground himself. His eyes never left my face, dark and intent, tracking every flicker of thought like I was the most important thing in the room.
And I think I truly was to him.
“I’d do anything for you, El. Just tell me what you need.”
I believed him when he said he’d do anything for me. I knew he wasn’t just talking about comforting me or feeding medinner. No. He was talking about things that shouldn’t be said out loud.
He was choosing me. Over and over. Choosing restraint when every instinct in him wanted to tear outward. Choosing to kneel instead of stand. Choosing to wait instead of act.
If I wanted him to ruin his own life, he would.
I’d never had that kind of power before.
My thumb brushed along his cheekbone, and I felt the faint hitch in his breath.
My throat tightened, not with panic, but with something like awe.
Then my mind suddenly reminded me of the last headline I’d read.
“Did they dig Mother up?”
Jace didn’t answer right away.
His hands were warm through the fabric of my pants, but the pressure changed—firmer now, like he was bracing himself. His jaw worked once, twice. When he finally looked away, it wasn’t guilt exactly. It was calculation. Fear of saying the wrong thing. Fear of saying the right one.
“Tell me the truth,” I said quietly.
His eyes snapped back to mine.
“I always do,” he said, too fast.
I tilted my head just a fraction. “No,” I murmured. “You don’t.” His mouth opened, about to interrupt. “It’s okay, I just… I need to know the truth now. I need to know what you haven’t been telling me.”
Silence stretched.
Jace exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled, like he was forcing himself not to bolt. His voice came out rougher when he finally spoke, scraped raw around the edges.
“Yes, they exhumed the graves,” he said.
I waited.
“They dug them up,” he clarified, quieter now. “All of them.”
My fingers went numb where they rested on his face. “All of who?”
He swallowed. “The people who died on the compound.”
I shook my head, confused. “Only my mother died there…”
