“Baby…”
My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt without me noticing. “How do they know it’s her? How do they—”
“DNA testing. It’s her, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t know what that is,” I cried, becoming frustrated at my limited vocabulary.
His eyes softened in a way that almost hurt to see. “It’s a test they can use to identify people from their fluids or hair or—I’m not sure how to explain it in a way that makes sense to you, but it’s accurate, sweetheart. It’s her.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “Then why—why would Father… I thought it was my fault. Daddy, I—”
Jace surged forward, arms coming around me before the thought could finish forming. He pulled me against his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head, pressing my face into the warmth of him.
“Did he tell you that? That she died because of you?” he asked, voice vibrating through me.
I nodded just barely. It was enough.
“I should’ve killed him while I had the chance,” he growled.
Jace’s arms tightened, possessive and protective, like he could physically hold the past away from me if he tried hard enough.
I pulled back just enough to look at Jace. His expression had changed—still gentle with me, but beneath it something had surfaced, something cold and dangerous.
“You knew,” I said softly. “Didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Howlong?”
“I started to suspect it when we were still at the compound,” he admitted. “I found her birth certificate while searching one of the buildings. I just had a feeling, so I asked Patel to do some research. He found out that her parents had reported her missing, and there was never any death under her name reported to the state. It wasn’t until recently that I found out the autopsy results. I knew I had to tell you, I just didn’t know how.”
His thumb brushed under my eye, catching the wetness there before I even realized tears had started to fall.
I laughed.
The sound ripped out of me, sudden and wrong, like something breaking instead of releasing. It startled me—this ugly, breathless bark of laughter that didn’t belong in my chest. Jace stiffened immediately, arms tightening, like he thought I’d finally lost it.
Maybe I had.
“I’m sorry,” I said, still laughing, because apparently my mouth had stopped listening to my brain. “I just—” Another laugh cut off halfway through, collapsing into a sob so guttural it knocked the air from my lungs. My face crumpled before I could stop it, the sound tearing out of my throat like it had been waiting its turn.
Jace made a distraught sound and pulled me closer, one hand pressing between my shoulder blades, the other still cradling my head. He didn’t shush me or tell me to breathe. He just held me.
“I keep thinking,” I choked, words tripping over each other, “that I finally understand my life. That I finally know what happened. And then—then something else cracks open, and there’s more underneath.” I sucked in a shaky breath thatburned all the way down. “It’s like—like a floor falling out from under another floor. There’s never any ground.” My hands fisted in his shirt, knuckles aching. “Every time I think I’ve reached the truth, it turns out it was just another lie.”
“My whole life,” I whispered hoarsely. “Everything I believed. Mother. The Light. Father. Me.” I let out another broken laugh that dissolved into tears again. “It was all built on a story he made up.”
“I don’t know who I am,” I admitted, the words finally slowing, heavy and scared. “If Mother didn’t die because of me… if he lied aboutthat… then what else did he decide for me? What parts of me aren’t even mine?” I pressed my face harder into his chest, voice muffled. “It feels like my life was written by someone else, and I was just… acting it out. I’m so tired of it, Jace. I’m so tired.”
His hand slid up and down my back, steady and grounding. When he spoke, his voice was low and controlled. “I know, baby. I know you’re tired.”
Jace pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands firm on my arms, forcing me to meet his eyes. They burned with certainty.
“You don’t have to know who you are yet. But I can tell you the parts that I see. You’re so strong, but so soft. So in love with the simple things. You appreciate the things that no one ever thinks to appreciate. You’re resilient, like a dandelion growing through a crack in concrete. You can bloom no matter where you are or what chaos is happening around you. You may not have discovered all of yourself yet, but we have time. We have all the time in the world, cherub. And no matter what you find, I’ll be there.”
Another sob tore free, quieter this time.
“Even if it’s ugly? Dandelions are weeds, you know.” I hiccuped through the tears, smiling shakily up at him.
