My entire body goes still.
That’s not sleep.
My hand moves before I can stop it, pushing the door open just enough to see inside.
And I freeze.
Jace. Bree.
Tangled together on the bed, her body arched beneath his, silver mist curling around them like a living thing.
For half a second, my brain doesn’t process it.
Then it does. It hits me—it’s not Riley at all. It’s Bree.
And every muscle in my body locks.
Not again.
The memory crashes into me—sharp and suffocating.
Riley’s voice.“You’re going to watch.”
The way she moved. The way she looked at me while she touched Jace, daring me to react.
The hollow, sick feeling of being forced to witness something that should’ve been private. Sacred.
My hands curl into fists, heat sparking along my veins.
I should leave.
I need to leave.
But I can’t move.
Because—
Because something’s different.
Jace shifts, and I catch a glimpse of her face.
Her eyes are closed, lips parted, one hand fisted in Jace’s hair. Her body moves with his—fluid and desperate and real.
And then I see them.
The scars.
Silver lines tracing across her ribs. Her hip. The curve of her breast.
Riley didn’t have those.
Riley’s skin was smooth. Perfect. Wrong.
But Bree—
God, Bree is covered in them.
Evidence of everything she’s survived. Every wound she’s carried. Every battle she’s fought just to be here.
