She stares at the water until the ripples settle, as if waiting for it to tell her what to say.
“In the Void… I was with Ethos.”
I can’t breathe.
Jace goes still, his eyes wide.
“I didn’t just—” She stops, her voice breaking. “He didn’t have to trick me, or maybe he did. I wanted it. I wantedhim.” Her breath hitches. “That’s the part I can’t forgive.”
Silence.
I stare at her, my chest tight, trying to process what she just said.
She wanted him.
Shechosehim.
And now she’s sitting here, vulnerable and raw, admitting the thing that’s been eating her alive.
Jace moves first, sliding forward and cupping her face in his hands. “Bree. Look at me.”
She does, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“You didn’t know,” he says softly. “You couldn’t have known. And whatever you felt—whatever he made you feel—that doesn’t change who you are. It doesn’t change how we feel about you.”
“He’s right.” My voice is rough, but steady. “You were manipulated. Just like we were. And if you can forgive us for not seeing through Riley, then we can damn well forgive you for not seeing through Ethos.”
She shakes her head, tears spilling over. “But Iwantedhim—”
“And we wanted Riley,” I interrupt. “We thought she was you, and we wanted her. Does that make it any less wrong? Any less painful?”
She stares at me, her breath hitching.
“We all fucked up,” Jace says quietly. “We all got played. But we’re here now. And we’re not going anywhere.”
Bree’s face crumples, and she leans forward, burying her face in Jace’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around her, holding her tight, andI press my forehead to the back of her neck, my hands steadying on her hips.
“We’ve got you,” I murmur. “Always.”
She cries.
We hold her.
And for the first time since she came back, it feels like maybe—maybe—we can put the pieces back together.
By the time the water starts to cool, Bree’s breathing has evened out, her tears spent, and I feel her forgiveness in my bones.
Jace and I help her out of the tub, wrapping her in a towel, drying her carefully before carrying her back to the bed.
She’s exhausted—physically, emotionally, completely wrung out.
I pull back the covers, and she slides in without protest. Jace tucks the blanket around her, his movements gentle, deliberate.
She looks up at us, her green eyes soft. “Stay?”
Jace climbs in beside her without hesitation, and I follow, flanking her on the other side.
She curls into Jace’s chest, and I press my hand to her back, grounding her.
