Jace nods slowly, grimacing. “Yeah. Punishment… and motivation. Punishment for not following his instructions. And… motivation because he promised me he’d kill you if I didn’t obey him.”
My heart hammers, and I feel a rush of fear, anger, everything at once. “He… he said he would kill me?”
“He did,” Jace admits, voice low. “That’s why I had to stay in line, Isobel. That’s why I did what I did… everything I did while I was with him. I couldn’t risk your life. I remember what you endured with Daniel, and you were already enduring so much.”
I take a shaky breath, the scars, trying to absorb it all. The pink jagged lines aren’t just flesh—they’re a reminder of the cruelty we survived. And the weight of it, the knowledge of what Gideon would’ve done to me if Jace had failed… it makes my chest tighten.
“I… I didn’t know,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says softly. “I never wanted you to. I just wanted you to be safe. He kept you alive because I fell in line, and he could still use you. But if I didn’t follow, he wouldn’t have hesitated to take you out of the equation completely.”
My mind reels at the thought of him, Jace, enduring this all to keep me safe. My chest aches at the weight of it.
“You… you went through that… for me?” I whisper, disbelief and pain tangled together.
Jace’s head bows slightly. “I’d do it again if it meant keeping you alive. I can’t… I can’t imagine a world without you in it. I know you still got hurt, but I know what my father is capable of. You mean more to me than anything. Even if you don’t see it, even if you hate me for how it looked, I was always trying to protect you.”
I feel tears prick my eyes, hot and bitter. “I… I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. “Just… know why. Know that none of it was easy for me. None of it was without pain.”
I swallow hard, staring down at the jagged lines, the angry pink of fresh healing. They’re more than scars—they’re proof of a hell he survived so I could live. And yet, part of me wants to pull away, to lash out, because the weight of betrayal—his secrecy, the things I didn’t know, the way he made me feel—still sits like an obstruction between us.
“I… I wish I’d known,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I wish you’d told me everything.”
“I know,” he says softly. “I wanted to. I wanted you to be safe more than anything. Sometimes… sometimes that means I have to carry the load because I saw how much you were already carrying.”
I look up at him, my chest tight, my mind spinning with anger, relief, fear, and something else I can’t name. My fingers curl into the sheets as I struggle to breathe evenly. “You… you can’t expect me to forgive you just because… just because of all of this,” I say.
“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” he says quietly, voice rough. “I’m asking for understanding. That I did it for you.”
I exhale shakily, letting my gaze drop back to his scarred back. Every jagged line is a testament, a brutal reminder of what he endured. But also, I realize, a reminder that he’d do it again. And that thought… unsettles me in ways I can’t name.
“Jace...” my voice is shaky, “Can I see them again?”
He stiffens, silent for a long moment. I can hear him breathing, but he doesn’t answer right away. Finally, his voice comes, low and tight. “If you want… but it’s hard to look at.”
I take a deep breath, scooting a little closer. “I need to see them. I need to see them to understand what you went through… for me.”
There’s a pause, the tension is palpable. Slowly, hesitantly, he turns just enough for me to glimpse the jagged, pink scars crisscrossing his back. My fingers tremble as I reach out, grazing the rough lines. Each one tells a story, a pain he’s endured alone.
I touch one, and he tenses. I lightly trace the scars.
“I didn’t want you to see this.”
“How did you think you were going to hide these from me if I had forgiven you?”
“Honestly, I didn’t think you would. But a part of me really wanted you to. The selfish part of me wants you all to myself, even if I’m not the best thing for you...” The sheer honesty from him throws me off balance.
“I’m still going to fight for you.” His voice steadies, gaining that iron-clad resolve, “I love you, Isobel. I know I hurt you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you let me.”
My hand drifts away from his back as his words settle heavy in my chest.
“Thank you, Jace.” I manage.
He turns to face me. For a moment, I forget how to breathe. His hand rises, cupping my cheek with a tenderness that feels both familiar and foreign.
“You never have to thank me. If anything… it was penance for what you had to endure.”
