“You’re done for the day.” Jace’s voice is calm. But with that edge under it that means he’s not asking.
He offers me his hand, helping me up.
“I’m not done.”
“You are.” He says, stepping closer until I have to tilt my chin to meet his gaze. His black long sleeves pushed to the elbow, and there’s sweat dampening the hair at his temples from sparring.
“Don’t start with me, Jace.” I smooth the wraps around my hands and head around him to a bag, but he’s there in two strides, catching my arm.
“I’ve been letting you take the time you need. But I’m pushing back now.” His eyes are locked on mine.
“Letting me? Pushing back?” I blink at him and scoff. “You don’t know what I need. I don’t need anyone.”
I lift my chin.
“Well, too fucking bad, because now you've got me. You may not have chosen me, Isobel, but I’m all in. And I take care of what's mine. That means I'm not just going to stand on the sidelines and watch you tear yourself apart. Or worse, do something stupid that gets you killed.”
“You don’t understand?—”
“I do,” he steps closer until his chest brushes mine. “I understand losing someone and wanting blood for it. I understand wanting to be the one to end the bastard who took them from you. But I’m not letting you burn yourself out before we get there.”
Something in me flares, part rage, part hurt, part dangerous warmth that comes whenever he’s this close. “You think I can’t handle it?”
His mouth curves, but it’s not a smile. “I think you don’t have to handle italone.” His gaze drops briefly to my mouth, then back up, deep and unyielding. “So stop trying to push me away, Isobel. I’m not going anywhere.”
The words settle heavy in my chest, like an anchor and a challenge all at once. I swallow hard, trying to hold his gaze and failing when something inside me twists.
“You’re such an ass.”
“So are you,” he murmurs, releasing my arm but not stepping back, “but it means you’re still in there.”
His hand comes up, fingers warm against my jaw, thumb brushing slowly over my cheekbone. It’s not forceful, just there. His touch makes my chest loosen. Before I let it register, let it reach my heart in a way I’m not ready for yet, I knee him in the groin and he goes down. I look down over him and smile.
“Oh I’m still in here, Ravencourt, you probably shouldn’t forget it and let your guard down like that.” Even through the pain he smiles then coughs, hands braced against his own chest, trying to hold in the agony. Then he nods.
“Duly noted, Ashthorne.”
7 SALT & GARLAND
My heart is in my throat. My body jerks upright in the dark, breath sawing in and out like I just surfaced from deep water too fast.
I tap my phone, squinting at the brightness. It’s almost three a.m. I think about going back to sleep.
The sound of his body hitting the ground.
His cough.
The last breath leaving his lips.
I press my hand against my chest, rubbing my sternum like I can get rid of the pain that lingers.
I swing my legs over the side of my bed, the cold floor grounding me in the present. I pad over and grab Tex’s hoodie, pulling it over my head. The one he left here and never came back for. It still smells faintly like clean laundry and him.
Closing my eyes, I let my lungs fill with the lingering scent.
I can’t let it fade.
Grabbing my phone and shoving it in my pocket, I head out the door. The halls are empty, but I know where all the cameras are. I slink through the halls in the shadows.
