30 Scars
Ijolt upright in bed, sweat plastering my hair to my neck and my shirt to my back. My breathing comes out in ragged breaths. I place a hand to my chest, willing my pulse to slow.
The nightmares still come, though less and less often. The images used to stick with me, but the therapy has been helping.
I hop in the shower, washing the remnants of the nightmare down the drain. I bundle myself up and head downstairs to grab a snack to have with some tea.
“NO!” The voice stops me in my tracks.
I look back at the door.
“STOP IT!” Jace’s voice is filled with agony.
I run to his door, pushing it open, prepared to tackle whoever is hurting him.
Jace is thrashing in the bed, sheets tangled around his legs, fists clenched. His chest is rapidly rising and falling like he can’t get enough air.
“No, stop, don’t,” he begs, his face twisted in pain.
I walk over to the side of the bed, clicking on the lamp then putting my hand on his shoulder. He flinches under my touch, a strangled sound leaving his throat.
“Hey, hey, sh, it’s okay,” I whisper. “You’re having a nightmare.”
His eyes fly open, wild and unfocused, his eyes bouncing around the room like they can’t find anything to focus on.
“It’s just me,” I say in a hushed tone.
His eyes finally find mine and his body relaxes, his fist unclenching the sheets. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair and sighs.
“Are you okay?” My eyes run over his body.
Every muscle is wound so tight, the tension stays even though he’s awake. Sweat glistens on his chest and his joggers rest low on his hips.
“Yeah,” he breathes.
“Okay.” I turn to leave, and his hand reaches out, grabbing mine. It’s cold and clammy.
“No, wait,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, I’m not.”
I stand there for a moment, debating whether to just walk out because his instinct was to lie to me again, or stay to see if he’ll tell me the truth.
“That must’ve been one hell of a nightmare,” I say, sitting slowly onto the bed. His hand keeps hold of mine, like I’m tethering him to Earth.
He nods, sitting up in bed. “What are you doing up?”
“Had nightmares of my own. Was going downstairs for a snack.”
In the soft golden light, the shadows of his face look deeper, the dark circles more prominent under his eyes. I haven’t let myself look at him this long.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is hoarse; he tries to clear his throat but doesn’t succeed. “One sec.” He reaches over to the other nightstand, where a bottle of water rests.
I gasp.
Pink, jagged lines run along Jace’s back like frozen bolts of lightning.
Some are thin, delicate scratches, while others are deeper, raised ribbons of healed flesh that ripple when he shifts.
The scars stretch from the base of his neck down to his shoulders, spreading out like a chaotic tapestry.
A few lines curve in unexpected angles, reminders of moments I can’t even imagine.
The light catches on the pale pink and silvery edges, making them glint faintly.
I swallow, words caught in my throat. “Jace…” I reach out and touch his back lightly.
He jumps, turning away as he swipes the bottle up. “Don’t.” He grinds his teeth, “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“What?” I breathe out. “What happened? Who did that to you?” My voice increases in volume as the anger takes hold.
He hesitates, swallowing hard. His voice is broken. “It’s…It’s from Gideon.”
“Gideon?” I feel like a parrot, but I can’t seem to find any other words.
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.”
My throat tightens, his thumb brushing my cheekbone, slow and loving.
In that moment—close enough to feel his breath on my lips, close enough to remember everything we used to be— I realize how dangerous this is.
Because part of me wants to lean in. But the other part is not ready to open myself up to the possibility of being hurt by him again.
“I still think if we make him think there's something he can't afford to ignore, he'll go for it,” Noah says.
“We'd have to make it really good, because he'll see right through any half-assed attempt,” Jace points out.
“What's something we think he can't resist?” Luca asks
The room is silent as our minds seem to collectively think.
“He's desperate,” Jace starts, “We've cut off all his resources… but if I know my father, his plans have plans. We need to make sure whatever we do is foolproof. “
“Do you think he'll be desperate for money?” Noah asks.
Jace stares off in thought, “No, I mean yes, but no. I think he'll be chasing some sort of power. He doesn't think anyone is worth anything unless they have power. We've stripped away a lot, so he'll be looking to replace it.
Silence falls between us all as we think again.
“We can use me as bait? I'm sure he's furious about me.” I throw out the idea again.
“No,” the guys say in unison.
“How can you even keep suggesting that?” Luca looks exasperated.
“Because I trust you guys to keep me safe.” I look at Luca and Noah, well at least some of them, but I will not start that fight again.
Jace and I seem to be in a place of quiet understanding. Since that night in his bedroom a week ago, we've been in a polite orbit.
He doesn't push. I don't give. We're just working together towards a common goal.
“I've been thinking maybe we could use an actual prototype.” Noah taps on his tablet, pulling up schematics for the prototype.