19. Chapter 19
Wren
A sharp knock at the door shatters the peaceful moment between us. I freeze instantly, my body tensing between Jace and Theo. The sound feels like an intrusion from another world—the real world—breaking into this bubble we've created.
I push myself up, scanning the floor for something to cover myself with. Theo grabs a plush robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and hands it to me. I slip it on, securing the belt tightly around my waist as another knock sounds.
"Wait," I sign to them, motioning for them to stay put.
They both nod, watching as I move toward the door. I pause with my hand on the knob, taking a deep breath to steady myself before opening it just enough to see who's there.
A young woman stands in the hallway, holding several bags. "Your clothes," she says. "Lorna thought you might want them."
I take the bags from her with a small nod. One is the bag I brought with me while I’m assuming the others belong to the guys.
"Thank you," I sign automatically, the movement as natural to me as breathing.
She nods, either understanding the sign or simply getting the general meaning. "No problem. Have a good night." Her smile turns slightly mischievous before she turns and walks away.
I nod again, grateful for Lorna's consideration, and close the door gently. When I turn around, both Jace and Theo are watching me with identical expressions of fascination.
"What?" I sign, suddenly self-conscious under their scrutiny.
"Nothing," Jace says, his eyes following my hands with rapt attention. "Just... you're so fluid when you sign. It's beautiful to watch."
Theo nods in agreement, but I notice his gaze isn't on my hands—it's on my face, specifically the flush I can feel spreading across my cheeks. "You're still turned on," he observes, his voice dropping lower. "Even after everything we just did."
I roll my eyes at him, but don't deny it. My body is still humming with residual pleasure, sensitive in ways I'd forgotten were possible.
I set the bags down on a nearby chair and open my own, finding my jeans and sweater. As I turn to change in the bathroom, Jace's voice stops me.
"We should take you home," he says quietly but firmly. "You shouldn't be going back alone, especially this late."
The protectiveness in his tone makes something warm unfurl in my chest.
"He's right," Theo adds, his tone lighter but with an unmistakable undercurrent of genuine concern. "Besides, I'm not ready to say goodnight yet. The night is young, and so are we... relatively speaking."
I pause, suddenly uncertain. Taking them back to my place, even the temporary place I have at the hotel, means inviting them fully into my life—not just the carefully constructed personas I've created, but the messy, complicated reality. Am I ready for that?
My hesitation must show on my face because they both sit up straighter, instantly alert. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, my hands halfway through signing a response before I stop, unsure what I even want to say.
"If this is too much, too fast, we get it," Jace says, his voice gentle. "We'll go slow."
"We can do slow," Theo agrees, then adds with a grin that doesn't quite hide his sincerity, "Reluctantly, but we can."
Their consideration touches me deeply. These men have seen me at my most vulnerable—physically and emotionally—and they're still here, still giving me space to decide what happens next.
"It's not that," I sign, my movements deliberate and slow so they can follow. "I do want you with me."
I pause, gathering my courage for what comes next.
Theo’s brow furrows, and I catch the slight hesitation in his eyes—the moment where he’s still piecing together the meaning.
He’s been trying, I know, but he’s only just learning.
Before the silence can stretch, Jace quietly murmurs the words I’ve signed, his voice low enough for only Theo to hear.
Theo’s gaze warms with understanding, and something unspoken passes between them—an easy, automatic agreement to bridge the gap together.
"We have a lot to talk about," I continue signing.
They exchange glances, then nod in unison.
"Whatever you want to tell us, we're ready to listen," Jace says, visible relief in his expression.
"Absolutely," Theo agrees. "I think we've established we're pretty good at working together."
I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "I've been staying at a hotel," I sign, watching their reactions carefully.
Theo's eyebrow shoots up in surprise, while Jace's forehead creases with concern.
"A hotel?" Jace repeats. "Why not your apartment?"
I shake my head slightly. "It's a long story," I sign. "I'd rather explain in private."
"Of course," Jace says immediately, already reaching for his clothes.
Theo follows suit, pulling on his jeans and shirt. "Hotel it is," he says, his usual playfulness tempered by what I think might be worry.
I duck into the bathroom to change, catching sight of myself in the mirror as I slip out of the robe.
My skin bears the faint marks of their attention—a slight redness where Theo's stubble scraped against my neck, the ghost of Jace's fingers on my hips.
The sight sends another pulse of heat through me, but it's quickly replaced by anxiety about what comes next.
When I return to the room, they're both dressed and waiting. There's an unspoken question hanging in the air between us, but neither pushes for answers yet. They're giving me space, letting me set the pace.
I appreciate it more than I can express.
We gather our things and leave the building, the three of us walking in companionable silence toward the exit.
As we walk, I feel the weight of the conversation to come settling on my shoulders.
I'm about to invite these men into the darkest corners of my life—share secrets I've kept buried for a long time with the exception of Maya.
I find myself walking between them, their solid presence on either side of me both comforting and overwhelming.
I'm not sure if I'm making the right decision bringing them deeper into my complicated life. But after tonight, after the masks have literally come off, I don't think I could bear to put them back on again. Not with Jace and Theo.
For better or worse, I've chosen to trust them. Now I just have to hope that trust isn't misplaced when they learn the whole truth about who I really am.
Outside, the night air is crisp against my skin. I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling the chill after the warmth of our bodies pressed together.
"Let me get us a cab," Jace says firmly, already pulling out his phone. "It's too late for you to be taking public transportation."
I start to protest—I've been managing on my own for months—but Theo shakes his head.
"For once, I'm with the Boy Scout here," he says, his hand finding the small of my back. "Let us take care of this one thing, okay?"
The gentleness in his tone disarms me. I nod, relenting.
Jace's fingers move quickly across his screen. "There. Car will be here in three minutes."
We wait in comfortable silence, standing close enough that our shoulders brush. The tension between us has shifted from sexual to something deeper, more intimate—the quiet anticipation of truths about to be revealed.
The cab arrives exactly when promised. Jace opens the door for me, his hand steady at my elbow as I slide in. They follow, one on either side, their warmth flanking me like protective walls.
Jace gives the driver the hotel address I provide, then settles back, his thigh pressed against mine. The casual touch shouldn't feel significant after what we just shared, but somehow it does—an anchor in reality after the fantasy of the studio.
Theo's hand finds mine in the darkness of the backseat, his fingers lacing through mine with surprising tenderness. I glance at him, catching the flash of his eyes in the passing streetlights. There's none of his usual cockiness there now, just quiet support.
The ride passes in silence. When we arrive, they follow me through the lobby to the elevator, their presence drawing curious glances from the night clerk. I can only imagine what we look like—three people with rumpled clothes and that unmistakable post-sex glow.
In my room, I flick on the lights and suddenly feel awkward. The space seems smaller with both of them in it, more intimate than Behind the Lens had been. This is my temporary sanctuary, my hiding place.
"Make yourselves comfortable," I sign, gesturing toward the small sitting area.
They settle on the couch while I perch on the edge of the bed facing them. For a moment, none of us speaks. I fidget with the hem of my sweater, gathering my courage.
"Do you want something to drink?" Jace asks, breaking the silence. "We could order room service."
I shake my head. If I don't start now, I might lose my nerve entirely.
I take a deep breath and raise my hands.
"I lived a normal life once," I sign, my fingers trembling as I slowly move them. Jace automatically starts translating like he was at Behind the Lens. "I even had a voice. But all of that changed just over eighteen months ago."
Their expressions grow serious, eyes fixed on my hands. Theo leans forward, elbows on his knees. Jace sits perfectly still, the way he does when he's focusing intently.
"What happened?" Theo asks softly when I pause.
I swallow hard, my hands trembling slightly as I form the next words.
"My brother happened."
They exchange confused glances.
"Your brother?" Jace repeats, his brow furrowing.
I nod, steeling myself for what comes next.
"My real name is Lilliana Cain," I sign, watching recognition dawn in their eyes. "Well, my birth name. I legally changed it to Wren Maddox after my brother tried to kill me."
The silence that follows is deafening. I see the moment it clicks for both of them—Cain. The name that had been splashed across every news outlet for weeks. The serial killer whose capture had triggered my panic attack at the café.
"Lucien Cain is your brother," Jace says, his voice barely above a whisper.
It's not a question, but I nod anyway, watching their expressions carefully for disgust or fear. Instead, I see shock, concern, and something that looks like protective anger flickering across their features.
"Jesus Christ," Theo breathes, running a hand through his hair. "The Reaper is your brother?"
I wince at the media nickname, but nod again.
"He wasn't always a monster," I sign, my hands moving faster now that the initial revelation is out. "At least, I didn't see it. We were close growing up. He was protective, caring even. But there were... signs. Things I should have noticed."
"This is why you don't speak," Jace says quietly, the pieces falling into place for him. "What did he do to you?"
I touch my throat instinctively, feeling the phantom pressure of hands closing around it.
"The truth is," I sign, my hands moving with nervous energy, "I don't actually remember what he did to me."
Their expressions shift from concern to confusion.
"The media was already everywhere by then," I continue signing. "The story about Lucien being the Reaper had gone viral the day before. They were camped outside our family home. They were shouting questions about Lucien. His face was all over the news.”
I pause, watching their faces closely. Neither of them looks away, which gives me the courage to continue.
"I remember pushing past them, ignoring their questions. I remember unlocking my door, stepping inside, and then... nothing. Just darkness."
Jace leans forward, his expression intense but gentle. "Nothing at all?"
I shake my head, frustration bubbling inside me. "My next memory is waking up in the hospital three days later. Tubes everywhere. Police officers outside my door. Reporters trying to sneak in dressed as orderlies."
"Three days?" Jace's voice is barely audible.
I nod, swallowing hard. "The doctors said I had severe bruising around my throat consistent with strangulation, but there was no permanent physical damage.”
Jace's expression darkens, his jaw tightening visibly. Theo curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair. The weight of their reactions settles over me—not judgment, but genuine horror at what happened.
“They told me my voice would come back eventually. That my memories would return too." My bitter smile feels foreign on my face. "They called it dissociative amnesia with selective mutism, triggered by extreme trauma. They said it happens sometimes when the mind can't process what happened."
"But your voice never came back," Theo says softly.
"Neither did the memories." I touch my throat again, feeling the phantom pressure.
"The police told me my mother found me unconscious inside the house. No signs of forced entry. They think he tried to kill me, left me there for dead. I have these... moments sometimes. Panic attacks where I feel hands around my throat again.”
Jace's face has gone completely still, the way it does when he's processing something deeply disturbing. Theo, usually so quick with words, seems at a loss.
"After I was released from the hospital," I continue signing, "the media found me.
They were relentless. 'Serial Killer's Sister Speaks Out.
' 'What Did She Know?' 'Was She An Accomplice?
'" My hands shake slightly with the memory.
"I couldn't even defend myself. Couldn't speak to tell them I knew nothing about what my brother had become. "
"That's why you changed your name," Jace says quietly. "Why you disappeared."
I nod, grateful he understands without me having to explain further.
"The pink hair?" Theo asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.
"Part of becoming someone new," I sign. "Someone who couldn't possibly be Lilliana Cain."
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the next part.
"I thought I was safe. I thought no one knew who I was anymore. But someone found me."