Chapter 19 Jace
Chapter Nineteen: Jace
The call comes three days after Elliot tells me he loves me.
I'm in the kitchen, making coffee, watching the snow fall through the window.
Elliot is still asleep, curled in the bed we've barely left except for food and necessities.
The bruises on his wrists are fading to yellow.
The shadows under his eyes are less pronounced.
He's healing, slowly, in ways both visible and invisible.
Even his body is slowly filling out and gaining color.
My phone vibrates on the counter. Encrypted channel. Jagger's.
"Report," I answer.
"Good news for once." His voice is tired but lighter than I've heard it in weeks. "The tribunal ruled. Preliminary verdict came down this morning."
"And?"
"Webb's been stripped of his directorship. Pending full investigation, he's under house arrest. Assets frozen. Network being dismantled piece by piece." A pause. "It's not over, but it's a start."
Something in my chest loosens. Not relief exactly—I don't trust relief. But something close.
"What about the files? Moore's archive?"
"That's the other reason I'm calling." I hear him shift, papers rustling in the background. "Jinx and I retrieved the documents three days ago. There's a lot here, Jace. Years of documentation. Coded entries, financial records, names I recognize and names I don't."
"Protocol Omega?"
"References. Enough to know it's real, it's big, and it's connected to at least four Custodian houses." He pauses. "Including ours. And Westpoint Academy. It’s got everything… including blueprints for a new facility."
I absorb this. File it alongside everything else I've learned about the organization that shaped me.
"What's the next step?"
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about.
" Jagger's tone shifts, becomes more cautious.
"This investigation is going to take months.
Maybe longer. The encryption on some of these files is decades old.
The financial trails lead through shell companies on three continents.
And there are people involved who will kill to keep this buried. "
"You're telling me to stay out of it."
"I'm telling you that you've done enough." His voice softens, just slightly. "You got Elliot out. You exposed Webb. You started something that's going to change everything. But the next phase isn't your fight."
"Whose fight is it?"
"Mine. And Jinx's." A dry laugh. "Turns out all those years of playing the loyal Ministry soldier gave me access to things I never thought I'd use. Contacts, clearances, information pipelines. I can move in spaces you can't without drawing attention."
I think about what he's saying. About the implications.
"You're going undercover."
"I'm going to finish what you started. Find out what Protocol Omega really was. Who was involved. Why our father died." His voice hardens. "And I'm going to make sure the people responsible pay for it."
"That's dangerous."
"So is everything we do." I hear him exhale. "Look, I'm not asking for permission. I'm telling you because you deserve to know. And because I need you to do something for me."
"What?"
"Stay hidden. Stay safe. Take care of Elliot and let us handle the rest." A pause. "You've been fighting since you were eight years old. You've earned a break."
The words hit me harder than I expect. I don't know how to process them. The idea that I could stop, even temporarily. That I could choose rest over action.
Behind me, I hear Elliot's footsteps on the hardwood. He appears in the kitchen doorway, sleep-rumpled and soft, wearing one of my shirts with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
"Who's that?" he asks quietly.
"Jagger. Give me a minute."
He nods, moves to the coffee pot, starts pouring himself a cup. Normal. Domestic. The kind of morning I never imagined having and want a thousand more of.
"There's something else," Jagger says. "Briar's been digging too. He found patterns in the data—connections between Protocol Omega and our father's death. It happened after he started asking questions about the project."
"Webb."
"Probably. We don't have proof yet. But we will." His voice is certain. "I'm going to find out what really happened, Jace. To our father. To all the people they used and discarded. And then I'm going to destroy it."
"Just be careful."
"Always." A pause. "I'll check in when I can. Encrypted channels only. And Jace?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you found him. Elliot, I mean." His voice is uncharacteristically gentle. "You deserve something good. Don't let it go."
The line goes dead.
I stand in the kitchen, phone in hand, processing everything he said.
Elliot appears at my side, coffee cup in hand. "Everything okay?"
"Webb's been stripped of his directorship. House arrest. Assets frozen."
His breath catches. "Really?"
"Really. It's not over, but it's a start."
He sets down his cup and wraps his arms around me, pressing his face into my chest. I hold him, feel the tension slowly drain from his body.
"What about the files?" he asks, muffled against my shirt. "Moore's archive?"
"Jagger and Jinx retrieved them. They're handling the investigation from here."
He pulls back, looks up at me with a frown. "And you're okay with that?"
"I don't know." The honest answer. "But he's right. The next phase isn't my fight. It's his. And I think..." I pause, searching for words. "I think I need to let him have it."
"Because you trust him?"
"Because I'm tired." The admission surprises me. I didn't know I was going to say it until the words were out. "I've been fighting for as long as I can remember. I don't know how to stop. But maybe I need to learn."
Elliot studies my face for a long moment. Then he smiles, soft and understanding.
"We can learn together," he says. "That's what partners do."
Later that morning, Briar calls.
We gather in the living room—me, Elliot, and the laptop screen showing Briar and Landon in their new cabin. The connection is secure, the encryption military-grade.
"You heard about the tribunal?" Briar asks.
"Jagger called this morning."
"Good. Then you know we're entering a new phase." Briar leans back in his chair, Landon visible just behind his shoulder. "The immediate threat is contained. Webb's not going anywhere. But the larger investigation is going to take time."
"Jagger said months."
"At minimum. Protocol Omega has roots that go back decades. Untangling it means going through thousands of documents, following financial trails, interviewing people who've kept secrets their whole lives." Briar's expression is grim. "It's not a sprint. It's a marathon."
"And you think I should sit it out."
"I think you should take the win." Briar's voice softens. "You did something impossible, Jace. You went against everything you were trained to be, saved someone the system wanted to destroy, and exposed one of the most powerful men in The Silent. That matters. But it also took a toll."
I glance at Elliot. He's watching me with quiet attention, waiting to follow my lead.
"What are you suggesting?"
"Stay at the cottage as long as you need. They won’t come for you, not yet anyway, with this shit show.
Rest. Heal. Let Elliot recover properly instead of dragging him back into danger.
" Briar pauses. "Landon and I are relocating to a new safehouse next week.
We'll be running support for Jagger's investigation, but from a distance.
You don't need to be involved in the day-to-day. "
"And if something happens? If Webb finds a way to retaliate?"
"Then we'll deal with it. But right now, the best thing you can do is stay off the radar and let the heat die down." Briar's mouth quirks. "Consider it a tactical retreat. You're not abandoning the fight. You're conserving resources for the next battle."
I think about his words. About Jagger's words. About the weight I've been carrying for so long I forgot it was there.
"Okay," I say finally. "We'll stay. For now."
Elliot's hand finds mine.
"Good." Briar nods. "I'll send updates when there's news. And Jace?"
"Yeah?"
"Try to enjoy it. The quiet, I mean. It won't last forever." His smile is wry. "It never does."
The call ends.
I sit in the silence, Elliot warm beside me, and try to imagine what enjoying the quiet might look like.
That night, we make dinner together.
It's nothing complicated—pasta with a sauce we improvise from whatever's in the cupboard. Elliot handles the chaos, tasting as we go, adding more garlic than the recipe calls for. I handle the technical parts, measuring and timing with the precision I bring to everything.
"You know," Elliot says, leaning against the counter, "this is the first time I've cooked for fun since I was a kid. My mom used to let me help with Sunday dinners."
"What did you make?"
"Whatever she felt like. Pot roast, sometimes. Chicken and dumplings if it was cold." His smile is soft, distant. "She always let me stir the gravy. Said I had the right wrist motion."
"Do you miss her?"
"Every day." He's quiet for a moment. "But it doesn't hurt the same way it used to. Now it's more like... remembering a song you loved. Bittersweet instead of just bitter."
I don't know what to say to that. My own memories of before the Foundry are fragmented, unreliable. But I understand what he means about the quality of grief changing over time.
"I'm glad you have those memories," I say finally. "Even if they hurt."
"Me too." He looks at me, and there's something vulnerable in his expression. "I want to make new ones. Good ones. With you."
"We're making one right now."
"I know." He smiles. "That's why I mentioned it."
We eat at the small table by the window, watching the stars come out over the mountains. The pasta is good, better than anything I made during my years of eating for function rather than pleasure.
"Jace?"
"Mm?"
"Do you think they'll find it? Whatever Protocol Omega really is?"
I consider the question. "Jagger doesn't give up. Neither does Jinx. And Briar has resources we're only beginning to understand."
"But do you think they'll find the truth?"
"I think the truth has been buried for twenty-three years, and it's ready to come out.
" I set down my fork, meet his eyes. "Whatever's in those files, whatever my father died for, whatever they did to create the Foundry and the auction system and all the rest—it's going to come to light. And when it does, everything changes."
"Are you scared?"
"Of what they might find?" I think about it. "No. I'm scared of what happens if they don't find it. If Webb's allies manage to bury it again. If the system survives and keeps doing what it's always done."
"Then we make sure that doesn't happen." Elliot reaches across the table, takes my hand. "Even if we're not on the front lines. Even if we're just... being here. Surviving. Proving that they couldn't break us."
"Is that enough?"
"It's a start." He squeezes my fingers. "And it's more than we had a month ago."
He's right. A month ago, he was strapped to a table with a collar around his neck.
A month ago, I was calculating whether to kill him or keep him.
A month ago, neither of us imagined we'd be here, in a cottage in the mountains, eating pasta and talking about the future like it was something we might actually get to have.
"I love you," I say.
"I love you too." He smiles. "Now help me with the dishes."
After the dishes are done and the fire is banked and we're lying in bed with moonlight streaming through the curtains, Elliot asks me a question.
"What do you want? If you could have anything. If the war was over and we were free. What would you want?"
I think about it. Really think, in a way I haven't allowed myself to before.
"This," I say finally. "Quiet mornings. Shared meals. Someone to come home to." I turn my head to look at him. "You. I'd want you."
"You already have me."
"I know." I reach out, trace the line of his jaw with my fingers. "It’s just… I finally have something I actually want. Not a mission. Not an objective. Something that matters because I chose it, not because I was ordered to pursue it."
"That sounds like freedom."
"Maybe it is." I pull him closer, tuck him against my chest. "I'm still learning what the word means."
“You’re doing just fine,” he says. "Like I said… a fast learner."
A chuckle rumbles through my chest and we fall silent.
Just watching the fire crackle. The snow fall.
So this is peace.