Chapter 24 WREN
WREN
Silence. His eyes don’t leave mine.
“Wren. Sit down.”
“No.”
“Wren—”
“What is going on?”
Something shifts in Jace’s face.
Behind him, Ryker moves immediately. Out of my bedroom. Down the hall. A second later the apartment door closes.
Then it’s just us.
Jace’s hand is at his side with the bag in it, and he is looking at me like he’s trying to figure out how much truth I can survive at once.
“Jace.”
He doesn’t move.
“Show me.”
He lifts the bag.
There’s a photograph inside it. Glossy. Color. The angle is wrong before I understand what I’m looking at—and then I understand. It’s me. It’s us. Coming out of my building this morning.
“Where did you find it?”
“On your pillow.”
I look at my bed. The sheets are still pushed back from this morning. Jace had me there hours ago. Tyler stood over it.
“He was in here?”
“Yes.”
“How did he get in?”
“Picked the lock. We’re changing it today.” His eyes don’t leave me. “The sensor pinged this morning. The hallway camera caught him going up and coming down ninety seconds later. Ryker pulled the footage the second it flagged.”
I knew about the sensor. I knew about the camera. I agreed to all of it. It was supposed to make me feel safer.
It did, until ninety seconds of footage made it real.
“He was standing right here.”
“Yes.”
I find my hand on the dresser, and I am looking at the photograph of myself in the bag, and the cold drops all the way into my stomach.
A hooded figure in my bedroom doorway while I was at the shop telling Sasha about the bride’s mother. Right here, where I slept last night and finally wasn’t afraid.
“Wren.” Jace takes a step toward me. “You need to sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re white.”
“I’m—”
My voice cracks on the word as my throat closes, and I am looking at a photograph of myself, and the floor of my apartment is doing something I don’t like.
I sit down on the edge of the bed and put my face in my hands.
I am not crying. I am trying not to. My eyes are burning and my throat is closed and my whole body is shaking, and I’ve been telling myself for five weeks that I was fine, and I’m suddenly so tired of saying it.
“Wren.”
He drops to one knee in front of me.
“Hey. Look at me.”
I lift my face out of my hands.
His green eyes are right there.
“He’s not getting near you again. I need you to hear me say it.”
“He was right here, Jace.” My voice goes. “Standing where you’re kneeling. I sleep here. I get dressed here. He was in this room, and I was a few blocks away talking about fabric swatches.”
“I know.”
“I did everything right. The cameras, the sensor, all of it. I let you put a man on my corner. And he still got in here.”
His jaw goes tight.
“He picked a lock. That’s the last thing he gets past. I promise you that.”
I’m shaking. He can see it.
He lifts a hand and puts it on the side of my face. Gentle. His thumb moves along my jaw once. He doesn’t say anything.
I close my eyes and lean my forehead against his.
His other hand comes up to the back of my neck. His palm is warm. He doesn’t move. His breathing is even. Mine starts to match it without my deciding.
Then he stands and pulls me up with him into his chest. One hand cradles the back of my head, fingers in my hair. The other locks around my waist.
I breathe him in.
Then he speaks.
“You’re staying with me.”
“Jace.”
“You’re staying with me, Wren.”
I pull back enough to look at him. “I can stay with Sasha. She’s got a couch. I’ll be off your hands and—”
“No.”
“It’s a few nights. I’m not going to—”
“Wren.” His hands don’t loosen. “Sasha lives twenty minutes from here over a bar with a street-door buzzer anyone can push. I’m not putting you somewhere I can’t keep you safe.”
“So I’m just supposed to move in with you.”
“Yes.”
He lets that land.
“He picked your lock and he stood over your bed and he left a photograph of you on your pillow. He is going to come back. I’m not asking you.
I’m telling you what I’m doing. I’m taking you out of this apartment today and you’re staying with me until I say otherwise, and you can fight me on every other thing in your life but you are not fighting me on this. ”
I look at him.
I think about the version of myself who walked into this apartment for a binder.
The photograph on the dresser. The man holding me right now is the only thing in this room I’m not afraid of.
I think about saying no.
“Okay.”
His eyes close briefly. Just long enough for me to see the relief hit him.
“Okay,” he says quietly.
I swallow. “I need to pack a bag.”
“Pack a bag. I’ll wait.”