I straighten. The cold mask that my father instilled in me slips right back into place. I turn and walk away. Noah tries to reach out for me, but I shrug him off.
I can’t stay here.
6 DERANGED PYSCHO
My wrists ache. Pressure, burn, the numb throb of circulation being cut off. My eyes snap open.
Panic surges fast as I try to move.
My arms are stretched above my head, wrists bound to the headboard with a thick cord. My ankles are secured, too. Spread just enough to make escape impossible. The mattress dips beneath me as I shift, testing, and the cord bites deeper.
My breath stutters.
“Stop.” The voice is rough and slurred.
I freeze. Jace is sitting at the edge of my bed.
His jacket is gone, shirt half-untucked, a few buttons popped open, his tie undone and hanging around his neck. There’s a glass in his hand, amber liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. His knuckles are white where he grips it too tightly. He doesn’t look at me right away.
“I said stop,” he repeats, quieter this time. Broken.
My heart is trying to claw its way out of my chest.
“What the fuck?” My voice shakes despite my efforts to keep it steady. “Jace. Untie me.”
A humorless laugh leaves him. He tips the glass back, drains it, then setsit down on the nightstand. Like he’s afraid sudden movements might break something.
Or someone.
“I told them not to leave me alone,” he mutters. “Stupid of them.” He chuckles. “Gave me time to find the good shit. Lucian’s lock was child’s play. Not what you’d expect from the head of the Guild.”
My pulse roars in my ears. He finally looks at me.
“So, are you going to get me killed, too?” I glare at him.
His eyes are glassy. A swirl of anger and grief, with a touch of…guilt? All blurring together under a sheen of alcohol.
“No,” he shakes his head and blinks a few times. “I could never.”
“Then why thefuckam I tied to my bed?” I tug at the restraints again.
“Because I need you to listen.” He hisses as his stormy eyes bore into mine.
“Untie. Me.” I try kicking my feet.
He stands and paces, running his hand through his hair.
“You know I hate being drunk? I usually only have a glass to take the edge off, but today? Today, the edge just wouldn’t dull.”
“Jace…” I try to keep my voice calm, “Let me go, please.”
“I hate the feeling of not being in control.” He flexes his hands.
“Ravencourt.”
“You pushed me, Isobel, you keep pushing me away. Why do you do that?”
“Jace!”
