Page 67 of Relapse

I hoped he could see that. Through my eyes as I glared from a few steps below. I hoped he understood the finality of my words.

Silas’s eyes broke their connection with mine and drifted just above my head. His features went rigid, and I could have sworn the blood fell from his face, causing a paleness that drained the heat from our fight moments before.

I turned back to the front door, ready to leave, when I realized what Silas was looking at.

A bewildered Jace Thorne stood no more than three feet away from me, positioned at the bottom of the stairs. Blocking me in.

Fuck.

I could hear Silas take a step forward behind me and Jace’s hand shot up into the air, a firm signal that Silas obeyed without even hearing the command. He didn’t take another step forward, but I could hear his rapid intake of breath from just a few steps up.

“You’re far from home, little Hansen.” Jace finally spoke, and his voice filled the silence around us, with a low hum of warning. He casually unbuttoned his suit, taking time to shrug off the jacket cover before tossing it to the side.

I watched as he unbuttoned his cuff links, shaking loose his wrists one by one. “Why are you here, in my house?”

For a minute, I couldn’t muster the courage to speak. I had to train my mouth to work again.

“I’m… sorry.” The words stumbled out of me. I knew exactly what this looked like. Silas and I, half-dressed, hair still wet from the shower we shared. Not what it looked like, my mind corrected instantly—what it was.

My gaze dropped to the side before I could stop it. I never looked away. Not from anyone. Especially not from someone I considered an adversary. But Jace wasn’t just anyone. He was older than me. Sharper. The one Thorne my mother and brother had always warned me never to cross.

My mother’s voice echoed in my head: Don’t provoke him. Don’t even speak to him if you can help it.

Truthfully, Jace Thorne made entire police divisions look like amateurs without breaking a sweat. Like it was all a big game. With his presence, his money, his name—he always won. He had lawyers who could twist a murder charge into self-defense and walk away smiling.

He could probably kill me here too, if he wanted.

He’d probably call it justice.

The firm presence behind me, though, told me that he wouldn’t dare. Silas didn’t have to say anything, but his body language spoke volumes. I knew he would protect me despite our altercation. A lump formed in my throat at the thought of that. The irony of it.

Silas’s protection was only slightly comforting, though. It didn’t stop the churning in my stomach or the fast drumming of my heart. Still, what did I even know about the Thorne’s? Silas had tried to kill my father. He already killed a man prior to that.

And Jace…

Jace took a slow, deliberate step up the stairs, the wood creaking softly under his shoes. I could see the perfect crease in his dress pants, feel the heat from his body closer than Silas even was. He stopped on the stair just beneath me. My breath caught.

How many men had he killed?

“Look at me, brat.”

My temper rose faster than my widening eyes. Every instinct in my body screamed, don’t. But something within me—pride, fear, hell, maybe both—forced me to obey. I couldn’t resist the challenge. I met his gaze head on, noticing instantly how different his eyes were from Silas’s. Jace’s were colder. They were the kind of gray that swallowed the light, no flicker of question or mercy, just stillness. They reminded me of David’s eyes. Eyes so dark you couldn’t see where the pupil ended. Eyes that absorbed everything. The kind that didn’t let you go.

And in that moment, I realized—I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what he saw when he looked back at me.

“I said, I was sorry,” I repeated, wishing the words had come out more menacing. I sounded soft. Weak.

Scared.

Probably, because I was. Jace made me feel small. The difference being that I didn’t think Jace gave a single fuck if I lived or died. And that was a first. Experiencing a rush of peak adrenaline, knowing that my life was significantly in danger. More so than it had ever been. As someone who surrounded myself with danger, this felt different.

This was permanent.

“I’m going to ask you again,” Jace repeated, unblinking. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to boast about fucking his son. Nephew. Whatever the hell they were to each other. It was taking a lot out of me to keep that resilience in check, and something told me that Jace knew. He wasn’t an idiot. And I was not in any mood to play games.

My chaotic side won and I refused to filter myself.