The trees blurred past in a gray-green smear, but Jace barely saw them. The truck rumbled steady beneath them, tires carving through forest roads, but the cabin’s silence was heavy; thicker than the woods, tighter than the space between his shoulder and hers.
Mira sat next to him, arms crossed, her face turned toward the window. She hadn’t said a word since the kiss. Not to Rhett. Not to Jace. Not even to herself, from what he could feel through the bond. Her emotions crackled, confused, charged, and defensive. She was holding them in like steam under pressure. It would break her eventually. It always did. Jace didn’t blame her. He wasn’t even sure he could put into words what had shifted during the mission between them, among them, but something had. He’d felt it the second Rhett pressed his mouth to hers,fierce and raw. He hadn’t been close enough to hear their words, but the emotions had flooded through the bond like a lightning strike to the chest. Rhett’s need had been startling—not just lust or instinct, but something deeper. Desperate. Like the part of him that fought everything else in the world had finally yielded to something it couldn’t win against. Mira hadn’t pushed him away. She’d let herself be wanted. Jace understood, even if it hurt a little because he hadn’t kissed her. He hadn’t been the one to break through her walls or set fire to whatever fragile distance they were all pretending still existed. But it made sense. He turned his head slightly. Mira was still watching the trees. Her profile was tense; brows pinched, mouth neutral, but not relaxed. She felt him watching. After a beat, she turned to meet his eyes. Her voice was quiet. “You’re not going to ask me about it?” “No,” Jace said. “You don’t owe me that.” She blinked. Caught off guard. “And,” he continued, “I already know.” He didn’t mean the details. He meant the truth. “You and Rhett,” he said softly, “have been circling something since the first second you saw each other.” Mira looked down at her hands. “I felt it,” Jace added. “In the field. In the bond. That pull—like gravity with claws.” Still, she didn’t speak, so he did. “He needs you differently than I do. Fiercely. Desperately. Like you’re the only thing grounding him when everything else feels like pressure. That kind of connection, it makes sense that you’d go to him first.” Her head lifted slowly. “And you’re okay with that?” she asked, voice small. He gave a faint, tired smile. “It’s not a competition, Mira.” She frowned. “It feels like one.” “It doesn’t have to,” he said. “The mate bond between a triad isn’t about who’s first. It’s about why.” Mira exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening in her lap. “He kissed me like it was the last thing holding him together,” she whispered. “Then he walked away like it never happened.” “Because that’s what he does,” Jace said gently. “He retreats. He calculates. You saw a man breaking open. He saw a man losing control. That’s not the same thing.” She closed her eyes and for a moment, Jace needed to touch her, to give her comfort in some small way. He reached across the space between them, slowly, so she could stop him if she wanted, and gently placed his hand over hers. Her fingers twitched, but she didn’t pull away. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly. “Whether you’re kissing him or yelling at him or trying to outrun what we are. I’m still here.” The bond pulsed between them, subtle, steady, a soft rhythm under her skin. He was warmth and stability. Space to breathe. Mira turned her hand over in his, interlaced their fingers. No kiss. No dramatic declarations. Just acknowledgment and that meant more to Jace than she could possibly know. When the truck finally pulled to a stop outside the Blackstone compound, Mira didn’t let go right away and neither did he, but eventually, she drew in a breath and straightened. “This doesn’t make it easy.” “I don’t want easy,” Jace said. “I want honest.” Her lips twitched faintly. “You’re too good for this.” “No,” he said, letting his hand fall away. “I’m just sure it’s worth it.” As she stepped out of the truck, Jace glanced toward Rhett. The Alpha stood near the gates, issuing quiet orders to the waiting warriors, jaw tight, expression impassive, but something flickered in his eyes when he saw Mira step down from the vehicle—relief, regret, longing—too fast to name. When his eyes briefly shifted to Jace? Jace didn’t look away. For a second, neither of them did. Something passed between them. Still not attraction, Jace knew neither of them was attracted to men. Still not trust either, but understanding. A bond, slowly waking up. He wondered how tightly the bond would pull them together. If they were mated to each other, would they become physically attracted to each other?
