Chapter 4 4

"Whispers and Warnings"

High school hallways had a way of exposing you. Every whispered secret, every sideways glance- it all had a rhythm. A language. And by Monday morning, the halls were speaking about me and Jace.

It started subtly.

Whispers.

Stares.

People shifting when we walked past.

Maybe it was the way we entered together. Maybe it was the rumor mill churning something up out of thin air. But something had changed.

"Did you two coordinate your outfits or something?" Mila asked as she fell into step beside me, her eyebrows raised.

I looked down-ripped jeans, black hoodie, beat-up Converse.

Jace was wearing nearly the same thing.

Pure coincidence. But I could already hear what people would say.

"God, no," I muttered, shoving my locker open. "Please don't start."

"Start what?"

I gave her a look. "I can see it all over your face."

She smirked. "Look, I'm just saying... you two have been kind of magnetic lately."

"He's my stepbrother."

She arched a brow. "And yet that didn't sound like a denial."

I slammed my locker a little harder than necessary. "Can we talk about literally anything else?"

Mila laughed but dropped it-thankfully.

Across the hall, Jace leaned against his locker, earbuds in, gaze distant like he was listening to music and the voices in his head all at once. His jaw was clenched the way it always was when he was trying not to explode. When he caught my eyes, I gave him a subtle nod.

He returned it. Just a flick of understanding.

We were good. For now.

But by third period, I knew something was wrong.

When I slipped into my seat in English, Jace wasn't there. He was never early, but he wasn't late either. I waited through the bell, through the roll call, through Mr. Hargrove's droning monologue about The Crucible.

Still no Jace.

At lunch, I scanned the courtyard. No hoodie, no Jace.

Mila found me near the vending machines. "He's not answering texts?"

I shook my head.

"What if he-"

"I know," I cut in, voice low. "I know what you're going to say. And no, I don't think he ran. Not yet."

But doubt was gnawing at me.

Jace didn't disappear without reason.

I skipped last period.

It wasn't even a question. I just grabbed my bag, ducked out the back doors of the science wing, and headed for the parking lot. Fifteen minutes later, I was standing outside the old warehouse near the tracks.

Ray's place.

The halfway house was tucked behind a chain-link fence, half-obscured by ivy and rust, but I recognized the beat-up pickup parked outside.

When I knocked, Ray opened the door.

"Lena?"

I didn't waste time. "Is Jace here?"

His expression didn't change. But I saw something flicker behind his eyes.

"Come in."

The room smelled like old wood and stronger coffee. The TV buzzed softly in the corner, and the furniture looked like it had been rescued from a landfill.

Jace sat on the couch, arms folded across his chest, staring at nothing.

He didn't look surprised to see me. Just... tired.

"You left school," I said.

He shrugged. "Didn't feel like playing pretend today."

"You scared me."

That made him flinch, even if he tried to hide it.

Ray stood up. "I'll give you two a minute."

Once he was gone, I crossed the room and stood in front of Jace.

"What's going on?"

He didn't answer at first. Then finally, "Marco showed up at school."

My blood turned to ice.

"What? When?"

"Before first period. He was in the lot. Said he just wanted to talk."

"And you believed him?"

Jace laughed without humor. "Hell no. That's why I left."

"Why didn't you come find me?"

"Because I didn't want you near him!" The words burst out of him like a fire he couldn't contain. "He's dangerous, Lena. I didn't want you in the crosshairs."

I sat beside him, the cushions dipping between us. "You don't have to protect me."

He turned his head, eyes blazing. "Yeah. I do."

Something hung in the air between us then, heavy and unspoken.

I reached out and took his hand.

He didn't pull away.

"I'm in this too now," I whispered. "Whatever Marco wants, he's not just coming for you anymore. He knows about me."

Jace's grip tightened. "I'm going to fix it."

"Not alone."

We sat like that, side by side, the world pressing in from all sides. But for once, I didn't feel afraid.

Not yet.

Later that night, we stayed quiet during dinner. Mom was too busy gushing about a work thing to notice the tension.

When I caught Jace's eye across the table, something passed between us again-an invisible string, pulled tight.

And later, when I passed by his room on the way to mine, I paused at his door.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, hands in his hair.

I didn't knock. Just stepped inside.

He didn't look up. "You shouldn't be in here."

"Too late."

I closed the door behind me.

"You can't keep shutting me out," I said softly.

"I'm trying not to."

"Then try harder."

His hands dropped into his lap, and he looked at me-really looked at me.

"You're not scared of me?"

"No."

"Even if I told you what I did?"

"Yes."

He stood. The space between us disappeared in three steps.

"You make me feel like I'm still human," he said, voice rough.

"You are."

"But I don't want to drag you down with me."

I stepped closer. "Too late for that too."

His breath caught. And for a second- just one heartbeat- it felt like the whole world narrowed to this room, this moment.

But he stepped back, eyes full of things he couldn't say.

"I can't, Lena."

"I know."

Neither of us moved.

Neither of us wanted to.

But we both knew-something was coming. Something darker than the past, sharper than the truth... And when it arrived, the only question would be: Would we still be standing on the same side?

"Whispers and Warnings"

I stayed in Jace's room for a few moments, staring at him, watching the way his body remained tense despite the calm in his eyes. It was like he was bracing for something, or maybe waiting for me to leave. I didn't know which, but I wasn't ready to give him space-not yet.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said, my voice quieter than usual.

Jace's eyes softened, just a little. He took a deep breath, then rubbed his hands over his face like he was trying to scrub away the fatigue that had been building for weeks.

"You don't get it," he muttered, almost to himself. "You think you're helping, but you don't know what you're getting into."

"I'm already in it, Jace," I shot back, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice. "Whether you like it or not, I'm in this with you. If you think I'm going to walk away just because things get hard, you're wrong."

He didn't respond right away, just stared at me for a long moment. Then, his lips twitched upward-just barely.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?"

"Is that a compliment?"

"It depends on how you use it."

I laughed softly, but the sound felt off, like it was a distraction from something heavier between us. A distraction from the truth.

"Listen, I don't care what you've done in the past," I said, voice firm, "I care about what you're doing now. And right now, you're pushing people away when you need them most."

Jace didn't answer, but I could see the conflict behind his eyes. The guilt. The fear. And under it all, the desire to protect me-to keep me from the same darkness he'd been living in for so long.

The problem was, he didn't realize I was already in the dark.

"I'm not afraid of you, Jace," I said, stepping forward until there was barely a foot between us. "And I'm not afraid of your past. I'm just afraid of losing you."

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I saw something vulnerable in him. Something raw. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the usual walls he built around himself.

"I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

"I'm not some fragile thing that needs to be protected, Jace. And you don't get to decide what happens to me."

"I'm trying to protect you."

I shook my head, frustrated. "By pushing me away? By running from everything? You can't fix this on your own. I'm not going to let you try."

The tension in the room was thick, like the air had turned to stone, and I wasn't sure who was breathing harder-him or me.

Finally, he dropped his gaze, shoulders sagging with exhaustion. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to trust anyone. Not anymore."

I stepped closer, my heart pounding in my chest. "Then let me help you learn."

His gaze shot up to meet mine. It was intense, searching, as if he was weighing me in ways I couldn't understand.

"You're not scared of me?" he asked again, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No," I said without hesitation. "I'm scared of the way you make me feel, Jace. But I'm not scared of you."

A heavy silence fell between us. I could feel the weight of his emotions, his doubts, pressing down on both of us. He was holding back, trying to fight something inside himself-something that I wasn't sure I could fix.

"You don't know what you're asking for," he finally muttered, taking a step back, the distance between us growing.

"Then show me."

"I can't. Not like this."

"Then teach me, Jace. I'm not going to leave. Not now. Not after everything we've been through."

The vulnerability in his eyes faltered for a second before he turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"You don't get it," he said, his voice low and strained. "I don't have a choice. Marco is coming for me. And when he does, it won't just be me he goes after."

My heart dropped. "What do you mean?"

"He'll hurt anyone who's close to me. Including you." His voice was thick with emotion, raw with the weight of his fears. "I can't let that happen. I can't risk you getting dragged into this."

"You can't push me away just because you're scared," I snapped. "You think I'll just walk away when things get dangerous? If anything, that makes me want to stay even more."

Jace's gaze flickered to mine, his expression unreadable. "I can't live with myself if something happens to you because of me."

"Well, you don't have a choice either," I said softly. "I'm already here, Jace. And I'm not going anywhere."

There was a long pause, the air thick with everything unsaid. His jaw clenched, eyes hardening once again, but I could see the tiny crack in his walls. Just a crack.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered, so quietly that I almost didn't hear him.

"You're not going to," I replied, my voice steady.

But I wasn't so sure anymore. There was a darkness surrounding Jace that I wasn't sure either of us could escape. And Marco's shadow loomed closer every day, casting a longer reach into our lives.

The next day at school, the tension didn't dissipate. If anything, it had only grown thicker, heavier, like a storm waiting to break. People were still talking, still watching, still wondering about Jace and me. The whispers followed us in the hallways, the cafeteria, even in the parking lot.

I wasn't used to being under a microscope. But when Jace and I crossed paths between classes, there was something different about the way he looked at me-something that made my heart race and my breath catch.

It wasn't just the danger. It wasn't just the questions and the fear.

It was something else. Something deeper. Something neither of us was ready to face.

But we didn't have a choice.

By the time I got home that evening, I found myself standing at the edge of the yard, staring out into the distance. The cool air felt like a slap against my skin, but it didn't do much to shake the tension inside me.

I wasn't sure where this would go. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to help Jace when he refused to help himself. But I knew one thing for sure-whatever this was, it was only just beginning.

And when Marco finally came for him, I wasn't going to let Jace face it alone.

"Lena," Jace's voice broke through my thoughts, and I turned to find him standing by the door. His expression was unreadable, but I could see the exhaustion in his eyes. "I don't want you to do this."

I took a step toward him, heart pounding in my chest. "I don't want you to push me away."

He shook his head, and for a moment, I thought he might finally give in. But instead, he took a step back.

"I can't let you get hurt. Not because of me."

"I'm already in this, Jace," I said firmly, stepping closer. "And I'm not going anywhere."

But even as I spoke, I knew- I wasn't sure if we were both walking toward something dangerous or if we were just running from the inevitable. Either way, we were already in too deep.