Tabitha’s POV

I swallow hard. He’s right. The worst is over. And maybe—just maybe—celebrating doesn’t sound so bad after all.

The brothers guide me into the living room, where the vast couches and polished floors feel almost unreal after the cold stone and damp stench of the dungeon or the boring white walls in the hospital. The couch swallows me whole the moment I stretch out on it. The cushions sink under my weight, and for a second I almost forget how stone walls and iron bars felt against my skin.

Jace flops down beside me without asking, his shoulder brushing mine. He tilts his head, studying my face, then...