Rina doesn’t sleep.
She lies on her bed with the lights off, Jace’s jacket folded beside her like it has a pulse of its own. Rain ticks softly against the window, steady and relentless. Every time she closes her eyes, she feels it again—his hand at her waist, the quiet certainty in the way he stood between her and the world.
She tells herself it’s just adrenaline.
She lies.
Her phone vibrates at 1:17 a.m.
Jace: You inside?
She exhales through her nose before answering.
Rina: Yes.
Three dots appear. Vanish. Reappear.
Jace: Good.
That’s it. No follow-up. No excuse. Just that single word, warm and heavy, settling low in her chest.
She turns her phone face down and stares at the ceiling until sleep finally drags her under.
The next day arrives sharp and unforgiving.
Halecrest look
