The silence in the gym was suffocating. I stared at Jace, trying to find a trace of the boy who had been my anchor, but his expression was like a locked vault.
"Jace, talk to me," I whispered. "Your brother just implied that everything—you, him, Zayelle—is some kind of lie. What happened the night she moved here?"
Jace took a step toward me, his shadow stretching long across the hardwood floor. He looked like Marvin for a second—the same sharp jaw, the same broad shoulders—but where Marvin was fire and rage, Jace was ice.
"Marvin is looking for someone to bleed with him, Cass," Jace said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "He’s obsessed with the idea that Zayelle is the key to something, and he’s using that to justify why he’s treating Jacinta like trash."
"But he called her Zayelle," I pre
