Chapter 8
1428 Words
~ Becca ~
The first sign that the world outside my house had shifted came before noon—my phone, which I’d turned on only because Jace insisted, buzzed with three messages from numbers I didn’t recognize.
I didn’t open any of them.
But I knew exactly who they were from.
Stephen never handled rejection quietly. And being ignored? That was a threat to his ego, something he could never let slide.
Nate walked past my door, paused, and came back in. “Hey,” he said, arms crossed. “You need anything before I head out?”
“Where are you going?”
“Gym. Then I’m checking on Mom. Then…” He hesitated. “Then Jace wants me to meet Evan about some ‘security shit.’ I don’t love the idea, but whatever keeps that psycho away from you.”
“Stephen isn’t my problem anymore,” I said.
Nate arched a brow. “That’s cute. Doesn’t make it true.”
He leaned down, pressed a kiss to the top of my head like he used to when we were kids, and left.
The house felt too quiet after he was gone.
Too still.
Too vulnerable.
I moved to the window, parting the curtains just enough to peek out. Nothing. Just the usual street, early sunlight, and someone two houses down dragging their trash bin to the curb.
But the unease wouldn’t go away. It crawled beneath my skin, tightening my breath.
I didn’t realize how long I stood there until a familiar charcoal-gray car slowed in front of the house.
My pulse stuttered.
Jace.
He didn’t park. Didn’t honk. Didn’t call.
He simply waited.
I grabbed my jacket and headed downstairs.
Dad wasn’t home—he’d left early to pick up a shift. The silence felt heavy as I locked the door behind me and walked to the car.
Jace reached over and opened the passenger door without looking at me. “Get in.”
I did.
The smell hit me first—clean cologne, cedar, something cool and expensive that always reminded me of winter nights. His presence was even sharper up close, rigid lines, focused eyes, tension rolling off his shoulders in waves.
“What happened?” I asked, noticing the severity in his expression.
He pulled away from the curb, voice low. “Lydia happened.”
My stomach tightened. “What did she do?”
He didn’t answer right away. He drove two blocks before stopping at a red light, fingers tapping once on the steering wheel like he was forcing himself not to break it.
“She went to see Stephen this morning,” he said finally. “She wanted to know why he wasn’t answering her calls. Why he left her waiting all night. Why he looked like he hadn’t slept.”
God.
“That doesn’t concern me,” I said, even though my body reacted like it absolutely did.
“It does,” Jace said softly, eyes flicking to mine. “Because while she was yelling at him, she said something she shouldn’t have.”
He let the silence stretch.
“What did she say?”
“That he should forget the ‘ugly ex-fiancée’ and move on—‘that pathetic girl he left at the altar.’ Her words.”
I felt my chest tighten, but I stayed quiet.
“He snapped,” Jace said. “He grabbed her. Not violently—but enough for Evan to step in.”
My heart jumped. “Is Lydia okay?”
“She’s always okay,” he replied dryly. “She left screaming and crying, threatening to make both of us regret it. But that’s not the issue.”
“Then what is?”
Jace pulled into a small, empty overlook that faced the river. He put the car in park and turned to me fully.
“Stephen accused her of knowing where you were. He said she was hiding you. He said everyone is hiding you.”
I swallowed. “That doesn’t mean—”
“He’s spiraling,” Jace cut in. “Lydia pushed him over the edge. You walking away last night? That cracked him. Lydia insulting you? That broke him.”
I gripped my knees, grounding myself. “So what happens now? He can’t just—”
“Yes,” Jace said quietly. “He can.”
My breath faltered.
“He’s looking for you, Becca.”
I leaned back against the seat, pulse vibrating through my bones. I wasn’t afraid of Stephen—not in the way I used to be. But the idea of him hunting for me like something he misplaced made bile rise in my throat.
“I hate him,” I whispered.
Jace’s jaw flexed. “Good. Don’t lose that.”
A breeze rattled the trees around us. The world felt too open, too exposed.
“What about Lydia?” I asked.
Jace exhaled slowly. “She’s not letting this go. She saw Stephen rage about you, and she knows she’s losing control of him. That makes her dangerous.”
I pressed my fingers against my temples. “She’s going to come after me.”
“Yes,” he said simply.
I appreciated the honesty, even if it made my heart pound harder.
“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked.
Jace studied me for a long moment. His gaze softened, the edges losing their icy precision.
“Because you deserve the truth. And because you need to understand what kind of storm you’ve walked back into.”
My breath hitched. “I didn’t walk back into it. You pulled me into it.”
The surprise flickering in his eyes told me he didn’t expect me to say that.
And for some reason… it made me feel powerful.
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “If I could pull you out of it, I would.”
“But you can’t,” I said.
“No,” he admitted. “I can’t.”
The air between us thinned, hot, electric. Too intimate. Too revealing.
I turned away before it swallowed me whole.
“Take me home,” I whispered.
“Not yet.”
My chest tightened. “Why not?”
“Because Lydia isn’t the only one watching Stephen,” he said. “Brielle is too.”
I froze.
“What do you mean?”
“She showed up at his place earlier. Demanding attention. Demanding answers. Demanding—” His lip curled in disgust. “Demanding he take responsibility.”
“For what?”
His eyes lowered to my stomach—just for a second—before meeting mine again.
My breath caught.
“No,” I said immediately. “She’s lying. She always lies.”
“She might be,” he said. “But whether she’s telling the truth or not, she’s about to cause damage. She already threatened to tell Mrs. Hale everything—to ruin Stephen’s relationship, embarrass the family, force him to choose.”
“Choose what?” I asked quietly.
“Between a scandal and a child.”
I swallowed, pulse hammering. “Even if she’s lying… Stephen will want to know.”
“Exactly.”
A beat passed.
“What does that mean for me?” I asked.
“It means,” Jace said, leaning closer, “that things are going to get much worse for Stephen.”
A sharp rush of heat shot through my chest excitement, danger, satisfaction.
“And for Brielle?”
His gaze hardened. “She’s unraveling. She’ll slip soon. And when she does—you use it.”
I nodded slowly. “And Lydia?”
“She wants you gone,” Jace said. “Permanently.”
My throat closed.
“Then I’ll have to move faster,” I whispered.
Jace’s eyes flicked over my face, lingering with something dangerous and quiet.
“You’re not alone,” he said again, softer this time. “I’m right here.”
I hated how much I needed those words. Hated how grounding they felt. Hated how they made my revenge burn hotter, sharper, more precise.
I straightened in my seat.
“Take me home,” I repeated, but this time my voice didn’t shake.
Jace nodded, started the car, and pulled away from the overlook.
As we drove back into the city, my phone buzzed again.
One message.
No number.
Just a single line:
I know you still love me. – S
A chill crawled up my spine.
Not fear.
Anticipation.
The war had begun.
And I was finally ready to play.
- Writer
