The snow around Finn’s withered corpse wasn't just cold; it felt cursed.
"You killed him," Jace whispered, his voice cracking as he looked at the husk that used to be his best friend. He didn't look at Silas anymore. His eyes were fixed on me, wide with a lethal, shimmering hatred. "You didn't just kill him, you erased him."
He lunged.
Jace didn't shift. He used the silver hunting knife, aiming for my chest with a desperate, clumsy fury. I was still reeling from the rush of Finn’s life force—my skin was buzzing, my vision too sharp, my heart hammering a rhythm that wasn't mine. I saw the blade's silver edge glinting in the pale winter light, but I couldn't move. My muscles were locked in a post-drain paralysis.
Silas didn't just intervene. He threw himself between us.
The sound of the
