Grace pov
The hospital waiting room had become my entire world. I had been pacing the same ten-foot stretch of linoleum for three hours now, unable to sit, unable to stop moving, unable to do anything except replay the moment over and over again in my mind.
Jace throwing himself in front of that blade. The silver sinking into his stomach. The way he'd looked at me with those blue eyes going dim and said, *You're my mate.*
Like it explained everything. Like it justified dying for me.
I looked down at my hands. They were still covered in his blood—dried now, flaking off in rusty brown pieces when I flexed my fingers. I was covered in it, actually. My clothes were soaked through, my arms and chest painted red from where I had tried desperately to stop the bleeding.
Someone had offered m
