Grace pov
I stood behind the one-way observation glass, watching as my grandfather prepared the interrogation room. Despite Jace's protests, despite every protective instinct screaming at him to keep me far away from this, I had insisted on being present. This threat was against me, against my son. I deserved to see the truth extracted, no matter how ugly it got.
Beside me, Jace was tense, his hand resting protectively on my lower back. At five months pregnant, my center of gravity had shifted enough that I appreciated the support, even if I would never admit it aloud.
"You don't have to watch this," Jace said quietly. "Thomas will give us a full report."
"I need to see her face," I replied. "Need to understand who hates us enough to target our unborn child."
The door to the interroga
