The night pressed heavy against the city, its veins lit by neon and the distant hum of traffic. Ezra walked ahead of Kai, the chill air cutting through the sweat still clinging to his skin. He tried not to look back, but every few steps he caught the echo of Jace's boots dragging lazily behind them, like an echo that refused to die.
The warehouse lesson replayed in Ezra's mind like a fever dream—steel flashing, sparks spitting, the burn in his chest as he swung and refused to fall. Kai's words gnawed at him still: Fear isn't the enemy. Running is.
He wanted to hate Kai for forcing him into that space, for watching him flounder, for the strange glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes when Ezra finally struck back. But instead, Ezra felt something worse—an ache that pulled him closer, a tether he couldn't sever even if he wanted to.
Jace lit another cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating the sharp lines of his face. He exhaled, smoke curling into the cold air, his gaze fixed not on the street, but on the two figures ahead of him.
To anyone else, he looked like the same old Jace—apathetic, amused, the world his private joke. But beneath that practiced grin, something twisted. He had seen the way Kai's eyes lingered on Ezra, the way Kai's voice softened—barely, but enough.
Jace had followed Kai long enough to know that he didn't soften for anyone.
Not until Ezra.
And that gnawed at Jace like a stone caught under skin.
They reached the safehouse, an abandoned loft carved into a maze of crates and mattresses. Ezra dropped into the nearest chair, his body aching. Kai moved past him, silent, pouring water into a dented metal cup before sliding it across the table.
Ezra caught it clumsily. "Thanks."
Kai only nodded.
The quiet was broken by Jace's mocking drawl. "So. How does it feel, Ezra?"
Ezra glanced up, wary. "How does what feel?"
"To have Kai hold your hand through your first knife fight." Jace smirked, leaning against the wall, the glow of his cigarette painting his lips in orange. "Special, isn't it? Almost intimate."
Ezra stiffened. He wanted to snap back, to deny it, but his tongue betrayed him by staying still.
Kai's voice cut across the tension. "Enough, Jace."
But Jace only laughed, a low, bitter sound. "What? I'm not wrong. You've never done that for anyone else. Not even me."
Ezra frowned, confused. "What are you—"
Kai's glare was sharp enough to silence him. But Jace had already stepped forward, his smirk curdling into something darker.
"Tell him, Kai. Tell him how you only ever throw people into the fire. How you don't save them. How you don't teach them. Not until him."
The silence stretched like a wire, tight and dangerous. Ezra's stomach dropped, realizing there was more history here than he'd ever guessed.
Kai didn't answer. He just turned his back, setting his blade down on the table with care, as though the steel was easier to face than Jace's words.
That silence cut Jace deeper than anything else.
He crushed his cigarette under his heel and moved toward Ezra instead, his grin returning, sharp and deliberate. "You think he's your savior, don't you? That he's shaping you into something stronger?"
Ezra glared. "I don't need saving."
"Good," Jace murmured, leaning in too close, smoke clinging to his breath. "Because if you wait for Kai to catch you when you fall, you'll be waiting forever. He doesn't catch. He only watches."
Ezra shoved him back, his voice cracking with anger. "Why do you even care?"
For a moment, something raw flickered in Jace's eyes. But he buried it under a smirk. "Maybe I just enjoy watching new toys break."
Kai's voice sliced through the air, low and final. "That's enough."
But Jace didn't look at him. He only looked at Ezra, a storm simmering behind his easy grin.
Later, when Ezra finally fell asleep on the worn mattress, Kai stood watch at the cracked window, the city stretching endless beyond. Jace joined him, silent for once, his cigarette glowing faintly in the dark.
"You're slipping," Jace said finally, his tone quieter than usual.
Kai didn't answer.
"You're letting him in," Jace continued. "And you know what happens when you let anyone in."
Kai's jaw tightened. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Jace chuckled, bitter and low. "I know exactly what I'm talking about. You think you're teaching him control, but he's teaching you weakness. And when it destroys you, don't say I didn't warn you."
Kai turned then, his gaze cutting sharp as steel. "If you touch him—"
Jace's grin widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Relax. I won't break your toy." He exhaled smoke into Kai's face, slow, deliberate. "But don't forget—I was here first."
For once, Kai didn't reply.
And that silence was the loudest thing Jace had ever heard.