Something about Jace had changed.
I couldn't quite name it, but I could feel it.
He wasn't cold, not exactly. He was just quieter and harder to read. There was a stillness in him that felt dangerous, like the air right before lightning splits the sky.
He didn't go to Palermo anymore. According to Tomas, he changed his mind last minute and came home. I was relieved but at the same time worried about his demeanor. I would catch him standing by the window some nights, staring out into the city, his phone in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. The glow from the skyline would fall across his face, outlining that expression I had learned to recognize was the one he wore when he was thinking too much.
At first, I didn't question it. We'd been through enough for me to know that silence, for Jace, usually meant he was planning something. But this time… this silence felt heavier. It carried something he wasn't saying.
