The tension after Donna's declaration was so thick it could be cut with a knife.
I could feel the anger and shock radiating from Jace's body in waves. His broad shoulders stiffened, his jaw locked tight, his hands balled into fists at his sides. It wasn't often I saw him so openly rattled.
No one said anything. Donna reclined against the pillows, looking far too composed for someone who had nearly died only days ago. She stared at her son with sharp, unflinching eyes, unmoved by his glare. If it had been anyone else under the weight of that look, they would have crumbled, melted into the floor just to escape the intensity. But not her.
Even I felt uncomfortable, like I was standing on dangerous ground I didn't belong on.
I glanced at Jace. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths, like he was seconds away from exploding but was forcing himself to hold back. His eyes were storm clouds. They were cold and unforgiving.
