Page 73 of Edge of Control

Maybe he was already at Stonewall… although he normally didn’t show up to the office until around nine. It was still early. Or maybe he was at the police station. Maybe I was too late?—

The lock clicked open. The door creaked. Jace appeared in the sliver of empty space.

“Theo. I can’t talk now.”

“Please,” I said, desperation cutting into my voice. “This will be quick. I just need to tell you what’s been going on.”

“Theo—”

“It will all make sense. I promise, I’m here to tell you the truth.”

His gaze dropped down to my hands.

Holy shit. Of course, if he already suspected me of being Nevermore, then he could possibly be thinking I was here to hurt him.

That thought alone cut me deeper than any knife could have. It sliced me in half. I’d never hurt him. He had to know that, didn’t he? Fuck, I’d kill anyone who did hurt him. I kept my hands out of my pockets, a subtle sign that I had no weapon on me.

“Please, Jace. Please.”

He closed the door. I wanted to slam my entire body against it. Wanted to beg and plead for him to open up. For him to hear me out.

For him to forgive me.

All I did was hold my hand up against the doorknob.Tears started to slide down my face. I’d fucked up. I really fucked it all up. There was no fixing this. I rested my head against the door, stopped myself from rearing back and bringing my forehead crashing against it.

The door opened. Jace stood there, in the same clothes he wore last night, his face pale with dark bags under his eyes. “I don’t know what to do. Theo… tell me right now. Are you Nevermore?”

“Can I come inside?”

“Answer me.”

“Let me in, Jace. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Answer me. Now.”

I could only nod. A small movement that would undoubtedly cause a tidal wave of change.

Jace stumbled backward. “Say it. Say it out loud.”

“Jace… I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Holy shit. Holy shit.”

“Hear me out, please.”

“You’re Nevermore. You’re the killer. You’re the one I’ve been looking for.”

“I had my reasons, Jace. Everything I did was with a purpose.”

He looked like he was close to passing out. He patted down his pockets, searching for his phone. He found it and pulled it out. His hands were shaking, his eyes pinned on mine. There was fear there. Anger as well. Betrayal.

“I’m so sorry. Please believe me, Jace.”

“I need to tell the police.”

“You can. I’ll confess to everything. But let me confess to you first. Let me tell you why Idid what I did.”

“I don’t want to hear your sick excuses. You’re a murderer.”

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