Chapter 18
The cold night air bit at Jace’s skin, but he barely felt it.
He stood beneath the dim glow of a streetlamp in a quiet corner of Brooklyn, the amber light stretching long shadows across the pavement. His arms were crossed, jacket zipped to the collar, but the chill inside him had nothing to do with the weather.
It had been two days since the hospital. Since Elias had touched him like he owned him—claimed him in that private room like the world outside didn’t exist.
And Jace had let him.
Even now, the memory lingered like a bruise he couldn’t stop pressing: the weight of Elias’s hands, the low growl in his voice, the unbearable intensity in those goddamn eyes. Jace hadn’t even fought back—not really. He’d wanted it. That was the worst part.
But desire wasn’t the mission.
And the mission was all that mattered.
Noah was still fighting for his life. Time was running out. And Elias Crane—arrogant, obsessive, dangerous Elias—was his only path forward.
Jace dug his hands deeper into his coat pockets, glancing down the street. No sign of him yet.
He’d debated texting for hours. Paced back and forth in his apartment until his legs ached. But when the decision finally came, it was simple.
Elias had a file. A file he wasn’t supposed to have—one that tied Victor Crane to something dark, maybe even criminal. Jace had caught a glimpse of it the last time he was in Elias’s office, half-buried beneath a pile of contracts.
That file could be the beginning of everything.
The truth.
Revenge.
Justice.
But Elias wasn’t stupid. His office was a fortress. The only way Jace would get in again… was if he gave Elias exactly what he wanted.
Him.
He’d texted Elias without overthinking it—just five words: I need to see you. Then, he dropped a location he knew was private enough to be safe, but public enough for plausible deniability.
And now, he waited.
He hated that part.
Waiting.
Feeling vulnerable.
Feeling like—
Headlights appeared at the far end of the street.
A sleek black car slowed, engine humming low as it pulled up beside him. The tinted window slid down halfway, and there he was.
Elias.
Sharp suit. Open collar. Eyes that burned like frostbitten fire.
“You look like you’ve been waiting for me your whole life,” Elias drawled, voice low and amused.
Jace’s pulse jumped, but he smirked anyway, keeping his expression calm. “You took your time.”
“I had to shower. And… prepare.” Elias’s gaze dipped down Jace’s body, unapologetically slow. “Where are we going?”
Jace hesitated. “Not far.”
He opened the passenger door without asking permission and slid in. The scent hit him instantly—Elias’s cologne, dark spice and smoke, coiling around him like a memory. It unsettled him how comforting it was.
Elias didn’t say a word as he pulled the car back onto the road, letting the silence stretch.
Jace stared out the window, but his mind was racing.
He didn’t know what this night would cost him. He just knew it was necessary.
“You’re quiet,” Elias finally said.
“You like me better that way, don’t you?” Jace replied, still not looking at him.
Elias chuckled under his breath. “Not tonight.”
They arrived at a short-term loft rental Jace had booked earlier that day—sleek, minimalist, cold. The kind of place that didn’t ask questions.
He led Elias upstairs, hands shaking only slightly as he unlocked the door. Inside, the space was dimly lit, bathed in soft amber glow. A couch. A kitchen counter. A bedroom visible through a cracked door.
It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t meant to be.
Still, when he turned to face Elias, something sharp twisted in his chest.
“You’re full of surprises tonight,” Elias murmured, closing the door behind him. “I didn’t expect a text from you. Let alone… this.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” Jace said, voice low.
“No?” Elias stepped closer, eyes darkening. “Then who was it for?”
Jace didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped into Elias’s space and kissed him.
Hard.
Desperate.
It wasn’t tender—it was a transaction. A calculated offering wrapped in heat and tension. And yet, the moment their lips met, his body betrayed him.
The kiss burned.
Elias gripped his waist, fingers digging in like he’d been starved for this. Jace allowed it, let himself be pushed backward toward the couch, mouths never parting. Their coats hit the floor, followed by a low groan from Elias that made Jace’s spine arch.
“You’ve been thinking about me,” Elias rasped against his lips. “Admit it.”
Jace didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Elias’s hands were already under his shirt, trailing up his ribs, possessive and searching.
But even as his skin flamed with need, his mind stayed focused.
The file.
The office.
He needed to get Elias so drunk on him that the man would invite him back, that he’d drop his guard. Jace had learned something important in the past weeks: Elias didn’t just want to fuck him. He wanted to possess him. Keep him.
And tonight, Jace was going to let him believe he could.
Their bodies collided again, sharper this time, Elias’s mouth dragging down his neck, teeth grazing the skin. Jace gasped, clutching Elias’s shirt, tugging it free of his pants.
“Say it,” Elias growled. “Say you missed me.”
Jace closed his eyes.
Yes, he had.
But he wasn’t allowed to say it.
“I missed your cock,” he whispered instead, voice thick.
Elias let out a dark laugh. “Liar.”
And then he lifted him—just like that—and tossed him onto the couch, following a second later with a hungry, bruising kiss.
Clothes were shed. Heat consumed the silence. Jace gave in to the rhythm, to the sweat, to the weight of Elias’s body pressing down on his, their skin slick and searing where it touched. Elias moved with calculated control—hard, relentless, every thrust designed to pull sound from Jace’s throat. And Jace gave it to him. Moans that rang out in the dark, soft gasps that broke through clenched teeth. He arched into it, legs wrapped tight around Elias’s waist, nails raking down his back—not because he wanted to, but because he needed to sell the illusion.
The illusion of surrender. Of pleasure. Of need.
But somewhere in the storm of it—somewhere between Elias's hand wrapped around his throat, the brutal rhythm of their bodies, and the growled curses spilling from Elias’s lips—Jace began to slip.
He couldn’t remember when the act had started to blur. When the heat pooling in his belly stopped being part of the performance. When the way Elias whispered “mine” against his neck started sounding like something he wanted to believe.
Elias bit down on his shoulder and Jace cried out, his hands fisting the sheets, back bowing. He hated how his body responded, how his pulse pounded in his ears like a drumbeat of betrayal. Elias wasn’t supposed to feel this good. He wasn’t supposed to make Jace tremble, wasn’t supposed to make him come with a broken sound that he couldn’t contain.
But he did.
And Jace let him.
By the time Elias collapsed beside him, muscles twitching, chest rising and falling with every deep breath, Jace felt wrecked. Open. Raw.
Elias was sprawled on his side, one strong arm draped over Jace’s waist possessively. His skin was flushed, his lips still parted, a lazy satisfaction written all over his face. And for a long moment, the only sound in the room was their breathing, slowing into sync.
Jace stared at the ceiling, barely blinking. The damp sheets clung to his skin, and the scent of sex lingered heavy in the air.
He’d done it.
He’d given Elias everything. His body, his moans, his eyes clouded with pretend lust. And Elias had eaten it up like a man starving.
He had him now—right where he wanted him.
Wrapped around his finger.
Obsessed. Possessive. Weak.
And tomorrow, he’d make his move.