Page 109 of Push My Buttons

For so long, I've equated control with safety, with survival. But here, in this moment, I understand that sometimes the greatest power comes from letting go. From trusting that someone will catch you when you fall.

And I know, with absolute certainty, that Jace and Theo will always be there to catch me. To hold me. To love me, exactly as I am—broken voice, damaged past, and all.

Tonight, I gave them control. Tomorrow, I might take it back. The beauty is in knowing I have the choice—and that no matter what I choose, their love for me remains constant, unshakable.

As sleep claims me, I feel more whole, more myself, than I ever have. Not because they completed me, but because they helped me find the pieces of myself I thought were lost forever.

And that, more than anything, is worth surrendering for.

Chapter 40

Wren

Istepoutofthe shower, wrapping a towel around my body. The bathroom mirror is fogged, my reflection a pink-haired blur. I wipe a clear patch with my palm, studying my face. The bruises from my fall have faded to yellowish smudges, and the stitches at the lower back of my head itch beneath my damp hair near my hairline.

I dress quickly in comfortable clothes—loose jeans and one of Jace's t-shirts that hangs to mid-thigh. My throat feels raw this morning, the result of speaking so much and last night's... activities. Worth it, though. So worth it.

When I emerge from the bathroom, I find Jace already set up at the dining table, laptop open, fingers flying across the keyboard. He glances up, his eyes softening when they land on me.

"Feel better?" he asks.

I nod, padding barefoot to the kitchen to make tea. I need a rest today. I watch Theo struggling with his tie, muttering curses under his breath. The sight makes me smile—this powerful, confident man, undone by a simple strip of fabric.

I abandon my tea preparation to help him, batting his hands away and taking over. His eyes meet mine as I adjust his collar, something warm and intimate passing between us.

"Thanks," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"You look nice,"I sign, stepping back to admire my handiwork.

"Not as nice as you," he replies, his eyes traveling appreciatively over my casual attire. "Even in Jace's ratty old t-shirt, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

I roll my eyes at the flattery, but warmth blooms in my chest. I'm about to return to my tea when my phone rings, the sound startling in the quiet apartment. No one ever calls me—they all know I don't speak.

I grab it from the counter, my stomach dropping when I see Maya's name on the screen. Something's wrong. Very wrong. She never calls, only messages.

My thumb swipes to answer, but before I can even try to force out a greeting, Maya's voice blasts through the speaker, high and hysterical.

"Wren? Oh my god, Wren, are you there? Are you okay? Please tell me you're okay!"

The panic in her voice sends ice through my veins. I fumble with the phone, hitting the speaker button so Jace and Theo can hear.

"She's here, Maya," Jace says, immediately abandoning his work to join me. "She's fine. What's happened?"

"Oh thank god," Maya gasps, her voice breaking. "I was so worried when you didn't message last night like you said you would but I figured maybe you just fell asleep early, and then I got to work this morning to open up and—" She breaks off with a choked sound.

"Maya?" Theo prompts, moving closer to the phone. "What's going on?"

"It's Marcus," she says, her voice suddenly dropping to a whisper. "He's... oh god, he's dead. Someone killed him."

My legs go weak. Theo's arm wraps around my waist, steadying me.

"What do you mean, killed?" Jace asks, his voice sharp with tension.

"I mean murdered," Maya says, a hysterical edge creeping back into her voice. "Slaughtered. Not just stabbed or shot or whatever. He was... he was torn apart."

I feel the blood drain from my face. Theo guides me to a chair, his hand warm on my back.

"There was so much blood," Maya continues, her voice shaking uncontrollably. "Everywhere. All over the café. And his... his hands were cut off. Just... lying there on the counter." She pauses, and I hear the unmistakable sound of her gagging. "Oh god, I'm sorry. The fingers are gone too. They're not... they're not attached to the hands anymore."