The world tilted sideways.

Jason wasn’t supposed to be alive.

I’d seen him burn. I’d smelled the smoke of his ruin, felt the ghost of his voice clawing at my dreams. I’d prayed it was over.

But there he was standing in the fractured doorway of our safehouse, skin marked by fire, but eyes sharper, darker than I remembered. His smile wasn’t the smile of a man who had cheated death. It was the smile of a man who had befriended it.

“Jason…” My whisper scraped out of me before I ...