The first week after Luca left was the strangest of Jace's life.
He woke each morning in the same bed, in the same house, but everything felt different. The door wasn't locked. The guards were still present, but they no longer followed his every move. He could walk into the kitchen without permission, pour himself coffee without asking, sit and stare out the window for as long as he wanted.
Damian gave him space. Too much space, maybe. They circled each other like wary animals, unsure of the new rules. Damian slept in the study some nights, the bedroom others, always waiting for Jace's reaction, his permission, his choice.
It was exhausting. And terrifying. And, somehow, the first real thing Jace had felt in months.
On the fifth day, Jace found Damian in the kitchen at dawn, staring at a cup of coffee that had long gone cold.
"You're up early," Jace said, leaning against the doorway.
Damian looked up, startled actually startled, as if he'd forgotten anyone else existed. "Couldn't sleep."
"Me neither." Jace crossed to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. He didn't ask permission. He just did it. The small act of autonomy still felt foreign, dangerous, like he was breaking a rule that no longer existed.
He sat across from Damian at the kitchen island. For a long moment, neither spoke.
"I don't know how to do this," Damian admitted finally. His voice was rough, stripped of its usual polish. "I don't know how to be... whatever this is. With you. Without the rules."
Jace wrapped his hands around his coffee mug, letting the warmth seep into his palms. "You think I do? You spent months teaching me how to be owned. I don't remember how to be anything else."
The words were honest, not cruel. Damian flinched anyway.
"I'm sorry," he said. The words came out stiff, awkward he clearly wasn't used to saying them. "I know it's not enough. I know it changes nothing. But I need you to hear it."
Jace looked at him really looked, past the monster, past the captor, past the man who had broken him. He saw someone who had never learned how to want without taking. Someone who had been shaped by a world that valued power above all else. Someone who was, for the first time, staring at the consequences of his choices and finding them unbearable.
"I hear you," Jace said quietly. "I don't forgive you. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I hear you."
Damian nodded, accepting the judgment. "What do you need? From me. Right now. Today."
The question was so simple, so human, that Jace almost laughed. What did he need? Food? Safety? Freedom? Revenge?
"I need to know Luca's okay," he said finally. "I need to know he's safe."
Damian pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and handed it over. On the screen was a photo Luca, sitting in a small café somewhere sunny, a coffee in front of him, looking tired but alive. The timestamp was from yesterday.
"He's in Mexico," Damian said. "Far enough that my reach is thin. He has enough money to start over. He's safe."
Jace stared at the photo, his throat tight. Luca was alive. Luca was free. It wasn't everything, but it was something.
"Thank you," he whispered. The words felt strange on his tongue gratitude to the man who had destroyed him. But it was real. He couldn't help it.
Damian looked away, uncomfortable with the thanks. "Don't. I did this to him. To you. Keeping him alive is the bare minimum."
"It's more than you had to do."
They sat in silence for a while, the morning light growing stronger. Eventually, Damian spoke again.
"There's something else. Something I need to tell you." He paused, gathering himself. "I've started the process of handing over control of the business. Not all of it it's complicated, there are people who depend on me, people who would be killed if I just walked away. But I'm... I'm stepping back. Training successors. Making myself replaceable."
Jace stared at him. "You're what?"
"I don't want to be that person anymore." Damian met his eyes, and there was nothing hidden there just raw, terrifying honesty. "The person who thinks owning people is the same as loving them. The person who breaks what he wants because he doesn't know how to ask. I don't know if I can become someone else, but I have to try. And I can't try while I'm still running an empire built on fear."
Jace's mind reeled. Damian Moreau, stepping down. Damian Moreau, choosing change. It was impossible. It was happening.
"Why?" Jace asked. "Why now?"
Damian was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Because I looked at you that night, after Luca left, and I saw what I'd made. A hollow shell where a person used to be. And I realized that if I kept going, if I kept being who I was, I'd spend the rest of my life surrounded by hollow shells. And I'd be one too." He swallowed hard. "I don't want to be hollow. I want to feel something real. Even if it hurts. Even if it means losing you in the end."
Jace didn't know what to say. There were no words for this for the impossibility of a monster choosing humanity, for the terror of hope after so long without it.
So instead of speaking, he reached across the island and took Damian's hand.
Damian's breath caught. He stared at their joined hands as if he'd never seen such a thing before.
"I don't know what happens next," Jace said quietly. "I don't know if we can ever be... normal. Whatever that means. But I'm still here. I'm still choosing to be here. And that's got to count for something."
Damian's eyes were wet again. He didn't try to hide it this time.
"It counts for everything," he whispered.
That night, for the first time, they came together not as captor and captive, not as master and owned, but as two people reaching for something fragile and new.
Damian's touches were different hesitant, questioning, always checking, always asking without words. Jace responded in kind, his body slowly remembering how to give without being taken. It was awkward and tentative and nothing like the polished performances of before.
It was real. And real was terrifying.
Afterward, they lay in the dark, tangled together, breathing in sync. Damian's hand traced lazy patterns on Jace's skin, a comfort neither of them had words for.
"Jace," Damian murmured.
"Mm?"
"I don't deserve this. You. Any of it."
Jace turned his head, looking at him in the dim light. "Probably not. But deserving doesn't have anything to do with it. We're both here. We're both trying. That's all we've got."
Damian's arm tightened around him. "It's enough."
For the first time in months, Jace slept without nightmares. And when he woke in the morning, still wrapped in Damian's arms, he didn't feel trapped...