Chapter 33
The night air bit at my face as Cole and I trudged up the path to Covenant House.
Dawn was just a suggestion on the horizon, the sky that murky blue-black that comes before the first real light.
My body ached with exhaustion, but my mind raced with furious energy, replaying our fruitless confrontation with Williams over and over.
"That smug, spineless bastard," I muttered, fumbling with my keys. "Did you see his face when I threatened to represent Megan? Like it was some kind of fucking joke." Cole sighed behind me, his breath forming a cloud in the cold morning air.
"Williams has always been a puppet. We shouldn't be surprised."
"He's going to let Julia get away with it. After what she did to Cade." My hand shook with rage as I tried to fit the key into the lock. "She showed her the fucking videos, Cole. She broke her all over again."
"I know," Cole said quietly, reaching past me to steady my hand and guide the key home. "But we'll handle it. We always do."
The door swung open, and we stepped into the silent foyer of Covenant House.
The contrast between the cold outside and the warm interior should have been comforting, but nothing could soothe the restless fury churning inside me.
We'd spent half the night arguing with Headmaster Williams, who'd sat behind his desk with that infuriating half-smile, like we were children throwing a tantrum.
"Julia Latters has suffered enough," I said, mimicking Williams's pompous tone as I shrugged off my coat.
"A broken nose and some cracked ribs are hardly proportionate to showing videos of sexual assault to their victim.
Megan should not be the one facing disciplinary action.
" Cole closed the door softly behind us, his eyes weary.
"At least Melody took matters into her own hands. Julia won't be welcome at Courts House again."
I laughed bitterly, remembering how we'd stormed Courts House earlier that night, only to find Julia already gone.
Melody had explained how Silvia had sent Julia running with a single, well-placed threat: that I was coming to finish what I'd started months ago.
The memory should have pleased me, but it didn't. It wasn't enough.
Nothing would be enough after what Julia had done to Cade.
"We should have been able to reach Killingham," I said, pacing the foyer, unable to stand still despite my exhaustion.
"Why the fuck is he in New Mexico when we need him here?"
"They think they're close to one of Damien’s associates," Cole reminded me, his voice low.
"Sebastian wouldn't be there if they weren't." The mention of Damien's name sent a fresh surge of rage through me.
I'd killed David Marshall for his part in Cade's abduction, but Damien, the true architect of her suffering, was still out there. Still breathing. Still a threat.
"I should be there," I said, running a hand through my hair. "I should be hunting him down. I should be the one to end him."
"Ryder," Cole's voice took on that tone he used when he thought I was spiralling. "You need to rest. We all do. We're no good to Cade if we're falling apart."
I knew he was right, but the thought of sleep seemed impossible. How could I rest when the videos of Cade's torture were still circulating? When Julia was getting away with showing them to her? When Damien was still alive somewhere, perhaps watching those same videos and laughing?
"I'm going to check on her," I said, already moving toward the stairs.
"Just to make sure she's okay." Cole followed silently, understanding my need without question.
We moved through the darkened house with practiced ease, our footsteps barely audible on the thick carpet.
When we reached Cade's door, I hesitated, my hand on the knob.
What if she was awake? What if she was crying, reliving the horror of seeing those videos?
What if she needed us and we'd been gone, chasing bureaucratic justice that would never come?
I pushed the door open gently, peering into the darkness of her room.
The sight that greeted us made my breath catch: Logan and Cade, tangled together in sleep, her purple hair splayed across his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around her.
They were both clearly naked beneath the sheets, the evidence of their intimacy obvious in the discarded clothing on the floor and the peaceful exhaustion on their faces.
I waited for the jealousy to hit me, that possessive rage that had consumed me so many times before when I thought of Cade with someone else.
But it didn't come. Instead, I felt a strange warmth spread through my chest, a sense of rightness that I couldn't quite explain.
Cole gently pulled the door closed again, and we retreated a few steps down the hall.
"She chose him," I said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth despite my exhaustion. "After everything, she chose to be with him."
"She's healing," Cole agreed, his own relief evident in the relaxation of his shoulders.
"This is good, Ryder. This is progress." And it was.
Cade, who had been so broken, so traumatised that she flinched at the slightest unexpected touch, had willingly, deliberately sought comfort in physical intimacy, not just with anyone, but with Logan, the most complicated of her relationships, the one who had kept his distance since her rescue, consumed by his own guilt.
"We should let them sleep," I said, suddenly feeling lighter than I had in weeks. "But I want to do something for them. For her."
"Like what?" Cole asked, following me as I headed back downstairs, my steps buoyed by a new energy.
"Breakfast," I declared, striding purposefully toward the kitchen. "A proper fucking feast. Something to celebrate." Cole chuckled behind me, the sound rare enough these days to make me glance back at him.
"Ry, you’re fucking insane. You can barely make toast without setting off the fire alarm."
"Details," I waved dismissively, already pulling open the refrigerator. "How hard can it be? Eggs, bacon, pancakes... oh, and those fancy pastries Rosa bought yesterday. And fresh coffee. And orange juice. And-"
"Slow down," Cole said, amusement colouring his voice as he caught up to me. "Let me help before you burn the house down."
I grinned at him, feeling a manic energy building inside me, the kind that used to frighten people, but that Cole had always understood was just my way of processing emotions.
And right now, I was feeling so many emotions: relief that Cade was healing, happiness that she and Logan had found their way back to each other, pride that she had taken this step, and beneath it all, a simmering rage at everyone who had hurt her, who continued to hurt her.
"Fine," I conceded, handing him a carton of eggs. "You can be my sous chef."
"I think you mean I can be the actual chef while you create chaos," Cole corrected, but he was smiling, and for the first time in weeks, it reached his eyes.
We worked in companionable semi-silence for the next hour; me bouncing between tasks with frenetic energy while Cole methodically corrected my mistakes and prevented disasters.
I burned the first batch of bacon, set off the smoke detector twice, and nearly knocked over an entire carton of orange juice.
Still, by the time the sun was properly up, we had assembled what could generously be called a feast: slightly charred bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, thanks to Cole, a stack of pancakes with various degrees of doneness, the fancy pastries from the bakery, fresh coffee, and a fruit salad that I'd chopped with more enthusiasm than precision.
"Not bad," Cole admitted, surveying our work.
"Though I'm pretty sure Rosa's going to have a heart attack when she sees the state of her kitchen.
" I glanced around at the chaos we'd created, flour dusting every surface, eggshells scattered like confetti, a suspicious burn mark on one of the tea towels, and laughed.
"Worth it."
We were in the process of transferring the food to the dining room when we heard movement upstairs.
I froze, a plate of pancakes in each hand, suddenly uncertain.
What if Cade wasn't ready to face us? What if she regretted what had happened with Logan?
What if seeing us reminded her of everything she'd lost, everything that had been taken from her? Cole seemed to read my thoughts.
"It's going to be okay," he said quietly.
"Just be normal. That's what she needs right now.
" I nodded, forcing a casual smile as footsteps approached the stairs.
Logan appeared first, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, his dark hair tousled from sleep.
He paused when he saw us, his expression cycling through surprise, embarrassment, and finally settling on a cautious warmth.
"Morning," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. "You're back."
"Just in time for breakfast," I replied, lifting the plates of pancakes as evidence. "Made it myself."
"With significant intervention," Cole added dryly.
Logan's mouth quirked in a half-smile, but his eyes were searching ours, looking for judgment, for anger, for any sign that we resented what had happened between him and Cade.
I met his gaze steadily, letting him see that I was genuinely happy for them both.
A small movement behind Logan drew my attention, and there she was: Cade, wrapped in one of Logan's oversized hoodies, her purple hair, the hair Cole and I had so carefully dyed for her, tumbling around her shoulders in sleep-mussed waves.
She looked uncertain, vulnerable, but there was something else in her expression, too, a quiet strength that had been missing for too long.
"Hi," she said softly, her eyes darting between Cole and me, gauging our reactions.
"Morning, Poison," I replied, using the nickname that had evolved from an insult to a term of endearment.