Chapter Twenty-Five
XADEN
The monster is loose.
He has free reign to deliver total annihilation and I’m done holding him back.
I line up another shot, my entire body vibrating with rage that's been festering for two years.
Two years of searching for answers.
Two years of torture, blood and darkness.
Two years of trusting the wrong fucking person.
The puck flies from my stick with brutal precision, catching Cas in the shoulder. He roars in pain, the sound echoing through the rink like a death knell.
And I feel everything.
Satisfaction. Fury. Vindication.
The beautiful symphony of betrayal being repaid.
“Xaden, stop!” Toren's scream cuts through the air, but it only fuels me further.
I'm already gathering another puck.
“Please!” Her voice cracks with desperation. “You're going to kill him!”
“Perfect,” I say coldly, lining up my shot. “The cunt deserves it.”
I shoot again. This time catching Cas in the thigh.
He collapses completely, gasping for air, blood seeping through his clothes from where the impacts have split skin and broken bone.
“Xaden, he was blackmailed!” Toren screams, trying to crawl toward Cas. “He didn't have a choice!”
“There's always a choice!” I roar, the words tearing from my throat like shrapnel. “He chose to betray me! He chose to feed information to that bitch! He chose to play me for a fucking fool while I trusted him!”
I gather another puck, the weight of it satisfying in my palm.
“How long?” My voice drops to something deadly quiet as I skate closer to them. “How long have you been feeding Fiona information, Cas?”
Cas's head lifts, blood trickling from his mouth. “Xaden—”
“How long!” I scream, and the sound that comes out of me is pure rage.
“A year,” he gasps, and the admission is like a knife between my ribs. “She's had me for about a year.”
The world goes red.
A year.
For an entire year, he's been whispering my secrets to my enemy while standing at my side like a brother.
“A year,” I repeat, my voice like ice. “You've been betraying me for a year. Every plan I made. Every move I considered. Every vulnerability I showed you—you gave it all to her.”
The darkness inside me spreads, consuming everything in its path like wildfire.
And I don't fight it.
I embrace it.
“Do you know what she used that information for?” I continue, skating in a slow circle around them like a predator. “She used it to stay ahead of me. To protect the truth about that night. To keep me chasing ghosts while the real killer walked free.”
I stop directly in front of Cas, looking down at him with absolute contempt.
“But here's what really pisses me off,” I say quietly, dangerously.
“You found out the same night I did at the house about Masen, didn't you?
You didn't tell me about your deal with the CIA then because you were protecting yourself.
Not because you didn't have a choice. But because telling me would have meant admitting you'd been compromised.”
Cas's eyes widen slightly—confirmation.
“You chose, in that moment, to keep your mouth shut about Fiona rather than help me finally get justice for Em.”
“It’s not what you think, I couldn’t—” Cas starts.
“You could,” I snarl. “You just didn't want to face the consequences of your betrayal.”
I gather another puck, but before I can shoot, Toren throws herself over Cas's body.
“No!” she screams. “If you're going to shoot someone with that puck, shoot me! I'm the one who lied to you! I'm the one who kept his file from you! Shoot me, Xaden!”
Her body is shaking violently, but she doesn't move. Doesn't cower.
She's protecting him.
Protecting the rat who betrayed me.
“Move,” I growl.
“No.”
“Move, Toren, or I put this puck through your fucking skull,” I say flatly, meaning every word.
“Then do it,” she snaps back, and there's fire in her eyes now. Not fear—fury. “Prove you're the monster you claim to be. Shoot a pregnant woman protecting someone she cares about. Add it to your list of atrocities.”
The words are designed to cut, and they do.
“You think I won't?” I skate closer, towering over her. “You think I'm going to have some moment of clarity? Some sudden attack of conscience?”
“I think you're full of shit,” she says bluntly. “I think you hide behind this monster persona because you're too terrified to feel anything real. Too scared to admit you might actually care about something other than revenge.”
“You don't know shit,” I snarl.
“Don't I?” She tilts her head, studying me with those sharp eyes. “Then shoot. Stop talking about it and do it, Xaden. Prove me wrong.”
The challenge hangs in the air between us.
And I hate—hate—that she's calling my bluff.
“Everyone thinks someone hurt me and made me this way,” I say, my voice dropping to something dark and honest. “They think I'm broken. Damaged. A victim of circumstance.”
I crouch down so I'm eye level with her, letting her see the truth in my eyes.
“But that's not it, is it?” I whisper. “I was always like this. Em's death didn't break me, it just gave me permission to stop pretending I was anything else.”
“Bullshit,” Toren says flatly.
I blink, surprised by her bluntness.
“That's complete and utter bullshit,” she continues, her voice hard.
“You want me to believe you were born a monster?
Fine. But I've seen you, Xaden. I've seen the way you look when you think no one's watching. The way you touched me like I was something precious. The way you choose to protect me but say it’s because you are the only person who gets to kill me. Share my misery in pain but it’s all lies.”
Heat floods my face—anger and something else I refuse to name.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” I lie.
“Yes, you do.” Her voice is certain. “You're not the monster you pretend to be. You're just a man who's too scared to admit he wants something other than revenge. You’re terrified to open your heart again because you fear losing someone else you care about.”
“You want to know the truth about who I am?” I snarl, standing back up.
“I don't regret torturing your father. I don't regret killing Meekan.
I don't regret any of it, because in this world, there are no innocent people. Everyone has blood on their hands. Everyone deserves what they get. Your brother will get the same treatment when he arrives.”
“Including me?” she challenges. “Including your baby?”
“That thing inside you is a complication,” I say coldly. “A mistake I told you to fix.”
“Stop calling our baby a thing!” she screams, and the raw pain in her voice actually makes me flinch. “It's a child, Xaden! Your child! And you can pretend you don't care all you want, but I know better!”
“You know nothing—”
“I know you're scared!” She cuts me off. “I know you're terrified of losing someone else so you push everyone away first! I know you lie awake at night thinking about Emery, Miles and Neave! I know you blame yourself for not being there when they died!”
“Shut up—”
“I know you want this baby even though it terrifies you!” she continues, her voice rising.
“I know you want me even though you think you don't deserve me!
And I know you're standing here trying to decide if killing Cas will make the pain stop or if it'll just add to the guilt that's eating you alive!”
“Shut up!” I roar, and the sound echoes through the rink like a gunshot.
Silence falls.
We stare at each other, both breathing hard, both refusing to look away.
“You don't get to psychoanalyze me,” I say, my voice dangerously low. “You don't get to pretend you understand what I've been through. What I've lost. What I've become.”
“Then tell me I'm wrong,” she challenges. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel anything for our baby. For me. Tell me you're completely numb, empty and dead inside.”
I open my mouth to do exactly that.
But the words won't come.
Because she's right.
God help me, she's right.
I do feel something for the baby. For her. Things I have no business feeling. Things that make me weak and vulnerable… and fucking human.
And I hate it.
I hate that she can see through my walls. That she refuses to accept the monster I present to the world. That she keeps pushing and prodding until she finds the cracks in my armor.
“I’m giving you one chance to move,” I say instead, my voice hollow. “After that, I shoot through you to get to him.”
“No, you won't,” she says, but this time there's less certainty in her voice.
“Try me.”
For a long moment, we're locked in a stalemate.
Then Cas speaks, his voice rough with pain.
“Terror... move.”
We both look at him, surprised.
“He's right,” Cas continues, struggling to push himself up slightly. “I deserve this. I betrayed him. I've been lying for too long. I chose to trust the wrong person before I found him and learned what a true brother is..”
“Cas—” Toren starts.
“Move,” he repeats firmly. “This is between him and me. Not you.”
Something like respect flickers through me.
At least he's willing to face the consequences of his actions.
Toren looks between us, clearly torn.
“If I move,” she says slowly, “you'll kill him.”
“Probably,” I agree.
“Then I'm not moving.”
“For fuck's sake, Terror!” Cas snaps, and there's real anger in his voice now. “Stop trying to save everyone! You're pregnant! You shouldn't even be here! Get off the fucking ice before he hurts you too!”
“I'm not leaving you to die!”
“I'm not asking you to leave me to die,” Cas grits out. “I'm asking you to trust that maybe—just maybe—Xaden isn't going to kill me. Because if he wanted me dead, I'd already be dead.”
The observation is accurate.
If I really wanted Cas dead, I would have put a puck through his skull by now.
Instead, I've been breaking bones. Causing pain. Making him suffer.
But not killing him.
Toren must realize this too because her eyes narrow.
“Why?” she asks, looking at me. “If you want him dead, why is he still breathing?”
“Because death is mercy,” I say coldly. “And I'm not feeling very merciful.”
“Bullshit,” she says again. “You could make him suffer and still kill him. But you're not. Why?”
I don't answer.