Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
CADEN
After my brother crashed the most important moment of my life, he herded Emma and me into another abandoned meeting room, where James was already waiting.
Sean then retreated to Jackson’s room without further explanation, apparently deciding it was more important to keep the broody Orator updated than us, preferably at close range, where they could glare meaningfully into each other’s eyes.
So now the three of us were sitting there—walls cracked, ceiling stained, chairs probably older than all of us combined—waiting for Kanata C’s First Offensive to explain what the hell was so urgent.
As we waited, my mind kept replaying the moment Sean had interrupted. The way Emma had leaned toward me, the heat sparking in her gaze, then dipping to my mouth. One more second and I would’ve known exactly how she tasted. I’d almost had her.
My focus snagged on her now, and she immediately looked away, but not before I caught the flush climbing her cheeks. Scarlet, deep and startling, the exact shade of her haze. A color that was quickly becoming my favorite.
She was attracted to me. To me. Fuck, the way she’d said it. That charmingly awkward admission… Clear enough to wreck me for life.
I should’ve felt victorious. Instead, I felt restless. Stripped open. Like I’d been handed something I could never keep.
Now all I could do was sit there, hands clenched against my knees, pretending to study the cracks in the wall while my thoughts circled her mouth, her voice, the inch of space that had separated us before Sean had barged in.
Before I could break the silence—or my own head—the door burst open with a loud crack, and Rachel stormed in, her face a mix of confusion and urgency.
“Where the hell were you?”
I raised a brow. “We just came back from the hair salon. Walker had some braids done, and then we all went for a late afternoon stroll around the rose-garden to sniff the petals.”
Rachel’s attention snapped to me with fury. “Glad you’re feeling funny today. You know what’s not funny? The United Chiefs just portaled in. The High Chief wants a word with all three of you in private. So, tell me, what the hell did you do now?”
James’s gaze snapped to me, and I could see the tension coiling beneath the surface like violence on a hair trigger. “They’re not here to make dinner plans.”
“No,” I said quietly, my eyes on Emma. “They’re not.”
The latter blinked before her brows drew together in confusion. “Okay, why is this such a big deal? We’re on the brink of war with humans. They’re the magi’s military force, aren’t they? It’s not that weird they’d show up to check on the Collective closest to the bubble.”
I huffed out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “The United Chiefs were our military force. But after they killed off the entire Board of Directors—”
“You mean after the Board tried to use their Amplifier on me,” Emma cut in sharply.
I met her gaze and nodded once. “Yes. At Alliance. After they wiped the Board out of existence, they didn’t find us a new governing body. Didn’t even try. They simply seized ‘temporary’ control of the Magi World themselves and…never stepped down.”
Emma shrugged, still not seeing it. “Okay. So, they’re in charge of all of us. So what?”
James turned to face her fully. “Their control was never legitimate. It isn’t sanctioned by the Collectives, and it sure as hell isn’t backed by law. Which makes them afraid of anyone who can challenge them. Makes them nervous. Volatile. Dangerous.”
I stepped in. “And people like that don’t wait around to be threatened. They take the first shot. They hunt.”
Emma’s expression shifted. She stilled, her arms lowering to her sides as the weight of it landed. “You think they’re here for me?”
I hesitated, then glanced at James. He gave a small nod. “Yeah. If they found out about your translation, it’s not unlikely.”
Rachel’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, her translation?”
Shit. “He means how she survived the bubble,” I cut in quickly, hoping the First Offensive of this Collective wouldn’t press further.
A beat of silence passed between us.
Then Rachel exhaled loudly and closed her lids, pinching the bridge of her nose as if the stress physically hurt. “You know, I’m trying to remember a more peaceful time. Seems like that predates your arrival.”
I snorted. “You were bored anyway.”
She turned to me, the smile that followed careful but steady. “You might have a point.”
Emma’s jaw tensed, and her knuckles whitened around the edge of the table. She shot Rachel a look that could have frozen fire.
Was she…jealous?
Hell.
That did something to me I wasn’t very proud of.
Rachel’s focus lingered on me for a beat longer than necessary before she turned toward the door. “I’ll let them know you’re here.”
The door clicked shut behind her. The charged atmosphere in the room turned instantly into an almost living, breathing thing.
James started pacing the room, boots scuffing against the worn stone floor as Emma sat herself cross-legged on the edge of the table. Her fingers traced the faint lines of her Skindo-tattoo, while her face betrayed nothing but boredom.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to look as relaxed as possible, though the itch between my shoulder blades screamed trouble incoming.
The door creaked back open again, and the High Chief stepped in, commanding the room instantly.
Dressed in crisp black with the insignia of the United Chiefs gleaming on his shoulder, he carried the air of a middle-aged man who rarely heard the word no, his long, slightly crooked nose sharpening his already severe profile.
The thin line of his mouth suggested restraint rather than warmth, a face shaped by hardship and worn into something refined and unforgiving. His gaze swept over the room, landing on me last, lingering long enough to feel like a warning.
“James Walker, Caden Colt, and Ms. Emma Thompson,” he said, sounding rather amused somehow. “After having heard so much about you all, it is almost an honor to meet the three of you.”
Almost an honor. Asshole.
My eyes flicked to James, whose pacing stopped abruptly, and then to Emma, who was now watching the High Chief with veiled curiosity.
The man in charge of the entire Magi World strode to the table and took a seat across from Emma, while James and I instinctively moved to her sides. The shift wasn’t subtle, and the High Chief’s expression flickered with amusement, knowing exactly what he provoked.
His attention locked onto Emma, and every nerve in my body went on high alert.
“Judging by your friends' reactions,” the High Chief began, his voice calm but edged with a subtle challenge, “I’m guessing you think I’m here about your untraceable translation.”
Fuck.
The fact the United Chiefs knew about this, put me on serious edge.
“Clearly, these men don’t trust my good intentions.” His focus shifted from James, to me, lingering for a moment too long before returning to Emma. “Considering how our Board treated you in the past, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
I caught the flicker of Walker stiffening beside me, the weight of his suspicion echoing my own. Whatever “good intentions” the Chief claimed, I could feel him circling, angling closer to the real reason he was here, and I had the distinct, sinking sense that target was Emma.
The High Chief leaned back in his chair, his expression a mask of calm authority.
“You’ve become quite the topic of discussion, Ms. Thompson.
Your translation—untraceable and immensely powerful—has made you a target.
A very dangerous one. Humans and Collabs are coming for you, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. ”
“Collabs?” Emma’s question was clear.
“Collaborators,” he spat, the word dripping with contempt. “Magi who side with humans. They let themselves be studied, cut open, tested, controlled.”
His jaw tightened. “They think if humans understand us, they won’t fear us. That if we prove we can be managed, we’ll be allowed to exist.”
He scoffed. “The bubble over the US proves exactly how wrong they are.”
Emma’s lips pressed into a firm line, the fire in her eyes unflinching. “You’re saying the Collabs are responsible for the bubble?”
The High Chief snorted derogatorily, and I almost tore out his spine for disrespecting the most powerful woman on the planet. “If you know of any other magi willing to bubble in their own kind to protect humans, I’d love to hear it.”
“A bubble,” he continued without awaiting her answer, “I’ve been told you survived, even while projecting your haze?”
Emma didn’t blink, didn’t move, only stared him down with that razor-sharp focus that made a Canadian winter feel like a mild autumn breeze.
The High Chief’s nodded once. “I see. Any idea how that happened?”
“She was lucky,” James gritted out, his tone lethal enough to draw blood.
The Chief’s mouth curled, but it wasn’t a smile. “Lucky,” he repeated, tasting the word like it was foreign on his tongue. “I’ve heard you’ve been lucky many times now,” he furthered, sounding too smooth to trust. “Surviving an Amplifier. Different bouts of consummation.”
His gaze roamed over Emma, studying her as if she were some rare specimen. “Your so-called ‘luck’ is beginning to attract attention,” he murmured. “Which is precisely why I came here, to ensure you are making the right…decisions.”
Emma’s brow arched, the barest lift. “‘Right decisions’? What does that mean?”
“It means,” the High Chief said, “There are certain concerns about where your loyalties might eventually lie.”
My Chela manifested in my hand without me even thinking about it. One second my hand was empty, the next, cold metal was pressing against my palm. The jagged points glinted menacingly beneath the room's harsh lights.
His attention flicked to it briefly, then he raised a brow. “What a beautiful, banned weapon you have there, Mister Colt.”
My grip tightened around the handle, the metal humming faintly beneath my fingers. My voice remained calm, cold. “If you do not change your tone toward Miss Thompson, you’ll enjoy it a lot more up close and personal.”
He smirked, not the tiniest bit intimidated by my clear threat. Impressive, but foolish.
“You won’t need to use it,” the High Chief said, his gaze sliding lazily toward James. “Seeing Mister Walker at Emma’s side here, I realize our interests are already perfectly aligned.”
Emma’s face remained unreadable. “Aligned how, exactly?”
The High Chief leaned in slightly, as though about to share a secret meant for Emma alone.
“A few weeks ago, I met with Stephen Stone. He told me all about his excursions through the blue portal. The future he revealed swayed us against the Great Exposure, though his confession came too late. I’ll never understand why he waited until now to expose true human nature, but what’s done is done. ”
“We couldn’t stop the Exposure anymore, but we can still work to prevent a future where we are hunted into extinction.”
Then, almost imperceptibly, his tone softened. “He also told me of the Krait—your son, Alek—and the role he is destined to play in our survival.”
A flicker of fear crossed Emma’s face, gone as quickly as it came. Beside her, James’s jaw flexed, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
The High Chief’s eyes cut toward him, assessing. “When we learned of your relationship with Mr. Walker, we concluded it would be prudent—no, wise—for you to solidify the True Bond with your mate.”
“My mate?” Emma snapped, before narrowing her eyes into slits. “James and I broke up more than seven months ago. He’s not my mate, not even close.”
Fuck no, he’s not.
The High Chief only smiled faintly, brushing aside my outburst as if it were nothing.
“Semantics. The word mate doesn’t exist in our laws, of course, we all have free will.
But seeing how your son carries your loved one’s name, your current relationship status aside, we believe forming the True Bond with him would grant you and your son a protection even we cannot offer. ”
I snorted and crossed my arms over my chest. “Please don’t tell me the United Chiefs are convinced one of the most common first names in history somehow proves his fatherhood beyond all doubt?”
“We do,” he said simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “We believe it offers sufficient proof of her later choice, and we would feel…reassured if she were to solidify that choice now by bonding with the father of our savior.”
“Bullshit,” I spat, the word tearing out of me like venom. “There’s no way the United Chiefs are that easily swayed. You’re telling me you all believe Walker is the Krait’s father because of a shared first name?”
The High Chief’s expression twitched, annoyance flashing before his mask of authority slid back into place. “Yes. And if Miss Thompson wants to make sure no harm comes to her, her future son, or anyone else she might care for, she’d be wise to bond as we suggest.”
Emma blanched at the threat. Her knuckles whitened on the edge of the table as if she were bracing herself against the words.
Motherfucker. He knew exactly where to twist the knife. Between the grief she was barely holding at bay and the crushing fear of losing more people she loved, he’d found the perfect point of leverage.
I ground my teeth so hard it hurt, ready to decapitate the bastard where he stood—
Until Emma fucking Thompson rose to her feet.
“Let me be very clear, Mister High Chief with no name.” Her tone cut like ice, every syllable precise.
“I will not be manipulated into any choice. Not by you. Not by any man who feels entitled to dictate what I do with my body or my mind, in the present or in the future.”
The High Chief drew a breath, ready to contradict, but Emma lifted her hand, halting him mid-motion.
The gesture alone silenced one of the most powerful men in our world, and I was so turned on I couldn’t fucking see straight.
“As our governing body,” she furthered, “I understand the interest you might have in this matter, and I will gladly inform you of the ‘happy news’ once it occurs. However, I will not be forced into another True Bond. Not by you. Not by anyone else.”
Shit. James’s gaze collided with mine, looking alarmed, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing.
“Another True Bond, Miss Thompson?” the High Chief asked softly, though the weight behind his question was unmistakably threatening. “What do you mean, another?”