Chapter 48 #2
She stared at me like she didn’t know where she was. Like I was a ghost. Her chest heaved, her lips trembled, and then the first tear slipped free.
“Caden?” she whispered, reaching for me, but then flinched, like she wasn’t sure if I was real.
And then the dam finally broke.
She curled in on herself, shoulders shaking, the sobs silent at first, then full-bodied and raw. The kind of crying that came from deep, unhealed places.
“Fuck,” I muttered, as I dragged her closer, rolling her into me until her body lined up with mine.
She melted into me like her bones had stopped working.
Like she’d been waiting for someone to come tear down the wall she’d been bracing against for too long.
I slid an arm under her head and wrapped the other around her back, gripping her like I could squeeze the pain out of her if I held her tight enough.
She buried her face in my chest as the sobs came harder, louder, and messier. Her hands fisted in my shirt, clutching at me like she needed something real to hold onto or she’d drown.
I held her. Fiercely. Without space. Without apology.
My jaw was tight, my pulse hammering, and every muscle in my body locked like I was holding the weight of her grief myself.
She didn’t have to survive this alone. Not tonight, or ever. Not as long as I was alive.
After what felt like a lifetime, her sobs started to slow. One breath at a time. Shaky. Shallow. But there.
Still clinging to me.
Still breathing.
And then—
“I can’t unsee it.”
The words were barely audible, but I heard them. Felt them. Like they were carved straight into my heart.
“I can’t unsee them dying,” she whispered, falling apart at the edges. “Every time I close my eyes, I’m right back there. With those people—those monsters—killing my parents. I can’t stop it. I can’t prevent it. I’m just there. Watching them die.”
Her whole body shook against mine. Not the panicked tremors from before, but something slower. Sicker. Grief settling in her bones like rot.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry.
“They came for me. My parents paid the price because they wanted to protect me.”
I pulled her closer. Tighter. Like if I held her hard enough, I could force the memories to back off. I buried my face in her hair, breathed her in like her scent was my oxygen.
“I thought they were over. I thought the nightmares were done. How am I ever going to sleep again?”
It wasn’t rhetorical.
She wasn’t just venting, she was really asking. As if I could fix this. As if I had the answer.
Little did she know…I did.
I exhaled slowly. “When my parents were murdered…”
Her head jerked back, eyes locking onto mine, so bright I could see their blue color even in the dark.
“It took me a year to avenge them,” I said, voice low and rough. “A year to find out exactly who was responsible…and to end them.”
Emma swallowed hard. “You never told me about that.”
“I don’t tell anyone.”
She nodded, a flicker of understanding in her gaze. “What happened?”
I let out a slow breath, my smile more shadow than warmth. “Nothing I can tell you now without adding to your nightmares.” I paused, watching her carefully. “All I’ll say is avenging them did help. It didn’t take away the pain, but it soothed the rage.”
Emma’s expression softened. She lifted a hand and brushed her fingers along the scar in my neck, gentle, careful, like she was afraid I might break if she pressed too hard.
“Is that why you fight at night?” she asked quietly. “Because you can’t sleep either?”
I nodded, startled she’d pieced that together so fast. “Yeah. The adrenaline drones out the…”
The rest snagged in my throat, sharp as barbed wire. One second, I was talking, the next it was like something inside me clamped shut. Not because I didn’t want her to know—hell, I did—but because dragging those memories into the open felt like scraping at a scar that still bled underneath.
I forced out a breath. “It helps,” I managed, the words thin and uneven. Anything more and I’d split myself open on it.
In true Emma fashion, she gave me a small, understanding smile. No pressure, no prying. Only quiet acceptance.
She was silent for a moment, then whispered, “I want to do the same. I want to find the people responsible, and avenge my parents, but it almost feels impossible.”
“You need to research it more properly,” I said, back in control. “It took me a year to build up a whole network to get the intel I needed.”
She stilled. Let that sink in.
Then nodded slowly. “Building a network. Sources.”
“Yes.”
“Will you help me?”
I reached out and gently took her chin between my fingers, lifting her face until her gaze met mine.
“Always.”
A small smile touched her lips. The tears that had streaked her cheeks had finally dried, leaving only the softness in her expression.
“Thank you for telling me. About your parents.”
“Of course, love. Now sleep,” I murmured, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “My unbreakable Nightcrawler.”
She leaned in, and her lips touched mine, soft at first. A whisper. Only the barest brush. But then, her tongue found my own in a slow, searching slide that sent heat pulsing through every inch of me.
She kissed me like we had all the time in the world. Like there was no fear, no world outside the bed, only this. Her lips against my lips. Her breath in my lungs.
Her kiss was softer than I expected, but unrelenting. Focused. Like she was still figuring out what it meant to be in control and determined not to waste a second of it.
And I let her. I let her set the pace, let her explore, let her take. I gave her everything. Every inch of stillness, every heartbeat thundering in my chest.
Every instinct screamed at me to say it, to finally speak the words that had been true for almost a year.
Three words. Eight letters.
Simple as breath, dangerous as confession.
They sat heavy on my tongue every time she touched me, every time I looked at her.
And every damn time, I had to choke them back, because saying them too soon might break the very thing I was trying to protect.
When she broke away, her forehead pressed to mine, lips swollen, heavy-lidded, she whispered, “Thank you,” so close I could feel the shape of the words against my mouth.
I stilled, every muscle in my body catching in the silence that followed. “For what?”
She opened her eyes, and what I saw in them made my throat tighten.
“For making me feel in control again,” she said.
My arms tightened around her instinctively. “Nightcrawler…”
But she shook her head, then leaned down one more time and brushed her lips against mine, soft, tender, sealing the moment.
Not demanding, not urgent, but honest. Like a promise wrapped in silence. Like something that meant more because it wasn’t trying to be more than it was.
Then she curled into my chest like it was the only place in the world she felt safe and fell back asleep.