Chapter 51 #2
Which meant that if we wanted to stand against them, we had to build alliances so quietly, so politely, and so indirectly no one could accuse us of forming alliances.
Because the moment we asked for support outright, it wouldn’t look like defense anymore.
It would look like mere rebellion.
And that alone could trigger the war we were trying to prevent.
Second, the Chiefs were cunning bastards, professional chess players in a world full of people still trying to find the rulebook.
They’d spent months gathering their own alliances, all under the noble banner of “protecting the Magi World from humans.” And, shocker, every Collective had seemed to nod along like obedient sheep.
They had been consolidating power, ensuring when the real battle lines were drawn, every Collective would stand with them no matter who they pointed at as the enemy.
It was manipulative. It was brilliant. And it was exactly why this whole thing had to be handled with the delicacy of defusing a bomb with mittens on.
Which, frankly, wasn’t anyone’s strong suit.
Not mine.
Not Caden’s.
Definitely not James’s.
We were basically the worst possible team to trust with subtlety, which is where Jackson came in and saved the fucking day.
Condensing Rachel’s incendiary speech into something more diplomatic, he spent days reaching out to his Orator contacts across the globe, many of whom were more than eager to hear about the United Chiefs’ illegitimate grip on power.
Meanwhile, Rachel fixed our third problem: Vincent Strazzo.
Leader of Kanata C.
The man who had negotiated—for months—with the Canadian prime minister, convincing Canada to open its human borders to all magi, by promising in return to tear down the Protective Layers so that humans could walk around the Metasphere without restriction.
A historic, idealistic, groundbreaking decision…which now had to be reversed.
Because, unfortunately, the world had caught fire since then, and we couldn’t risk the Chiefs slipping across our borders like they owned the place.
The only way to stop them was to put the Layers back up, this time with translation woven so tightly the United Chiefs themselves would bounce off it like flies hitting a window.
Not exactly a small request.
Luckily, Rachel was a woman of her word, and apparently also a political sledgehammer. She advocated for us with such relentless force Vincent agreed to re-erect the Layers fast enough to give us whiplash.
And, somehow, she even convinced the Canadian Human World—the same one that had just opened its borders to magi—to back us against our own governing power.
It was absurd.
It was miraculous.
It was probably the first real crack in the Chiefs’ carefully crafted throne.
The plan was deceptively simple. Easy, even.
Step one: I’d contact the United Chiefs myself and tell them exactly what they were not expecting to hear: I’d reconsidered the deal and wouldn’t bond with James.
Step two: I’d leverage their own obsession against them. I’d force them into a new deal that would secure my freedom, would keep James and Caden out of it, and still feed their delusion they were supervising whatever pregnancy they so desperately wanted from me.
Step three: if they refused, threatened, or tried to push again, the Layers would already be rebuilt.
Reinforced.
Rewritten so they wouldn’t be able to set foot in Kanata C again, let alone strong-arm us into obedience.
And step four: in the unlikely event they managed to breach the Layers anyway, Slava was on standby and would portal in the moment I nexed them, an entire Collective dropping in like a warhead the Chiefs couldn’t possibly defeat.
It was a simple plan.
Precise.
Deadly in its efficiency.
And in its stupidity.
By the time Caden and I portaled back to my room, the sun had already dipped low, bathing the walls in soft amber light. It softened the edges of everything, made the world feel quieter, slower, like it had shifted into a gentler gear just for us.
Caden collapsed onto my bed first and tugged me down with him before I’d fully finished changing for the night.
He wrapped himself around me from behind, his chest pressed to my spine, his legs tangled with mine like he had no intention of letting me go anywhere.
His breath ghosted over the back of my neck, the kind that only came after hours of relentless planning, hard choices, and holding too much together for too long.
I nudged him gently with my elbow. “You okay?”
He hummed into my shoulder, the sound vibrating through me. “Mm. Tired.”
I smiled to myself. “Did the great Mister Colt underestimate what it would be like to really fight for this relationship?” I teased, wiggling my ass back just enough to make my point.
“Trust me, Nightcrawler.” His hand slid along my waist, splaying across my stomach as he pulled me closer. “There’s nothing I’d rather fight for.”
The words lit something disgustingly mushy in my chest. “I know,” I said quietly. “This is worth it.”
“We are worth it,” he corrected, pressing a slow, smug kiss to the curve of my neck. “And once we’ve dealt with these fuckers, there’s nothing stopping us from building whatever comes next.”
He tucked his face into my hair. “Right before we make a baby that saves the rest of our kind.”
A laugh slipped out of me, quiet, disbelieving, a little breathless. “Already preparing to be rather demanding parents, are we?”
“Not demanding,” he said calmly. “Just parents.”
I rolled over to face him, our noses nearly brushing. His hair was a slight mess, his eyes soft in a way that made something embarrassingly tender curl in my chest.
“Today was…” I searched for a word that didn’t sound too fragile or too enormous. “A lot.”
His hand came up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing along my cheekbone in a slow, grounding sweep. “Are you okay?”
I let my forehead fall against his. “Better than okay,” I whispered. “I’m…happy. And that’s only because of you.”
He went still for a fraction of a second.
I pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “Every time the world falls apart beneath my feet, you make me feel like I can survive anything. I’ve never had that before. So…thank you.”
The words came out clear and steady, raw in a way that made my own chest ache.
Caden went rigid.
His hand cradling my jaw stopped mid-stroke, thumb freezing against my cheekbone like someone had cut the world’s sound. His gaze locked onto mine: darker, but more open than I’d ever seen it. There was no shield. No sarcasm. No walls. Just him.
Then his mouth parted.
Slowly.
Like he was about to give me something he’d been holding in his teeth for months. Something fragile. Something alive. The kind of truth that rewrote people.
“Emma,” he murmured, voice rough, reverent. “I fucking lo—”
His Nexus detonated with light.
A flash of blue drops burst between us, buzzing so sharply the vibration trembled through the mattress.
I blinked a few times against the flashy light. “What the hell?”
He glanced down at the Nexus, tension coiling through his shoulders like a pulled bowstring. “It’s Walker.” His jaw clenched. “Wants to talk. Seems urgent.”
I cupped his face for a heartbeat, pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. “Go. I’ll be here when you get back.”
His eyes lifted to mine—and something flickered there before he kissed me back—hard, and fast, almost desperate—then pushed off the bed in one fluid motion and was out the door a second later.
The room fell quiet as I sank back into the pillows, with a smile tugging at my lips.