Chapter 63
SIXTY-THREE
CADEN
The moment Maurice’s memory slammed into me, it felt like being dropped into a new reality.
One blink and Cyclos was gone.
Instead, I stood in a cavernous marble hall, Stephen in front of me, not seen through his eyes, but reconstructed, positioned exactly where Maurice remembered him standing.
“Because the future is subjective,” Stephen was saying, his voice measured but taut. “Every choice opens a path. And every path carries its own consequences.”
The High Chief’s fingers curled slowly against the armrest while a flicker of tension settled into the lines of his face. “You jumped to the future again.”
Stephen gave a small nod, almost reluctantly. “Yes. Several times. And since Emma Thompson severed all romantic ties with James Walker, new variables have entered the equation.”
“Such as the Krait’s father?” the Chief asked.
Stephen hesitated, only for a second, but it was enough. “Yes. Emma and Caden…” His jaw tightened, teeth grinding before he spoke again. “They are becoming increasingly inevitable.”
The High Chief raised a single brow, looking both unbothered and unimpressed. “You don’t approve of their relationship.”
The man I had once looked up to—my mentor, and one of the most talented Specialists—closed his eyes.
Not in dismissal, but like the truth physically hurt to say.
“Caden is like a son to me,” he said, his tone stripped of its usual certainty. “I watched him grow up. I taught him how to survive. And if those two keep walking the road they’re on…”
When Stephen’s eyes opened again, they were heavy with resignation, steeped in a dread so deep it looked practiced.
“Every jump,” he said quietly. “Every thread I follow ends the same way. In every future where Emma lets herself fall for Caden…”
His voice faltered.
“He dies.”
What?
The High Chief furrowed his brow. “Caden Colt dies?”
Stephen nodded slowly. “The future isn’t a single line.
It’s a web: branches splitting from every choice, each one spawning consequences that echo forward.
” He drew a steadying breath. “Emma’s choice of whom to love is not a small decision.
It’s a linchpin. One choice locks an entire path into place. ”
He lifted his gaze again, eyes dark with it. “Before Emma and James broke apart, that path was indistinct. But now… If she decided to build a future with Caden, then yes, the Krait will come into existence. And Caden will be the father.”
His jaw tightened. “But that same sequence of events leads to Caden’s death.”
The High Chief tipped his head in quiet consideration. “You’re saying the child exists because Colt dies?”
“I’m saying the choice that brings the Krait into the world also seals his father’s fate,” Stephen replied. “You cannot untangle one without unraveling the other. In every future where Emma loves Caden, I lose my son.”
The High Chief let out a short, humorless sigh. “That’s tragic, truly. But I fail to see what this has to do with us.”
Stephen set his shoulders, his posture firming with quiet intent. “You are the United Chiefs. You are the only governing body we have left. You could save Crown’s First Offensive in a time of war. That is hardly trivial.”
He let the words settle, then continued, voice gaining weight. “If you were to intervene—ensure James Walker ends up with Emma Thompson instead of Caden—then the future could still be altered.”
The High Chief gave a slight shake of his head, already looking tired of the argument.
“Which would also ensure there would be no Krait, since you’ve just told me Caden Colt is his father.
And I cannot force magi to bond, if that is in fact what you are suggesting.
I’m sorry for your future loss, Stephen, but if Ms. Thompson has chosen Colt, I see neither a way—nor reason—to interfere. ”
Stephen didn’t look defeated upon hearing this… No, he looked prepared.
“You could lie,” he said evenly. “Tell people James Walker is the Krait’s father. Demand Emma and James bond for the survival of our kind. That would derail the sequence, fracture the path enough to change everything.”
The High Chief barked a short laugh. “Setting aside the fact we have no interest in playing such games, that lie would unravel within hours.”
Stephen shook his head once. “They have no Specialist among them. No one capable of verifying it.”
The High Chief’s expression hardened. “And what proof would we present? Every future you’ve told us about points to Caden Colt as the father.”
Stephen met his gaze and lowered his tone.
“What if I told you,” he said quietly, “the Krait’s first name is Alek, and that James Walker’s real first name is Aleksander?”
The High Chief’s impatience rang clear in his voice. “That is hardly proof of anything. I see no cause to revisit my decision. This matter is closed, mister Stone.”
Stephen smiled then, but there was no warmth in it. Only slyness.
“What if I told you the same path where Emma chooses Caden,” he said slowly, “the same path where he fathers her child, the same path where he dies…”
He paused, letting the silence tighten.
“Is also the path where you die.”
The High Chief straightened his spine, suddenly fully alert. “What do you mean, I die?”
“Not just you personally,” Stephen replied, sounding almost clinical. “All of you. Every United Chief.”
His gaze locked onto the Chief’s.
“As I said, Emma’s choice is the linchpin. That path leads directly to your deaths. The end of the United Chiefs. A governing body that will never rise again.”
“Bullshit,” the High Chief snarled. “You have no proof of this.”
Stephen’s mouth curved, thin and humorless. “Oh, but I do. And if you’re willing to jump with me through one of my portals, I can show you exactly how I found out.”
The High Chief’s jaw tightened, fingers dragging slowly across his chin as silence stretched. Calculation flickered behind his eyes.
“And you’re certain?” he asked at last.
Stephen didn’t answer with words.
He lifted his hand.
A blue portal tore open beside him, hissing as it split the air like a fresh wound, light spilling out, unstable and humming with promise and threat alike.
“Jump with me,” my so-called father figure said quietly. “Let me show you.”
The High Chief hesitated, only a heartbeat.
Then he stepped forward.
And the world ripped sideways.
We now found ourselves in a dense forest, shadows carving across the ground as branches whipped against my skin.
Ahead, a future version of Emma and myself tore through the undergrowth, chased, or maybe chasing.
Her hair was darker, streaked with fierce red and gold, more lioness than ever.
The other me looked exactly the same. Rugged, handsome, cocky, and invincible.
We trailed after them, watching as they carved through branches like they owned the damn forest.
“Stop worrying,” Caden tossed over his shoulder.
“Stop rifling through my head,” Emma shot back, glaring.
“Can’t help it. It’s loud in there,” Caden quipped without missing a step.
“Well maybe if you respected the concept of privacy—”
“There is no privacy between us, woman. You didn’t want that, remember?” My future self winked, the smug bastard.
“They formed the True Bond?” the High Chief asked Stephen.
The latter nodded, tight-lipped. “They did, though I couldn’t find out when exactly.”
Emma halted so abruptly the undergrowth rustled around her boots, branches brushing back into place as tension rippled through her frame. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
Caden pushed past a low-hanging branch, letting it snap softly behind him, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You always do.”
She glared at him. “I’m serious.”
“Remember when we took down the United Chiefs?” he asked lightly. “You had a bad feeling then too. And we killed every single one of them in what? A few hours?”
Emma huffed, clearly unconvinced.
“Baby,” he went on, softer now but no less confident, “you always have a bad feeling. Odds are, one day you’ll be right. Today’s not that day.”
She grabbed his arm and spun him around, forcing him to face her. “What if we’re wrong about this?”
“We’re not.”
Her voice cracked anyway. “Caden, I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t.”
“Swear to me,” she whispered. “Swear you’ll survive this.”
“I swear, my love.” His grin tilted, edged with some kind of careless amusement (which was reckless, in my opinion). “I swear on…well, definitely not my life since that would be rather counterproductive.”
“Fucking asshole,” she muttered before she smacked his arm.
“Correction,” he said smoothly. “Devastatingly handsome fucking asshole.” His brows kicked up, a glint of mischief cutting through the dark. “Don’t deprive me of my hard-earned titles, Nightcrawler.”
Emma didn’t take the bait. She bit the inside of her cheek instead, a small, familiar crack in her armor. The telltale sign she was worrying herself raw.
Caden’s smirk finally faded.
“Hey.” He leaned in, his tone dropping to something rougher, steadier, meant only for her. “Wifey.” The word slipped out half-tease, half-prayer. “You are my life. You’ve got me chained, heart, body, and soul. As long as you’re here, I’m here. Got it?”
Her lips trembled. “Pretty words don’t mean shit if you get yourself killed.”
“Such a romantic,” he chided, though his hand tightened around hers.
“Fuck, Caden, I’m serious!”
“So am I.” His smirk flared again. “And when we survive this—and we will—you’re finally taking me out for a proper dinner. With wine. Maybe flowers. Because gods know you’re a disaster at romance, and I deserve to be wined and dined. Just…don’t cook it yourself.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she couldn’t hide the quiver in her voice. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll survive this.”
“I promise.” He kissed her hard, lingering. When he pulled back, his grin turned dangerous. “Trust me. Trust my judgment. I’m annoyingly good at survival.”
Emma shuddered, as if fighting a shiver down her spine, but nodded. “Okay.”
The trees finally broke, and the world opened into a clearing that wasn’t a clearing at all.