Chapter 73
SEVENTY-THREE
EMMA
It had been a week since the funerals from hell.
First Saoirse’s.
Then Stephen’s.
I barely realized how different the ones at Cyclos were from those at Crown.
More ritual, less quiet.
There were speeches. Burials. Fires.
But nothing ceremonial could possibly capture the scope of what we’d lost.
James somehow found the strength to give a beautiful farewell to Stephen. He stood at the front, hands clenched at his sides, voice steady but still forcing the words through his teeth.
He stared at Cara while he spoke. A lot. Like she was the only one holding him together.
And I was grieving.
Hard.
My sister was gone—her laughter that always cut through the worst days, her joy that filled every room she stepped into, her advice that somehow always landed exactly where I needed it, her friendship that had carried me through more battles than any weapon, her love that never wavered, not once, her brilliant mind, her softness, her sweetness—all of it ripped out of this world in a single, brutal moment.
She was gone.
And the sickening truth pounded at the inside of my skull with every breath I took: it was my fucking fault.
The first week after the battle, I was living in my own personal brand of hell, filled with grief and guilt.
It was a cruel kind of irony. I kept everyone out, pushed them away without hesitation… Then lay awake at night, aching from the quiet. Loneliness pressed in so sharply, I cried myself to sleep, clutching a pillow like it could hold me back together.
I was exhausted. Bone-deep, soul-crushing exhaustion. I was grief-sick. All I wanted, was the comfort of something familiar. Something safe.
I wanted to feel at home.
Home.
Such a simple concept. A basic human need, as natural as breathing.
Except when you don’t have one. Which I was rapidly realizing, I didn’t.
My home had always been with my parents, a safe place wrapped in warmth and familiarity. A home I’d obliterated with their corpses still warm inside it.
The grief for their loss was still a daily battle, an aching wound that never stopped bleeding, now enhanced by yet another loss.
I tried to focus on the positive side of things. At least I’d saved Jackson. And Nino.
When I’d moved into Cyclos, there had been people like them, who had done everything in their power to make me feel at ease.
But staring out the window in my old room only confirmed what I already knew: this place was hollow now. Stripped of comfort, and of any trace of the person I used to be.
A museum exhibit titled “Before the World Went to Shit.”
The only place I’d ever felt at home was…with Caden.
But choosing Caden…
I closed my eyes and dropped my forehead to the cold window. Choosing the man I loved, would prove to be the most selfish choice of all.
How could I ever allow myself to go back to Crown? I had been selfish before, and Saoirse had paid price.
But Caden… He was the one price I could never pay.
A knock on my door snapped me out of my pathetic spiral of chaotic thoughts.
“It’s open.” I didn’t bother to turn around, the shivers down my spine already told me who it was.
Caden’s voice was rough, like he hadn’t used it in days. “Got a minute?”
“No, I’m very busy staring out the window. Please refrain from interfering and delaying my goal of achieving absolutely nothing today.”
I could hear the smile in his tone. “I was coming to check on you, see how you were handling everything. But since you’ve rediscovered your sarcastic quips, I’m guessing you’re teetering on suicidal.”
I laughed—louder than I meant to—and turned toward him.
Big mistake.
There was no charming grin. Only a dark, unreadable gaze that seemed to take everything in: the circles under my eyes, the weight on my shoulders.
He looked like someone who hadn’t slept in a week. Probably because he hadn’t.
“You look pale.”
Okay. That’s not flattering. Asshole.
I huffed. “Yeah, well, you look like the ‘before’ picture in an energy drink ad.”
Caden didn’t reply before crossing the room in two smooth strides. His hand curled around my neck, his fingers threading into the nape of my hair as he angled my head toward him.
I sucked in the last bit of oxygen left in the room, my heart hammering in my chest at the sheer audacity of his action.
“No deflection. No sarcasm. No jokes,” he ordered, voice low and dangerous, every word razor-sharp.
“I mean it, Emma. I’m not asking you four times before I get a real answer.
I’ve kept my distance, like you asked. I’ve let you shut me out for a godsdamn week while I lost my fucking mind. So now, tell me. How. Are. You. Doing.”
My throat worked hard to swallow. I could feel the heat of his palm, the press of his thumb against my pulse. This was Caden. Calm, unyielding, cutting through my bullshit with terrifying accuracy.
“I…” My voice broke. I forced myself to say it, for once to just say it. “I’m feeling sad,” I whispered, slightly proud that I managed to name the feeling on the first try.
His eyes narrowed, fierce protectiveness flickering beneath the dark depths. “Why?”
“Because I’ve decided where I want to live for the foreseeable future.”
Caden clenched his jaw. “Emma…don’t you fucking dare…”
I closed my eyes, steadying the tremor in my hands. My chest was so tight it hurt to breathe. “I’ve made my decision, Caden. I’m staying here. At Cyclos.”
His laugh was bitter. “The hell you will.”
My eyes snapped open. “You don’t have a say in this.”
“The fuck I don’t.” His eyes burned into mine. “You are coming with me to Crown. And I’m not asking.” A dangerous glint flickered over his face. “You might have forgotten it, but you belong to me.”
“Excuse me?” My spine straightened, the words sharp with indignation.
“Don’t do that,” he growled, leaning in closer, his presence swallowing all the air between us.
“Don’t get defensive on me just because you feel like you’ve got something to prove.
I’m not here to strip you of your choices, Emma.
I’m here to make you see them. Your choice. Your consent. Your agency.”
His tone softened, but his gaze only darkened. “Choose to belong to me.”
His intensity burned through me, so raw, so consuming my legs nearly buckled. It was as if he could see straight into the parts of me I tried to keep hidden, the ones that craved what he was offering.
“Caden, please…” I whispered, equal parts terrified and desperate to hear him say it again.
“Belong to me, Emma,” he repeated, his voice dropping to a near whisper, each word a command that curled through my veins and set me alight. “Like I belong to you.”
My breath hitched. My heart slammed into my ribs so hard it hurt.
“But the future—”
“Fuck the future,” Caden growled. “Choose me.”
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding against my ribs as I battled the instinct to push back, to fight him, to fight myself.
“I can’t,” I whispered, trembling but resolute.
His expression hardened instantly. “Why the hell not?”
“Because you die if I do!” The words tore out of me. “You fucking die if I choose you.”
Caden stilled for a single second.
Then he moved.
His hands were steady and firm when he grabbed my face, wiping the near tears with his thumb with almost painful tenderness. “I don’t care, Thompson, do you hear me? I don’t fucking care. I’d rather live a short life with you, than not live at all.”
I shook my head as I shoved him off me. “You’d be dead because of my choice.”
“Then let it be mine,” he growled. “Let me choose this, let me choose you. Let me choose us.”
I nearly broke as I took a step back. “Caden, you’re the one price I could never pay.”
He shook his head once, jaw tight. “You’re scared—”
“Well, can you blame me?” I shouted, the words ripping out of me before I could stop them.
My hands came up in a helpless gesture, despair lacing every syllable.
“The thought of losing you steals every single inch of air from my lungs, Caden. Do you have any idea what that feels like? I can’t fucking breathe—”
My chest heaved, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
In one stride, he closed the distance.
Caden grabbed my face between his hands again, forcing me to look at him.
“You think I don’t know what that feels like?”
His voice dropped, rougher now. “You think I haven’t been choking on that same fear?”
His eyes were dark as he leaned closer, unguarded in a way I’d almost never seen. “Fuck, Emma, you have no idea what you mean to me.”
His grip tightened slightly. “I used to think you’d ruined me.” A beat. “But I was wrong.”
One of his hands slid from my face to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair as if he needed the contact. “You didn’t ruin me.”
His forehead pressed to mine, grounding, claiming. “You rewrote me.”
He pulled back enough to look at me again. “You took me apart piece by piece and rebuilt me from the wreckage—no mercy, no shortcuts—until I didn’t recognize the man staring back anymore. You made me new, Emma.”
His touch lingered at my cheekbones.
“You turned the man who has always stayed in control into someone who forgets how to breathe when you whisper his name.” His mouth curved faintly, almost incredulous. “Someone whose pulse stutters just from the weight of your presence.”
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve faced armies without flinching, yet you undo me with a look.”
His hand slid down my arm, fingers curling around my wrist like he was making sure I stayed right there.
“You thought I was the villain of your story,” he continued quietly, “and you still found the strength to forgive me. You fell for me before you even knew the truth about Coastal. While you fought every instinct pulling you toward me, you saw through the lies long before you understood what they were.”
He lifted our joined hands between us and pressed his lips to my open palm. “You saw me. The real me. The man beneath the masks, the blood, the sins I wear like armor.”