Chapter 32 #2
One by one, the others collapsed, each face echoing the last—features twisted in terror, mouths gaping in silent, futile pleas as Emma’s haze swallowed them whole.
It wasn’t a fight anymore; it was an execution.
I watched, as she tore through the hostiles with a ferocity I’d never seen before. Her face was a mask of concentration, her jaw set in determination. She didn’t just fight—she obliterated, her every move driven by a single, unyielding purpose: to protect me. And fuck, that did something to me.
By the time the mist receded, only a few were left standing, their confidence shattered, fear now written in every step they took.
“Retreat!” one of the Radicals shouted, his voice filled with rage and desperation.
He tried to rally his comrades, but it was too late.
They were scattered, their formation broken, and Emma was relentless.
With a fierce cry, Emma launched herself into the fray. Her Skindo-blades were a blur, following her lead, and obliterating anyone who dared to come near. She cut through them like a scythe through wheat, her movements almost too fast to follow.
The battle was over in minutes, the last of the them falling to the ground with a dull thud. The world fell silent, and the only sound left was the heavy breathing of the two of us.
Emma turned to me, her features softening as she took in my condition. “Caden, you’re hurt,” she said, as she rushed to my side.
“I’ll be fine,” I grunted, struggling to come back upright. “Just need to get back to Crown and see a Healer.”
“Where are you hurt?” she asked, her voice tense.
“My chest. This asshole blasted me with some poisonous crap.”
Emma stared at me for a second, then without warning, she tore my shirt open.
“Wow, easy tiger. Now’s not the time for sexual advances,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. “But if you want to continue this after we get back, I won’t complain.”
“You’re an incorrigible flirt,” she growled, her focus entirely on my injury as she patted down my sternum with two fingers, searching for the source of the pain.
“Emma,” I said hoarsely, trying to catch her gaze, “you can’t fix me. I need to get to a Healer.”
“Shut up for a second, will you?” she snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument.
She continued prodding along my ribcage with determined fingers until she found what she was looking for, her hand stilling, as realization caught up with her.
My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when she began to translate some kind of golden energy into the entry wound.
I watched in disbelief as she closed her lids, focusing intensely.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. What she was doing was impossible, yet there was no mistaking it—I could feel it instantly. She was fucking healing me.
In less than thirty seconds, it was over. The pain was gone, replaced by a surge of vitality that made me feel better than ever before. I jumped to my feet, my breathing ragged, staring at her wide with shock.
“How?” I breathed, reeling from what had just happened.
Emma stood slowly; her eyes locked on mine. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “I found out a few weeks ago I can heal myself. I hadn’t tried it on anyone else yet, but I’ve been reading about it, so I thought…”
“So you thought, let’s give it a try on Caden—no harm, no foul if that asshole dies from it?” I asked dryly, though the awe in my voice was unmistakable.
A smile broke out on her face, and it was mesmerizing. “Exactly,” she replied, keeping her tone light, with a playful glint in her expression.
“You’re a natural Healer? Without any training? How is that even possible? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
Emma shrugged, seemingly indifferent but there was a flicker of uncertainty and frustration in her bearing. “I don’t know… I tried to find out as much as I could about my translation, but Jam…” She cleared her throat. “But not everyone was helpful and figuring it out on my own has been difficult.”
“What did your Council have to say about it?” I pressed, curiosity mingling with concern.
“I didn’t tell them.” Her breathing hitched, and then she turned slightly, lowering her head before she whispered, barely audible, “Please… Please don’t tell anyone.” The vulnerability in her tone hit me like a punch to the gut.
I straightened my back, surprised by her request. “Why not? This is incredible, Emma! You should be celebrating this, not hiding it!” My voice was filled with admiration, but she only flinched at my words.
“I…” She bit her lip, her hands starting to fidget nervously. There was a sudden fear in her eyes I hadn’t seen before. “I’m not ready to share.”
Without thinking, I grabbed her hand, pulling it to my chest, right over the spot where she had healed me. Her fingers trembled slightly under my touch as I covered them with both of my hands, grounding her in the moment.
“Emma Thompson,” I said, tightening my grip just slightly, “you saved my fucking life. Do you understand that? You saved me when I’ve only given you reasons not to.
” My pulse raced as I held her hand, willing her to see how much this mattered.
“Thank you. And I promise to you, no one will hear about this from me. Your secret is safe, until you’re ready to share. ”
She tilted her chin toward me, hesitant, but I could feel the shift in her posture.
I meant every word. I’d protect her and her secret with my life, like she had protected mine.
A moment passed between us, a quiet intensity in the air. The corner of her mouth twitched, some unspoken thought rising and fading too fast to read.
We stood like that for a heartbeat longer, her hand still in my own, pressed against my heart. I swallowed as I tried to make sense of the emotions stirring within me, unfamiliar and unsettling.
Then, as if on cue, we let go at the same time.
“You’ve got some impressive fighting moves as well,” I said, trying to keep the tone light, hoping to ease the tension still lingering in the air.
Emma’s smile turned smug, unmistakable pride radiating off her.
I couldn’t help but smile back, feeling myself relax a little. “James must have taught you well.”
The moment those words left my mouth, her smile vanished—like I’d ripped it from her face. Her jaw clenched, and the sudden shift in her demeanor made my stomach drop. Damn it. Wrong thing to say. I shouldn’t have brought him up, not when it clearly still hurt her this much.
I cleared my throat, regret tugging at me as I softened my tone. “Have you heard from him?”
She swallowed hard, and without saying a word, shook her head once. The sadness etched in her features was unmistakable, and it punched straight through me with a force I wasn’t prepared for. I wanted to fucking strangle the guy for making her feel like that.
Idiot. If I had a woman like Emma—strong, brilliant, and beautiful—waiting to hear from me, I’d make damn sure she did.
Changing the subject quickly, I said, “You must be hungry. Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?”
She froze for a moment, as if caught off guard. “You want me to eat dinner with the rest of the team?” Her voice was raw with emotion, and I felt a twinge of guilt. I should have invited her sooner. She must have felt pretty alone.
“You fight with us, you eat with us,” I said, trying to sound casual despite the contrition bubbling up.
She gave a curt nod, but the relief in her eyes was evident. She was craving company, maybe even a sense of home. In that moment, I decided if it was the last thing I did, I’d make sure she found a place where she’d belong, a new family—mine.