Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
EMMA
Caden kept his promise.
Whatever dealings he had with Cyclos, I was never dragged into them. As far as I was concerned, the entire Collective—and its new Leader—were as good as dead.
Which allowed the following weeks at Crown to become some of the best of my life.
For the first time since being retrieved from the Human World, I wasn’t only passing through or keeping people at arm’s length. I had become part of something real—woven into a tight-knit group of friends in a way I’d never been before.
Mornings started with breakfast and training, always with Rocco, Emile, and Saoirse by my side.
Saoirse, as it turned out, wasn’t just good—she was one of the best fighters at Crown.
Sparring with her had gone from challenging to exhilarating in only a few days, each match sharpening my instincts, pushing my limits, leaving us both breathless and grinning.
Saoirse was an outgoing woman, who knew she was beautiful and used it to her advantage, without letting it dictate her entire personality.
She read more books than me and was unapologetic about the copious amounts of smut she devoured.
Needless to say, our friendship went from practically non-existent to unbreakable in a ridiculously small amount of time.
She told me all about finger curling and scissoring, which had me so curious, I’d started to explore some more by myself at night.
Rocco and Emile were a pair of funny, laid-back guys who were obsessed with what they called “football” and food. Aside from Cristiano Ronaldo’s gorgeous little behind, I knew very little about soccer, but it felt oddly comforting talking about such human subjects.
Lunch and early afternoons were usually spent with Sean, who drilled me on all things translation and Jackson (unrelated), after which we picked up our research and tried to piece together as much as we could about Amplifiers, LiaPrisms, Radicals, Trackers and the future of magi.
With Sean, conversation was effortless. There were no masks, no tiptoeing—only honesty, humor, and this quiet, steady sense of security.
In no time, he became the brother I’d never had—and always wanted.
He never judged. Never made me feel small.
And somehow, he always knew exactly when to challenge me—when to push, and when to let me breathe.
And then there was Caden.
Where Sean challenged my mind, Caden challenged…everything. My character, my knowledge, my patience, even my self-control. While Sean felt like safety, Caden kept me on edge.
Like a real predator, he moved with lethal grace, all control and cold intention. You could admire his power up close, even convince yourself you were safe in its presence. But forget what he was for even a second, and he'd leave scars no one else could see.
And yet, for all his danger, there was something undeniably magnetic about him. Covering for all that calculated stillness was the kind of effortless charm—subtle, disarming, and impossible to ignore. No matter how hard you tried to resist it, Caden had a way of pulling you in.
Which is how I ended up in the training yard, not-so-accidentally facing the wrong direction at the exact moment he peeled off his shirt.
And gods help me, I froze.
His back was a map of scars and muscle—raw, tanned, sculpted like a warrior carved out of pure menace. When he turned, I caught a glimpse of his chest and—
I swallowed hard.
Abs.
Abs.
More abs.
Sharp, cut, unapologetically male abs.
Did I mention the abs?
Where James was all lean lines and lethality, Caden looked like he bench-pressed boulders for fun. Manly. Scarred. Feral. Muscles for days.
Fuck.
Not ogling the guy who mutilated my arm would, under normal circumstances, rank pretty high on any rational person’s priority list.
But that list didn’t account for Caden’s unfiltered sexual energy.
The hell was wrong with me?
I loved James. Even if we were broken up—even if we’d imploded in the most spectacular fashion—he was still in my heart. The boy who saw me when no one else did.
Still, that didn’t stop the heat crawling up my neck as Caden laughed at something Christopher said, dark eyes glinting under messy black hair, his body on full display like he didn’t have a single thing to hide. Of course, he didn’t. He knew exactly what he looked like—and so did everyone else.
A group of female Offensives nearby had definitely noticed. One of them actually sighed.
Okay. Time to leave.
I turned sharply on my heel, desperate for a distraction.
Christopher—tall, broad-shouldered, with a shock of sandy hair and a grin like he didn’t take anything seriously—caught my eye from across the field and waved like we hadn’t just survived a near-death mission yesterday, when raiding yet another Radical camp, looking for the Amplifier.
I raised a hand back, hesitantly, trying to cool the fire crawling down my spine.
Then bolted inside so fast it probably looked like I was being chased by a herd of feral goats bleating philosophical questions at me.
The next days, weeks even, I buried myself in the work.
Anything to forget the full-body meltdown I’d had the moment the darkest of men revealed approximately two hundred abs and a torso that should be classified as a biological hazard.
Every so often, Caden would send me on missions to the Human World—to fetch tech or gather intel. I brought back iPhones rigged with tracking software, GPS devices, and walked him through the wild circus of social media—showing how humans had willingly given up their privacy for convenience.
All in the hope we would find something that could explain how in a hundred years, humans would turn LiaPrisms into our death sentence.
The rest of our time was spent hunting for the Amplifier.
Evenings were the highlight of my day: dinner at the family table, surrounded by loud Offensives who had somehow become my people. I laughed until my stomach hurt—every single time.
And after those energy-filled days, I’d wind down in Caden’s library, a book in one hand and a glass of Scotch in the other. It was quickly becoming my favorite part of our routine.
Even when his shirt stayed on.
We had started talking for hours on end, sharing some very personal stuff, and I was loving every second of it.
I tried to remind myself of the conversation between Caden and Sean I had overheard—where I was merely seen as a future incubator—but his actions contradicted that at every turn, and I knew in my bones, he and I were becoming genuine friends.
Another two months flew by in the blink of an eye. I wouldn’t have believed it, had someone told me this back in Switzerland, but for the first time in a long time, I was…happy.
So happy, I felt strong enough to wallow in self-pity for one hour a day, thinking about James.
I missed him. Every single day. I missed someone looking at me like I was everything.
I missed being pulled into strong arms that made the world feel quiet.
I missed the comfort of someone knowing me inside out, even when we were fighting about something stupid.
I missed being held. Being seen.
And I hated him, for not contacting me even once, in five fucking months.
I was the one who was angry with him, for good reason, so how was I still the pathetic one, waiting to hear from him?
Asshole.
“Emma?” Saoirse’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts, waving her hand in front of my face.
It was our regular Thursday night ritual.
The four of us were lounging right outside Caerleon Manor, basking in the evening sun, each of us holding a cocktail.
The tradition had started with Emile’s weekly missions, which meant Rocco needed some company to fill in for his best friend—or to distract him from the fact Emile was spending so much time undercover with Radicals.
Emile’s mission was crucial though. Despite our efforts, we were no closer to finding the Amplifier than we had been three months ago. We desperately needed the intel he was gathering.
Unfortunately, every lead he provided turned out to be a dead end. By the time we arrived at the locations he suggested, the Radicals and the Amplifier had already vanished, and I couldn’t shake the worry the Radicals might have compromised Emile, feeding him false information to lead us astray.
I blinked, coming back to reality. “Sorry,” I said, “I must’ve spaced out.”
She laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “No worries. Daydreaming about sex with some hot guy, I hope?”
I shrugged. “Not quite.”
Her gaze flicked to mine, something knowing sparking in it, like she could see straight through me.
Saoirse took a slow sip from her cocktail, then set the glass down with a smirk. “You know, you seriously should consider a sexual rebound.”
“I volunteer as tribute!” Rocco instantly declared with a grin, which made me snort, until Sean punched him on the arm.
“Ouch! What was that for?” our resident Casanova complained, rubbing the soon to be bruise.
“For trying to snag such an honorable job without putting in any effort,” Sean retorted, sounding strict but playful.
I laughed, and kissed Sean affectionately on the cheek.
“You know who used to be great at providing distractions?” Saoirse asked, a wistful smile playing on her lips. “Caden.”
I perked up. “Oh really? How so?”
Saoirse ran her fingers through her flowing, auburn hair and leaned back with a smirk. “Let’s just say the sex with Caden was next-level. I swear, it was like he knew my body better than I did. And I know for a fact, I wasn’t the only woman who felt that way with him.”
Rocco snorted. “No shit. Every guy in this Collective is inherently jealous of Caden. The man has gotten more action than all Offensives combined.”
I remembered Sean telling about Caden’s regulars. It wasn’t surprising, considering Caden was insanely hot, charming, and First Offensive. Still, I hadn’t seen him with any woman other than myself since my first night at Crown.