Chapter 42 #2
She punched me lightly in the gut, and I groaned dramatically, though her punch barely had any force behind it.
“What’s up?” I asked, still chuckling, trying to keep the mood light. But when I glanced down at her, I saw the seriousness of her thoughts in the way she was biting her bottom lip.
“Why did you kill Julian for me?” she asked quietly, with a hint of vulnerability.
Damn. That question blindsided me.
I hesitated for a second, trying to find the right words. “We execute the death penalty for anyone responsible of forcing the True Bond,” I said carefully, my voice deliberately neutral, keeping my emotions in check.
But Emma wasn’t buying it.
“That’s not what you said, though,” she replied softly.
I frowned. My mind flicked back, trying to piece together her memory of events. When did I say what exactly? The question hung on my lips, but I didn’t ask it yet, waiting for her to explain.
She looked up at me, her eyes dark and searching, and then she said it. “You said you didn’t want me to be raped by him… After which you proceeded to threaten me with rape yourself, by the way.”
I snorted, the memory of that heated moment rushing back.
It wasn’t one of my proudest moments, trying to scare her back to Cyclos, but I remembered her biting response.
“Oh right, I forgot about that part,” I said with a faint grin.
“To which you responded that it wouldn’t be such an inconvenience considering the small size of my dick, if I’m not mistaken. ”
She ignored my attempt at humor, her expression not budging even an inch.
“Help me understand,” she asked, her voice pleading. “Why did you kill Julian?”
Staring down at her, I could see how much this question had been eating at her.
I raised an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood with a teasing tone. “You miss your Elder, Emma?” I joked, but even I knew the words weren’t going to land.
Her patience snapped. “Fuck, Caden, stop deflecting!” The words were louder than they needed to be, echoing off the walls of our cozy icebox.
I sighed deeply, running a hand through my hair, as I felt the intensity of everything settle over me.
“You truly think so little of me?” I asked, my voice quieter now, more serious.
“You can’t understand why I wouldn’t want you—or any other woman—raped?
I’m not a bad man, Emma. I know I’m the villain in your story, but I try not to make a habit of it. ”
She blinked, clearly not expecting that response.
“I don’t think you’re a villain,” she said quietly. “I think you were seriously misguided in your actions toward me, and you bear responsibility for it. But I can see how much good you have in you, too.”
Her words caught me off guard, and I found myself looking at her, surprised and weary.
I hadn’t expected it—hadn’t expected her to acknowledge anything other than my mistakes.
“I will always do what is necessary for the good of my people,” I replied, softer as well, but still carrying an edge of conviction. “Even if it makes me evil to some.”
Emma was studying my face, trying to understand something deeper, something beneath the layers of self-justification. “So you killed Julian solely to prevent other women from being raped?” she asked, her voice level, though there was a hint of disbelief.
I exhaled sharply, her unrelenting scrutiny pinning me in place. The truth, as much as I tried to keep it simple, wasn’t easy to swallow—not for me, and definitely not for her. But she had earned some truth. More than some.
"I killed him because the thought of him raping you—mentally or physically—flipped something so dark inside me, I needed him gone. I couldn’t stop myself, and I didn’t fucking want to." My gaze caught hers, the words hitting raw and unfiltered. "Make of that what you will."
She blinked a few times, absorbing the significance of my confession. She didn’t say anything, but I could see the wheels turning in her mind, my words settling heavily. Then, almost imperceptibly, she relaxed into my hold, her body softening against mine as if accepting my unspeakable actions.
She squeezed me a bit tighter, her grip reassuring, and I held her just a little closer in return.
The familiar scent of pear and lily from her skin mixed with the crisp, cold air around us, created a strangely comforting aroma that seemed out of place in this freezing cage but somehow felt soothing.
For a few moments, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward or strained, but it was filled with the kind of tension that comes from realizing that maybe—just maybe—something had shifted between us.
I didn’t want to think about what it meant, not here, not yet.
All I wanted was to keep her warm, keep her safe, and hope that Sean would show up soon.
The cold continued to gnaw at our skin, acting like a constant reminder of just how fucked up our situation was. Every now and then, Emma would tremble, and I’d rub her arms, trying to push some life back into her limbs.
After a long while, she stirred in my arms, shifting her weight as she let out a long, drawn-out yawn. “I feel tired,” she murmured.
I shifted, trying to keep her upright as best I could, but I could feel her slumping back against me. Her body felt heavier, like she was fighting to stay conscious.
“Hmmm, I’m tired, Caden,” she repeated, as her head lolled to the side. Her eyelids fluttered, and a surge of panic rose in the pit of my stomach.
“I know, baby, but you’ve gotta stay awake,” I urged, struggling to keep the concern out of my tone. I gently shook her, trying to keep her alert. If she fell asleep now, there was no telling if she’d wake up again. The cold was relentless, and her body was starting to give in.
“Baby, huh?” she mumbled, her words slurring slightly. A faint smile tugged at her lips, but her eyes were barely open. “I guess babies sleep a lot too,” she added softer, as if the very act of speaking was taking too much energy.
I managed a weak smile, though her words only deepened my worry. “Sure, that’s why I called you that,” I said, trying to sound lighthearted.
But she didn’t respond, nor did she move. Her breathing grew more rhythmic, a sign she was slipping closer to sleep.
I tightened my hold on her, my heart pounding in my chest. “Emma, you’ve gotta stay with me, okay?” I said, my voice firm but gentle. “You can’t fall asleep. Talk to me, yell at me—hell, even punch me if it keeps you awake.”
Her lips twitched, but she didn’t respond. The silence that followed was deafening, and I knew we were beginning to run out of time.