Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
CADEN
"Stay the fuck with me, Emma!"
I cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks as I gently shook her, trying to keep her from drifting further into the fatigue that was overtaking her.
“Huh?” she replied, her voice delayed, like she had to pull herself back from the edge just to respond.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, as I tried to keep the spiking anxiety at bay. “Listen to me. You’ve got to fight the exhaustion. Talk to me. Yell at me. Call me one of those colorful names you save just for me.”
“Okay,” she mumbled, the sound so faint it nearly vanished into the freezing air. Her eyelids fluttered, the effort to keep them open etched across her face.
“Can I ask you something?” I murmured, hoping to keep her engaged, to stop her from sinking any deeper into that dangerous, cold-induced haze.
“Sure,” she replied, though her speech was slurred, before another yawn escaped her lips.
I hesitated for a second, knowing what I was about to bring up wasn’t just delicate—it was painful. But I had to say something that would jolt her awake, something she couldn’t ignore. And this? It would do the trick.
“We haven’t really talked about it yet, but…” I paused, knowing this was the moment. “Have you thought about your son?”
Bingo. Her eyes flew wide open, and the sluggishness disappeared, replaced by sudden awareness. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, relief washing over me.
"Have I thought about the man who will fight for our future existence?” Her words hung in the freezing air, quiet but heavy with meaning. “Yes, I have. Have I thought about him being my son…"
"Every single day."
Her words were filled with emotions so raw they sent shivers through me, more so than the ice around us.
“So have I,” I admitted, my voice low and steady, hoping to match the gravity of what she had just shared. It wasn’t easy talking about this—about him, about Alek—but we couldn’t avoid it anymore.
Emma’s focus locked onto me, searching for something, as if she were trying to see through me, to read every hidden part of me. Then, as understanding flickered in her gaze, she whispered, “It must’ve been a massive mindfuck, finding out you could be his dad.”
I smiled warmly, hoping to ease the nervousness I saw building in her eyes. “No more than you finding out he’s your son.”
She nodded softly, her expression shifting from the raw vulnerability to something more contemplative. “I try not to focus on the part where I’m not there for him,” she said quietly. “We don’t know yet what’s going to happen. All we know is, Alek will exist. And he will be massively badass.”
I couldn’t help but grin.
“Hard not to be, with a mom like you,” I replied, meaning every word. Emma was a force to be reckoned with. Alek would clearly inherit every ounce of that fire, of that strength.
“Do you think he’ll be fine?” She kept the question vague, but I knew exactly what she was asking.
“I’m sure of it,” I said, trying to reassure her, even though I knew no one could predict what was coming. Still, I had to believe Alek—her son, maybe even our son—would be fine, no matter how impossible the future seemed.
She sighed softly, her breath shaky. “Untraceable translation… How did I get so lucky to be the only one in the world with it?” Bitterness flickered beneath the surface, as if the very thing that made her unique also made her feel isolated.
I shrugged. “You also have the power of the Elder. Focus on that.” But the moment the words left my mouth, I felt her stiffen in my arms, her body tensing at the mention of the Elder.
“You okay there?” I asked, pulling her a bit closer, trying to soothe whatever nightmare was bothering her.
She relaxed into me, though I could still feel the tautness lingering. After a moment, she hesitated before speaking again. “Do you feel…” she trailed off, uncertainty threading through the silence. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.” Whatever was on her mind, it was clearly something that had been eating away at her for a while now.
“I don’t feel like a real maga sometimes,” she admitted, her voice so quiet I almost missed it. But the magnitude of her statement was undeniable.
“What? Why the fuck not?” I asked, taken aback. Emma was one of the most powerful magi I’d ever known—the most powerful, really—and the idea she didn’t feel like she belonged in that category was utterly insane to me.
“Because I’m not natural,” she breathed, as though the confession itself was something shameful.
I frowned, confusion and frustration swirling in my chest. “What kind of utter crap are you sprouting?”
She sighed. “I’m man-made, Caden. I’m not a biological maga. I was created… I’m not real.”
My eyes widened in disbelief. After everything we’d been through, after all the power she’d shown, this was what haunted her?
“That’s what you’re worried about?” I asked, incredulous. “My gods, Emma, you are the most powerful maga in the world. You can fucking heal yourself without knowing anything about it! Who the fuck cares where all that power comes from?”
She didn’t respond right away, her gaze distant, as though she was still wrestling with the truth she’d just revealed. I could feel the depth of her doubt, the insecurity that had been gnawing at her, and it pissed me off she felt this way.
“Emma,” I said gently, reaching up to tilt her chin with my fingers, guiding her face toward mine.
“It doesn’t matter how you got your power.
What matters is what you do with it. And you—you’re a fucking force.
Your interface is below the second after only one year of training.
Your fighting skills? Lethal. And you wield a Skindo like it’s an extension of you.
You’re everything that defines a maga. Don’t let anyone—or anything—make you feel otherwise. ”
She blinked slowly, her eyes locking with mine—and for a moment, all I saw was raw vulnerability. But then, inch by inch, she nodded. Her body softened slightly, pressing a little more into mine.
“I just… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to accept it,” she murmured.
I tightened my hold on her, pressing my forehead against hers. “You don’t have to accept it all at once,” I said quietly. “But know this—you are real. And you’re powerful as hell, Emma. No one can take that from you.”
I stared down at her as she smiled faintly, a soft, tired smile, but it was there. And in that moment, I realized I would do anything—everything within my power—to keep that smile where it belonged.
“Alek is proof of your natural abilities,” I crooned, trying to reassure her, to ground her in the truth. “If it weren’t natural, you wouldn’t be able to pass it on to him. And we know for a fact you did.”
When she didn’t respond, a chill of dread crept up my spine. The silence between us stretched too long, too heavy. Something was wrong.
“Emma?” Instant fear set in my bones as I shook her.
Her head lolled against my ribcage; her skin so cold it felt unnatural.
My heart began to pound as panic surged through me again.
I glanced down at her, my breath catching in my throat when I saw her complexion—her normally warm skin now turning alarmingly pale, almost ashen.
“Emma!” Her name tore from me, full of rising fear. I shook her a little harder, trying to rouse her, desperate to keep her from slipping further away.
Then, to my relief, she began to mutter—her words soft but slurred, confused.
“I wish you would’ve nexed me though,” she mumbled, her lids fluttering open, but her voice sounded faint and distant, like she wasn’t fully with me anymore.
I frowned, leaning in closer, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “When?” I asked, hoping to understand her words.
“When do you think?” she snapped, suddenly cutting through the icy air with a bitterness that didn’t make sense. "You think it’s okay to lie to me for our entire relationship and then ghost me?”
My heart sank, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut. Oh, fuck.
She thought I was him. She thought I was James.
A pang of hurt shot through me, but I quickly pushed it down, forcing myself to stay focused. “Emma,” I said, my tone urgent but calm, trying to pull her back. “It’s me, Caden. You need to stay with me. You’re just cold and confused.”
Her eyes fluttered again, as though she were trying to fight through the fog in her mind. “James?” she whispered, the name laced with a deep, unshakable hurt.
“Emma, it’s Caden,” I repeated firmly, my heart breaking a little as I saw the pain etched on her features. I cupped her face, hoping to ground her in the present. “And I’m not going anywhere. You hear me? I’m right here.”
She didn’t fucking reply.
“Hey,” I said softly, forcing myself to control the flood of dread as I nudged her, trying to pull her back to reality. “Look at me, open your eyes.”
But she didn’t. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she continued, sounding almost fragile. “Why didn’t you nex me? For five fucking months?”
Each word stabbed at me like a knife, her confusion cutting me deeper than I wanted to admit. It hurt like hell that she thought I was him, that in her dazed state, I wasn’t the one she wanted to hold on to.
But if keeping her talking meant playing along, even if it tore me apart, then I’d do it.
For her.
I sighed deeply, closing my lids for a moment, trying to ground myself, to find the strength to do what had to be done.
“Because I was scared,” I whispered, my voice barely steady. The truth of my words hung heavy in the air, but it wasn’t the fear she thought it was. It wasn’t James’s fear of rejection I spoke of, but my own, Caden’s—fear of losing her, of failing her when she needed me most.
I could see her struggling to make sense of it all, her mind lost in the fog of confusion.
“Scared of what?” she breathed, and she sounded so small, so vulnerable, it nearly broke me.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Of you pushing me even further away if I did.”
Fuck it. I resigned to do what I had to. I became him, because for her, I would be anyone, even the man who broke her, if it meant keeping her here with me.
She stilled, her body going quiet against mine. “And how was not calling me helping?” she asked, a trace of her usual sharpness creeping back into her voice. Even delirious with hypothermia, she was still snarky.
I almost smiled, even as my heart ached. “I thought I was giving you space,” I said softly, wishing she could see me, really see me.
“Space?” she spat, the word dripping with disdain. “What, like I’m a fucking alien?”
I nearly laughed, even though it wasn’t funny.
Then, her eyes started to roll back, her grip on reality slipping away again. Fuck!
“Emma,” I snapped, now harsher than ever before. “Emma, stay the fuck with me. Give me your eyes! Now!”
Her lids fluttered open again, confusion giving way to recognition. “Caden?” she asked, her voice weak, but at least she was back.
“Yeah,” I said, exhaling in relief.
“I think I fell asleep,” she murmured, her eyelids heavy.
I nodded, even though I knew she could barely see me. “Yeah, but I’ve got you,” I whispered, pressing my fingers to her carotid artery, feeling the slow but steady pulse beneath my touch.
No idea how much time passed after that, but I tried to keep her talking, tried to keep her anchored to reality. As Caden. As James. It didn’t matter. Whatever she needed, whoever she needed me to be, I’d be exactly that. Because I needed her to stay awake, to stay with me.
When she lost consciousness again, her head slumping against my torso, something inside me snapped. I was ready to carve out my own heart if it meant keeping her alive. Anything, I’d do anything.
Not only so she could give us the savior, but because without her, the world would lose the very reason it should be saved.
The real panic hit when her breathing began to slow. It was a primal, gut-wrenching terror that clawed at my insides, refusing to let go.
Where the fuck was Sean?!
“Emma, please,” I breathed into her ear, trembling as I held her tighter—too tight.
I knew I could hurt her, but I was too terrified to let go.
Her skin was like ice against mine, the warmth she once radiated gone, as if it had never existed at all.
Her eyes hadn’t opened in what felt like eternity, and now her breathing—Gods, her breathing—was fading, each fragile inhale barely there.
I couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not when every part of me ached for her—bone, breath, and soul.
Not now. Not ever.
“Emma,” I choked, desperation splintering through my chest. We need to get out. We need to move.
“Focus on me—on the sound, on the pull. I’ll get us out, I swear, but you have to stay with me. Stay with me, baby, come on.”
But the only answer was the weak rise and fall of her chest, each breath shallower than the last.
And then—
She stopped.