Chapter 44
FORTY-FOUR
CADEN
She. Stopped. Breathing.
“No—Emma…!”
The sound tore out of me, raw and savage, ripped from the part of me that had never learned how to exist without her.
“Breathe—fuck, Emma, breathe!”
But she wasn’t.
She wasn’t doing anything.
I dropped to my knees, hovering over her, grabbing at her—arms, shoulders, face—anything I could touch, anything that still held a trace of warmth. My grip was too tight, and my hands were shaking.
“No.” My voice cracked. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to give up.”
Her skin—gods, her skin—had turned ghost-pale, lips edged with blue. My stomach twisted, bile burning its way up my throat.
She was slipping away.
No no no—
Fuck. She needed oxygen. Now.
My mind scrambled, training and terror colliding, instinct fraying under the weight of panic. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.
Do something. Move. Help her. Now.
My gaze fell to her lips—soft, perfect, and slightly parted, the color drained from them now, ice-cold where they should’ve been full and warm.
Never, in a million years, had I imagined the first time I’d feel those lips would be in a moment like this—desperately fighting to keep her alive. Not in some stolen kiss, not in the heat of a perfect moment, but with death creeping between us.
With trembling hands, I cradled her face and tilted her head back, my fingers grazing the curve of her jaw, the hollow of her throat—skin far too cold beneath my touch.
I tilted her head back slowly, fingers sliding into her hairline, combing through damp strands that clung to her temples. My breath caught as I leaned in, every inch between us vanishing.
The moment my lips touched hers, a jolt cracked through me—sharp, electric, alive—and my heart stuttered hard against my ribs, like it couldn’t decide whether to break or keep fighting.
She felt so close, so achingly intimate, and for a single breathless second, I forgot the fear. Forgot the cold, the danger, the ticking clock. There was only her—and the unbearable sweetness of her mouth against my own.
And in that moment, I found myself wishing for an alternate reality—one where she was mine, and forever wasn’t just a fantasy.
But this wasn’t about us.
It was about her, about saving the woman who had stormed into my life and had rearranged it like a fucking interior decorator with too much attitude.
I pressed my mouth to hers again, sealing the space between us and exhaling, slowly, steadily, forcing my breath into her lungs.
Her lips were soft beneath me, parted slightly, still and yielding.
I could feel the shape of her, the way her chest barely lifted under my hands, the way her eyelashes remained still against her pale skin.
I tried not to think about how natural it felt to hold her like this.
How wrong it was that I could feel every line of her body while her soul drifted further away.
Another breath. And another. My pulse pounded in my ears, deafening and frantic. I shifted my weight, one hand sliding down to her sternum, pressing down—searching for movement, for life.
Nothing. No flutter of lashes. No answering heartbeat. No twitch of breath.
Only terrifying, soul crushing silence.
"Breathe for me, baby," I muttered against her lips, my voice shaking as I pulled back to look at her pale, still face. "I need you to fucking breathe for me.”
I breathed into her again, while my pulse was a thunderstorm in my ears, hammering away as if it could somehow beat enough for the both of us.
“Fucking fight this, Emma!" My voice was thick with despair as I pressed my lips to hers again.
Each breath I gave her was filled with everything I had, every ounce of hope and fear tangled together.
The longer the silence lasted, the more it tore through me, each passing second amplifying the ache in my core. It wasn’t only about saving her—it was about saving myself too. Because if she was gone, I wasn’t sure what would be left of me.
I pulled back one more time, my forehead resting against hers as I murmured into the stillness, “Please, nightcrawler.” I swallowed hard. “Come back to me.”
And then, right when I thought I’d lost her for good, there was the smallest hitch in her stillness—a hardly-there flutter of breath that sent a shockwave through me, stopping my heart mid-beat.
For a split second, I didn’t dare believe it was real.
But then it came again, more ragged this time, a desperate gasp that filled her lungs and broke the silence.
"Emma!" I whispered as I pulled back, staring at her. Her chest rose and fell in uneven, shallow breaths, but she was breathing. She was alive. Relief washed over me, leaving me dizzy. But it was still far from over.
I had to get her out of here—now. My mind raced, searching for a plan.
The freezing air bit at my skin, the jagged walls seeming to close in around us.
I glanced around frantically, my heart pounding as I considered my options.
There was no easy way out, no time to wait for backup.
Every second felt too long, each breath she took a fragile promise that could shatter if I didn’t act fast.
Fuck! I was alone, trapped in a frozen cell with her barely hanging on, and I had no way of—
Suddenly, a thunderous crash reverberated through the mountain, making the very ground beneath me tremble.
My head snapped toward the sound, my heart jumping into my throat as the noise of splitting and cracking filled the air.
The walls shook violently, chunks of frozen debris breaking off and crashing to the floor in a flurry of sharp, brittle shards.
I shielded Emma instinctively, bracing myself against the cold as pieces of the ceiling rained down around us.
And then, through the chaos, a hulking silhouette emerged—massive, unstoppable—a machine plowing through the barrier like it was nothing. The frozen wall crumbled away, revealing its jagged, towering form, and for a moment, all I could do was stare, stunned by the sheer force of it.
My head whipped around just in time to see Sean at the controls of what could only be described as a high-powered ice-breaking machine. The sound was deafening, but it was the most welcome noise I’d heard in my whole fucking life.
“Sean!” I shouted, my voice cracking with a mixture of relief and disbelief.
My brother didn’t hesitate.
The moment he’d cleared enough space, he leaped out of the machine, boots crunching against the fractured ice as he sprinted toward us. His attention locked briefly on the Amplifier behind me, still glowing faintly, before flicking to Emma’s still form in my arms.
“Caden, ye look like shit,” Sean grunted, his usual sarcasm bleeding through, but it was tempered by concern. Real concern.
Dropping to one knee beside me, Sean’s gaze swept over Emma, his expression quickly shifting to the controlled calm of someone who’s seen too many close calls. His breath came in frayed clouds of steam, but his sharp focus was there, taking in every detail with a practiced eye.
"Is she…?" Sean began, but the question caught in his throat as his eyes landed on the faint rise and fall of her torso, the barest sign of life still lingering.
"She just started breathing again," I managed, emotions crashing in waves beneath the surface. “But she’s slowly freezing to death.” I swallowed hard, my hands tightening around her. The cold radiating from her skin felt like a ticking clock, a reminder of how little time we had left.
Sean’s jaw clenched as he scanned her face quickly. Without saying another word, he shrugged off his thick coat and placed it over her, covering as much of her small frame as he could.
“We need to get her warmed up, fast,” he muttered, his tone shifting into full command mode. “If we don’t, breathing won’t be enough to save her.”
I nodded, scarcely able to think straight, my mind running a hundred miles an hour while my body felt like it was moving in slow motion. Emma stirred faintly in my arms, her lips still too bluish for comfort.
Sean grabbed my shoulder, snapping me out of my panic. “Caden, listen to me. We’re going to get her out of here. Ye hear me? She’s going to be okay. But we have to move out, now.”
“Then let’s get her out of here.”
I jumped to my feet, adjusting Emma in my arms, cradling her close to me.
“I’ve got a chopper nearby.” Sean’s words were clear, his mind already on the next step.
He moved toward the warhead on the far side of our cage, its core still casting an eerie light on the frozen ground. Reaching out, he paused only for a second before grabbing it. “I’ll handle this.”
“Be careful,” I warned, casting a wary glance at the ominous glow. “No translation. You know what it does.”
Sean didn’t even blink, his resolve unshakable. He grabbed the weapon with both hands, grunting under the strain. “This thing’s heavier than it looks,” he muttered, muscles tensing as he lifted it. “But we’ve got bigger problems than its weight if we don’t get moving.”
He then led the way back through the path he’d carved, the machine’s trail of destruction a welcome sight in the midst of this nightmare.
Emma was still so cold, so fragile, and every second felt like a countdown I couldn’t afford to lose. Holding her as gently as I could, I followed, my heart pounding in time with each step.
The ground was slick with melting snow, but I didn’t falter. Each breath cut through me like glass, but none of it touched the real pain: the dread I might be too late. I might lose her. I might’ve already failed her.
As we burst out into the open air, the chopper was there, waiting, its rotors already spinning, kicking up gusts of white mist as it readied for takeoff. The sight of it, ready to fly us away from this hell, was a fucking lifeline.
“Get her inside!” Sean yelled, barely cutting through the roar of the blades.