50
Luna
Saint’s barking jolts me awake. Beneath it, angry voices rumble, too muffled to make out, but the tension in them is razor-sharp. I burrow deeper into sheets that smell like Cade, hoping to block it all out, but more snippets bleed through as they get louder.
“. . . fuck you! . . . killed him . . .” Scar’s voice is higher pitched than usual.
“. . . move the fuck on . . .” Cade’s deeper tone is followed by more of Saint’s frantic whines.
My mind drifts to last night: Cade and me stumbling in from the rain. Scar in the doorway, silent, his face carved from stone before he vanished upstairs without a word.
No wonder he’s pissed. Cade left him in the dark for a week, then suddenly turned up buck-naked in the middle of the night, making enough racket to wake the dead.
But Cade did go and talk to him at some point, didn’t he? I’m not quite sure, it’s all a blur now.
Saint’s bark pitches higher, more urgent. Something crashes—like glass breaking.
My pulse stutters, but I tell myself to let them work it out. Boys fight. It’s nothing new.
I stretch, wincing at the delicious soreness spreading through my limbs, and slide from the warm cocoon of sheets.
The bathroom mirror tells a messy story—wild hair tangled from sleep, lips still swollen from Cade’s kisses, my neck marked with evidence of his possession. I lift a hand to tame the chaos, fingers combing through dark waves—
And freeze.
Light catches on metal, drawing my eye to something that shouldn’t be there. Can’t be there. My heart lurches to a stop, then kicks up again.
An emerald ring sits snugly on my fourth finger as if it grew there overnight. The deep green stone, offset by tiny diamonds, gleams in the morning light, and my stomach flips violently. It matches exactly the emerald at the center of the Reaper Druids’ skull that stretches across Cade’s back. It’s a signature, a claim.
Panic prickles up my spine. A promise ring? Something symbolic? Surely just an Old Lady thing.
But my mind whispers the truth: Really? On your fourth left finger?
I lift my hand, my heart hammering painfully against my ribs as the truth settles over me like a crushing weight.
A ring on this finger only means two things. A blood oath, like the ones mafia bosses give their most trusted lieutenants—or a promise of forever. And Cade would know that. He doesn’t do anything without purpose.
My hand trembles as I touch the ring, half expecting it to dissolve like some surreal dream. But it’s real. The emerald is rich, deep, almost dark—like it holds secrets I’m not sure I’m ready to unlock.
Oh God. It’s so fucking perfect.
Tears prick my eyes and spill over. They’re hot, scalding even, a release of too much emotion all at once. Fear, joy, hope—all tangled together like a knot I can’t untangle. Cade and I . . . we weren’t supposed to be this. That was the unspoken deal, wasn’t it? No strings attached. Just fire and passion until the flames burned out.
But this ring changes everything.
Saint’s barking jars me from the bathroom. Throwing on one of Cade’s T-shirts, I rush to the kitchen, my bare feet silent against the floor. The air feels different down here—heavy and thick, like the charged moment before lightning strikes.
I pause in the doorway, and the sight before me sends ice shooting through my veins.
Bloody shards of broken glass glitter on the floor. Scar stands with his back to me, his broad shoulders unnaturally stiff. The tattoo spanning his skin looks warped in the dim light, like a twisted parody of Cade’s. Across from him, Cade’s jaw is tight, and his eyes—oh God, his eyes. They’re hollowed with something close to despair.
“Baby?”
Scar’s shoulders go even more rigid at the sound of my voice. He steps around the massive island and moves to the far side of the kitchen by the huge window. His back remains turned to Cade and me as he stares at the swaying palm trees in the yard.
“Luciana. Go back upstairs. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
I b link in surprise. Cade never dismisses me. His voice, usually smooth and grounding, is strained now, sharp enough to scrape against my nerves.
It’s obvious they were fighting about me. But hell if I’ll let Scar, or anyone else, decide whether I belong in Cade’s life. Especially not someone who can’t handle that Cade can’t give away every piece of himself anymore.
“No, I’m fine, Cade,” I say with forced cheer, the smile on my face feeling brittle. “I’m already here. Might as well fix something for myself.”
My gaze flickers to the glass-paneled walk-in pantry behind the door, its faint light illuminating rows of carefully organized shelves. I hesitate, not making a move to go there just yet.
Instead, I glance at Scar, who still hasn’t turned to face me. Hoping to diffuse the tension, I offer a polite greeting. “Morning, Scar.”
For a few heavy heartbeats, Scar doesn’t respond. When he finally turns, his face splits into a blinding grin. “Good morning, Luciana. Want some coffee?”
My spine stiffens at the sound of my full name. No one except Cade calls me that. No one.
Creep.
“No, I’m good, thanks, Scar.” My smile is just as bright and fake.
I glance at Cade for support, but he only glares at me, his eyes flicking meaningfully to the door.
Leave? Not a fucking chance.
A surge of defiance wells up in me as I shoot Scar another smile. I’m sick of tiptoeing around this asshole, sick of the mind games and passive aggression he throws my way, and if Cade won’t draw the line, I will.
Slo wly, deliberately, I lift my left hand, brushing my hair back in a motion that feels almost theatrical.
“Fuck me.” Scar’s gaze zeroes in on the ring, narrowing. A heartbeat later, he emits a sudden, jagged laugh that almost makes me flinch while Cade spears both hands through his hair, a rare show of frustration.
“Well, Pretty,” Scar drawls. “It looks like we’re heading for a funeral, then.”
Confused and annoyed by the cryptic remark, I whirl on him. “If you have a problem with me, Scar, I suggest you man up and face me and stop hiding behind riddles and masks.”
Scar doesn’t even acknowledge that I’ve spoken. He doesn’t take his eyes off Cade. For an eerie second, it’s like I don’t exist to him.
Cade takes a breath and commands, “Take Saint for a walk, Derek.”
Derek? His real name is Derek?
Scar grabs a dishcloth, wrapping it slowly around his bleeding hand. “Sure.” He crouches to Saint. “Come on. Mom and Dad need to talk. You don’t want to be in here for this one.”
He reaches out to ruffle Saint’s fur, but the dog jerks away, growling low in his throat. Saint’s red eyes flick between Scar and Cade, his body rigid, tail low.
“Go, Saint.” Cade’s gruff command sets the dog straightening and slinking out of the kitchen. Scar trails after him, tossing one last unreadable look over his shoulder at Cade before disappearing through the door.
The instant it shuts, Cade strides toward me, his tone urgent. “Luciana—”
“Let me guess, he doesn’t approve?” I snap bitterly. “I’m so sick of having to elbow my way into your life, Cade. You either want this enough to fight for us, or you don’t.”
His jaw tightens. “This isn’t the time or place,” he bites out. “I’ll explain later. Let’s go—”
“Oh, you’ll explain right now.” I plant my feet, refusing to let him brush this off. “Why the hell does his opinion even matter?”
His brows furrow. “Listen. You can come with me, or—”
“What? You’ll drag me?” My voice rises, anger and hurt bleeding together.
“Luciana.” His warning tone sharpens, but I see the crack in his resolve.
I take his hand, my fingers knitting with his. “Caden. Please. Talk to me.”
I swore I’d never beg him to make me his priority, but here I fucking am, my pride in tatters.
His lids fall shut, and his thick lashes cast shadows over his face. For a moment, he seems to wrestle within himself, but then his breath leaves in a rush. When his eyes open again, a softness flickers in their depths.
“It’s just you and me, Luciana. No one else gets a say, okay?” His tone is soothing, but I don’t miss the way he grinds his molars. He seems . . . conflicted.
Why is this hard for him?
I reach up and trace the sharp line of his jaw with my fingers, trying to soothe him—and maybe myself. His stubble feels rough against my skin, but his warmth calms me.
“Okay,” I say softly. “I hear you. But tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
“Luciana, there’s something you should know about Scar—”
It feels like a bucket of cold water has just been dumped over my head. Scar? Seriously?
I cut him off with a sharp shake of my head, my voice trembling. “Can we not talk about him right now? Please?”
May be I should’ve been clearer about what I wanted to talk about. But I thought it’d be obvious, given the massive green elephant sitting on my finger.
I blink back tears and lift my left hand, the emerald catching the light like a beacon. “Caden, I woke up to find this on my finger. And now you want to talk to me about Scar?”
His gaze drops to my hand, then returns to my face, his green eyes catching my failed attempt not to cry.
He winces, and instantly the tension in his jaw eases, though his gaze darts to the door like he’s expecting it to burst open. “Do you like it?”
“Like it? Baby, it’s the most beautiful, most meaningful ring I’ve ever seen, and you’re asking if I like it? I freaking love it, Cade.”
“It’s settled, then.” His arm slips around my waist. “Let’s go.”
“Wait. Wait—” My voice breaks. “That’s . . . all you’re going to say?”
His jaw tightens with impatience again. “Oh, I’ve got plenty to say, just not now.”
My eyes close as equal parts hurt and longing twist my gut. God, I want him, but is he doing it for the right reasons? Or because he thinks I need some sort of label. A reassurance of my status in his life?
“What do you really want, Cade?” I whisper. “Please be honest with me.”
Suddenly the tension in his body coils tighter, his gaze locked on mine like he’s searching for something. Then, in one swift motion, his arm bands around my waist, pulling me into him. Before I can say another word, his lips crash against mine.
It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s deep and consuming, his clever tongue tangling with mine like he’s trying to carve his answer into my very soul.
He kisses me until I’m melting. Until the tension in his shoulders fades. Until everything else disappears, leaving only this unshakable bond between us—the one that defies time, reason, and anything outside us.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead drops to mine. He cups my jaw, his thumb tracing my kiss-swollen lip with a reverence that makes my heart ache.
He’s no longer in a rush to leave. For the first time since I came into the kitchen, he’s fully present with me—and just like that, I feel safe again, grounded.
“There can never be any doubts about how I feel about you, Luciana, do you understand? Ever. ”
I blink, startled by his raw passion. “I know you love me.”
He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Well, it’s way beyond that. I was yours from the moment I saw you in that club. You fucking possessed me. Why do you think I took you?”
My breath catches at his words. “Because you save women?”
He does his side nod. “You really have no idea of the power you have over me, do you?”
“Luciana,” he breathes, “Your emotions . . . they call to the deepest, darkest parts of my being. Compelling me to be what you need. And when I really got to know you, I got truly wrecked.”
I shiver as his words raise goosebumps on my skin.
“Your brilliant mind. Your brazenness. You were surrounded by death, yet you never flinched. Never ran . . .” His eyes burn into mine. “You just kept digging deeper into my soul until you made it impossible to breathe without you.”
“Oh, Cade,” I sob as his words crack me open, leaving me raw and exposed.
The tears I’d been holding back spill over, and he catches them with his thumbs, his gaze softening but losing none of its intensity.
“So instead of asking what I want, you tell me what you can give. Because I want all of it. Forever.”
Forever?
The word rings in my head like a gong. Cade was supposed to be something dangerous and elusive—a tempest that can’t be held, let alone tamed. And now he’s offering me the whole storm?
“I don’t—” My voice catches. “Cade, I might not have forever.”
His eyes hold mine, bottomless pools of green. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got. One minute or one hundred years. I want you bound to me in every way. Marry me.”
Christ. His words . . . Pure joy surges through me, but terror rises alongside it, clawing at my throat. That deep, gnawing fear I’ve tried so hard to bury.
What if I can’t give him what he needs?
“Cade, I—” My hand shakes as I step back from him. “It’s not the right time.”
His eyes narrow, like he can’t quite process what he’s hearing. “What do you mean, not the right time?”
I scramble for something— anything —that might make this easier. “It’s . . . um, too soon.” I take another step back. “We’re not ready.”
For a moment, he doesn’t move. He just stands there, jaw tight. And then, slowly, he nods as if weighing some invisible scale. “Will this help?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something I recognize instantly.
His kill list.
I w atch as he walks to a nearby drawer and yanks it open. The lighter flicks to life, the flame dancing with a quiet menace. For a moment, Cade just stares at it, the flame reflected in his eyes. Something flickers there—grief, maybe. Or relief. Or both.
My jaw unhinges at what he’s about to do. I’d playfully threatened him with this before, but I never thought . . . never imagined . . .
“Cade?” My voice is a strangled whisper. “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t respond.
The moment the flame kisses the parchment, my breath catches. Fire curls at the edges, devouring it hungrily, like the paper has been waiting all these years to burn. Cade lays the burning scroll on the marble countertop, clicks the lighter shut, and throws it back in the drawer.
Then he turns to face me.