Chapter Six Amethyst
Morning comes cold with gray light coming through the windows.
I’m awake before dawn. Kade’s beside me.
Still sleeping. His breathing even. Deep.
Not the shallow, frantic rhythm from six days ago.
Not the desperate gasping from three days ago.
This is rest. Real rest. I slip out of bed.
Quiet. He doesn’t stir. The kitchen is cold.
I start coffee. The smell fills the cabin.
Rich. Dark. Footsteps behind me. Kade. He moves to the window. Looks out at the tree line.
“She’ll be here soon," I say.
He nods. Doesn’t turn around. But his shoulders are relaxed.
His hands steady. This is different. Six days ago, he was unraveling.
Spiraling. Watching me sleep because he couldn’t trust himself.
Four days ago, he was desperate. Hungry.
Barely holding on. Now? Now he’s focused.
Grounded. Ready. The hunt did that. The claiming.
The aftercare. The cycle completed itself.
I pour two cups of coffee. Hand him one. He takes it. Sips.
“Thank you," he says.
I nod. And now we wait.
The sound of an engine cuts through the morning silence.
Different from her husband’s truck. Lighter.
Smoother. Kade’s head turns toward the driveway.
I move to the window. A sedan. Black. Nondescript.
The Raven drives herself. Interesting. She kills the engine and sits for a moment, then she gets out.
She’s dressed simply. Jeans. Dark jacket.
Hair pulled back. Professional. All business.
She walks to the porch. Doesn’t hesitate.
Doesn’t look around nervously. This is her element.
Control. Strategy. Purpose. Three knocks.
I open the door. She looks at me first. Her eyes drop to my throat. The bruises are fading. Yellowing at the edges. But still visible. Her gaze flicks to the mark on my shoulder. Just visible above my shirt collar. Then back to my face. No judgment. No concern. Just recognition. Understanding.
She knows. Of course she knows. Her husband is the same. I step aside. Let her in. Kade’s standing in the kitchen. Coffee cup in hand. She looks at him. Nods once.
“You look better," she says. Direct with no pretense.
“I am," Kade says.
She believes him. I can see it in the way her posture relaxes. Just slightly.
“Let’s sit," she says.
The kitchen table is small. Wooden. Scarred. We sit. The Raven across from us. She pulls a folder from her jacket. Sets it on the table. Opens it. Photos. Documents. Maps. Intel. “Enzo took over," she says. “After Giltrude."
I lean forward. Study the photos. Enzo. Mid-forties. Sharp suit. Cold eyes. I’ve seen him before. He worked close with Giltrude before we left. Ruthless. Ambitious.
“The organization is fractured," the Raven continues. “Giltrude’s death left a power vacuum. Enzo is consolidating control, but it’s not stable yet."
She spreads out more photos. Three more faces.
“These are the other key players," she says. “Enzo’s inner circle. They’re holding the organization together."
She taps each photo.
“Mateo, runs intelligence and surveillance. Lucia, handles enforcement and discipline. Rafe, controls the financial operations."
Four targets. Four people keeping the organization alive.
“They need to be eliminated," the Raven says. “All of them. Simultaneously if possible. Otherwise the survivors will scatter and rebuild."
She looks at me. Not at Kade. At me.
“We need someone inside," she says. “Someone who can get close enough to all four targets."
My stomach tightens. I know where this is going.
“We’ve gotten intel that they’re looking for you. Have been since Giltrude’s death.” she says. “Because they want you back they don’t know that you switched over. They just think you’ve been working a job. According to our inside person Giltrude kept you pretty secluded from the other workers."
Kade goes still beside me. Completely still. The kind of still that comes before violence. “You were Giltrude’s best," the Raven continues. “They know that. Enzo knows that. He’s been trying to consolidate power, but he’s missing a key piece. You."
She slides a document across the table.
“You go back. Tell them you’ve been in hiding. That you’re ready to return. You took a break because of Giltrude’s death."
“Absolutely not.”
The words leave before I can stop them.
Flat.
Immediate.
Final.
“Kade—”
“No.”
“You don’t get to decide this.”
His head snaps toward me. “Watch me.”“Then give me another option.”
Silence.
“Then stop acting like there is one.”
The Raven looks at him. “It’s the only option," she says.
“No," Kade repeats. “Find another way."
“There is no other way."
The Raven’s voice doesn’t change. Still calm. Still matter-of-fact.
“No one else can get close enough. They’re looking for her specifically. They want her back. She’s the only one who can walk in that door without getting killed on sight."
Kade’s hand is on the table. Fingers spread. Pressing down. I can see the tension in his shoulders. The rigidity in his spine.
“Absolutely not, she’s not going in alone," he says.
“She has to."
The Raven taps the photos.
“They know you killed Giltrude. You show your face anywhere near that organization, you’re dead. And so is she."
Kade’s jaw clenches. I can see it. The war inside him. Wanting to destroy the threat, but sending me in alone goes against every instinct he has. Every possessive, protective, predatory instinct.
“We’ll have backup," the Raven says. “Extraction plan. Surveillance. You’ll be monitoring from outside. If it goes wrong, we pull her out."
“If it goes wrong, she’s dead before we can get to her," Kade says.
His voice is getting sharper. Edges showing. The Raven doesn’t flinch.
“Yes," she says. “That’s the risk."
She looks at me.
“Your call," she says.
I don’t hesitate. “I’m in."
Kade’s head snaps toward me.
“No."
“Yes," I say. Calm. Steady. I meet his eyes. “This is the mission. This is what we do."
“Not this," Kade says. “Not you. Not alone."
“There’s no other option."
“Then we don’t do it."
“And then what?" I ask. “We stay here? Hide? Wait for them to find us?"
His hand curls into a fist on the table.
“We need this,” I say quietly. “Being able to come out of hiding. Without it—"
“I don’t need it that badly."
Liar. I can see it in his eyes. The hunger. The edge. He’s stable now. Grounded. But it won’t last. Not without purpose. Not without a hunt.
“You do," I say. “And so do I."
I look at the Raven.
“Timeline?"
“Three days," she says. “You’ll go in there and tell them who you are and You’ll make contact with them. " She pulls out another document. Address. Date. Details.
“You’ll tell them you’re ready to come back. That you’ve been lying low. That you want back in now that your mentor is gone."
She slides more papers across. I pull the documents toward me. Study them. Kade is vibrating beside me. Silent. But I can feel it. The rage. The fear. The absolute refusal to accept this.
“I have a walkie talkie that you will take with you," the Raven says. “Audio. You’ll have to check in so then we know that you are okay, if anything goes wrong, we extract immediately."
“And if you can’t get to me in time?" I ask.
She doesn’t sugarcoat it. “Then you’re on your own until we can."
I nod. Expected that.
“Weapons?" I ask.
“Whatever you can conceal. They’ll search you when you arrive. Expect that."
I nod again. Knife in my boot. Always. Maybe something smaller. Backup.
“Three days," the Raven says. “Use them to prepare."
She stands. We follow. She walks to the door. Pauses. Looks at Kade.
“Keep her sharp," she says. Then at me. “Stay alive."
She leaves. The door closes. Silence. Kade and I stand in the kitchen. The folder sits on the table. Photos of four targets staring up at us. Enzo. Mateo. Lucia. Rafe. Four people I need to get close to. Four people I need to kill.
“No," Kade says again. Quieter this time. Almost broken.
I turn to him. His eyes are wild. Desperate. The predator is there. But it’s not focused. It’s panicking.
“I can do this," I say.
“I know you can." His voice cracks. “That’s not the point."
“Then what is?"
“I can’t—" He stops. Swallows. “If something happens to you—"
“It won’t."
“You don’t know that."
“No," I admit. “I don’t."
I step closer. Put my hand on his chest. Feel his heart pounding.
“But this is the job," I say. “This is what we are."
His hand covers mine. Grips it. Too tight.
“I can’t lose you," he says. The words sound torn out of him. Like admitting them hurts. I’ve never heard fear in his voice before. Not real fear.. His other hand comes up. Grabs my jaw. Forces me to look at him. His eyes are black. Completely black. The predator is right there. At the surface.
“If you go silent," he says. His voice is low. Fractured. “If I lose contact with you. If they hide you from me."
He leans in. His forehead against mine.
“I will burn that organization to the ground," he whispers. “I will kill every single person in it. I will tear through them like they’re nothing." His grip tightens. “And I won’t stop,"
he continues. “I can’t stop. Not if I can’t reach you. Not if I can’t hear you."
He pulls back. Looks at me. Really looks at me.
“You stay in contact," he says. “You check in. You let me know you’re alive.
" His voice drops. Becomes something else entirely. Something that isn’t quite human.
“Because if you don’t," he says, “I will come in. And I will destroy everything. Everyone. No one will be safe. I can’t guarantee my control. I won’t even try. "
He releases me. Steps back. His hands are shaking.
“That’s not a threat," he says quietly. “That’s a promise." His eyes meet mine. Cold. Certain. “Stay in contact," he repeats. “Or I burn it all."
“I know you will.” I say. Because its true. He’ll destroy everything just to get to me. “Three days," I say. “We prepare. We plan. We make sure I come back."
His eyes search mine. Looking for certainty. For reassurance. For something to hold onto. I don’t look away.
“Together," I say.
He closes his eyes. His grip on my hand tightens. Then loosens. Just slightly.
“Always," he whispers.
But it sounds like a prayer. Like a plea. Like he’s trying to will it into existence. I pull the folder toward us. Open it.
“Let’s get to work," I say.
He doesn’t move for a long moment. Just stands there.
Hand over mine. Eyes closed. Fighting something inside himself.
Then he opens his eyes. Looks down at the photos.
At the targets. At the mission. His jaw sets.
The predator focuses. Sharpens. But underneath it, I can see the fear.
The terror. The absolute certainty that this is going to go wrong. “Three days," he says.
His voice is steady. But his hand is still gripping mine. Like if he lets go, I’ll disappear. “Three days," I repeat.
And we begin.