Chapter Seventeen Kade
It’s nine forty-seven and the cabin is too small. Too quiet. Too empty. I'm pacing. Back and forth. Living room to kitchen. Kitchen to bedroom. Bedroom to living room. Again.
And again.
And again.
A predator in a cage.
Trapped.
Confined.
Separated from what’s mine.
My hands shake. I clench them. Unclench.
Clench again. The tremor doesn't stop. Hasn't stopped for hours.
Maybe days. I've lost track. The communicator sits on the table.
Silent. Mocking. Twenty-three hours until the next call.
Twenty-three hours of this. This waiting.
This nothing. This slow descent into— I stop. Force myself to breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
It doesn't help. The predator is too close. Too loud.
Demanding.
Hunt.
Move.
Get to her.
Nothing to hunt. Nothing to chase. Nothing I can do to bring her back faster. And the silence. And the fear. I resume pacing. Faster now. More frantic. The cabin blurs. Furniture. Windows. Doors. All of it meaningless. All of it wrong. I need out. Need to move. Need to— My phone.
On the counter. I stop. Stare at it. The Raven's husband. Jake. He gave me his number.
When he came to the cabin.
*In case you need anything.* That's what he said. I grab the phone. Unlock it. Find his contact.
My thumb hovers. Hesitates. What am I doing?
Calling for help?
Admitting I can't handle this?
Admitting she’s gotten under my skin deep enough to break me?
That I'm— Weak. Broken. Spiraling.
I press call. Before I can stop myself. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Kade." His voice. Steady. Calm. Grounding.
"Jake." Silence. Brief.
He's waiting. Assessing.
"I—" The words stick. Won't come. How do I say it? How do I admit—
"You okay?"
Two words. Simple. Direct.
"No."
Truth. Raw. Honest.
"Where are you?"
"The cabin."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
Because she’s not here.
More silence. Longer this time. I can hear him thinking. Processing.
"Talk to me," he says finally.
"I can't—" I stop.
Try again.
"I need to move. Need to do something. The waiting is—"
"Killing you."
"Yes."
He understands. Doesn't judge. Doesn't tell me to calm down. Just— Understands.
"How long since her last check-in?"
"An hour. Less actually. Forty-seven minutes."
"And the next one?"
"Twenty-three hours. Thirteen minutes."
He exhales. Slow. Controlled.
"That's a long time."
"Yes."
"And you're alone."
"Yes."
"Spiraling."
Not a question. A statement.
"Yes."
Another pause. I can hear movement. Footsteps. A door closing.
"There's something," he says.
My chest tightens.
"What?"
"An assignment. Been sitting on the list for a while. Needs to be handled."
The predator perks up. Interested. Alert.
"What kind of assignment?"
"The kind The Raven usually handles."
A kill. He's talking about a kill.
"Why hasn't she?"
"Been focused on your situation. On Amethyst. This one's been waiting."
On Amethyst.
Every thought stops.
Her name does that.
"Tell me."
"Kade—"
"Tell me."
He's quiet. Thinking. Weighing.
"I'm not sure you're ready for this."
"I'm ready."
"Are you?"
The question lands. Heavy. Pointed. Am I? Ready? Stable enough? Controlled enough? I don't know. But I need this. Need the outlet. Need the hunt.
"Yes," I say. Firm. Certain. Even if I'm not.
"The Raven isn't convinced."
"Then convince her."
Because if I stay here, I’m going after her.
"It's not that simple."
"It is."
"Kade—"
"I need this, Jake." My voice cracks. Breaks. Desperate. "I need to do something. Need to move. If I stay here—
if I just wait—"
I can't finish. Can't say what happens. What I become. He knows anyway.
"Let me talk to her," he says.
Relief. Immediate. Overwhelming.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. She might say no."
"But you'll ask."
"Yes."
Silence again. But different this time. Less heavy. Less suffocating.
"Kade."
"Yeah?"
"This isn't about the kill, is it?"
The question catches me. Off guard. Vulnerable.
"What do you mean?"
"You're not calling because you want to hunt. You're calling because you need to not think about her. About what might be happening."
Truth. Sharp. Cutting.
"Maybe."
"That's not a good reason to take an assignment."
"It's the only reason I have."
He's quiet. Thinking. Then—
"I'm coming over."
"What?"
"To the cabin. We'll talk about the assignment. See if you're actually ready for this."
"Jake—"
"The Raven wants to make sure you're mentally stable enough. That you can handle it. That you won't—"
"Lose control."
"Yes."
I close my eyes. He's right. They're both right. I might not be ready. Might not be stable. Might be too close to the edge. But I need this. Need something. Anything.
Because every minute I’m sitting here, I’m thinking about her.
About where she is. Who she’s with. Whether she’s safe.
"Okay," I say.
"I'll be there in forty minutes."
"Okay."
"Kade."
"Yeah?"
"Don't do anything stupid before I get there."
"I won't."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
I mean it when I say it. Whether I can keep it is another question.
He hangs up. The line goes dead. Silence. But it's different now. Less oppressive. Less crushing. Because something is happening. Someone is coming. There's movement. Purpose. Direction.
I set the phone down. Look at the clock. Forty minutes. I can survive forty minutes.
I have to. I resume pacing. But slower now. More controlled.
The predator is still there. Still hungry. Still demanding. Still waiting for her. But it's quieter.
There's a hunt coming.
And that—
That's enough.
For now.
At ten forty-seven exactly forty minutes after Jake told me he would be here I see his truck pull up.
I'm already at the window. Jake gets out.
Folder in his hands. The assignment. He walks up the porch.
I open the door before he knocks. He steps inside.
Doesn't waste time. Walks straight to the table. I follow.
Jake doesn’t open the folder just sets it down. He watches me. Studying. Evaluating.
The way a hunter studies another hunter. Looking for hesitation. Looking for instability. Looking for the moment a predator becomes prey.
“Before we discuss the assignment, we’re discussing you.” Jake says in a stern voice.
Not a suggestion. An order.
I don’t argue. Wouldn’t matter if I did. Jake has already made his decision.
Now he’s determining whether he’ll change it.
“You understand why part of the reason why Raven didn’t send you in?”
I nod.
“They were questioning your control. Doesn’t help their organization is looking for you after you took out multiple of their men after they took you.”
The words hit harder than they should. Because they’re true.
A predator without control doesn’t survive. Doesn’t stay hidden. Which is how they were able to get to me so easily before.
Jake leans back in his chair.
“You’ve always been violent.”
No judgment. Just facts.
“You’ve always been obsessive. But never reckless. Not until after Amethyst.”
I look away.
“You killed in anger. Not obsession. And you almost got caught because of it.”
The room falls silent.
Heavy.
Measured.
Jake lets the words sit.
Lets them sink in. Because predators learn more from silence than lectures.
“You know what the difference is?” he asks.
I don’t answer. Jake doesn’t expect me to.
“Obsession is patient.”
His eyes stay on mine.
“Obsession watches.”
A pause.
“Obsession plans.”
The folder sits between us.
Untouched. Waiting.
“But anger?” His jaw tightens slightly. “Anger is sloppy.”
I already know this. Know it better than most.
Jake leans forward.
“Anger wants immediate satisfaction.” His voice is calm. Controlled. “Predators don’t survive on immediate satisfaction.”
Another pause.
“They survive because they wait.”
The words land harder than they should. Because waiting has always been my strength. Until her.
Amethyst.
Jake studies me. Searching. Looking for something. Finding it.
“You remember what happened after they took you?”
Not a question. A statement. A warning.
My jaw clenches. The predator stirs. Restless.
Jake notices.
“You stopped hunting.”I say nothing. I was forced to stop. Had to hide. Had to wait.
“You stopped thinking like a predator and started thinking like prey.”
That gets my attention. My eyes snap to his. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t back down.
Predator to Predator.
Challenge accepted.
“You let fear make decisions for you.”
The accusation hangs between us.
Sharp.
Ugly.
“I adapted. I fought back. I made it back.”
The words leave before I can stop them.
Jake almost smiles. Not amusement. Recognition.
“Good.”I frown.
“Good?”
“You argued.”
Silence.
“The second you stop fighting for your position is the second I know you’ve broken.”
His gaze sharpens.
“And you’re not broken.” The room goes quiet. The assessment complete. The decision made.
Jake finally places his hands on the folder.
“This assignment isn’t a reward.”
His fingers tap the cover once.
“It’s a test.”
The predator in me wakes immediately. Alert.
Interested.
Hungry.
Jake sees it.
Nods once.
“There you are.”
The room falls quiet. Not the silence from before.
Different.
The assessment is over. Now he’s confirming what he already knows. For the next forty minutes he ask questions.
About Amethyst.
About the waiting.
About the anger.
About the control.
I answer every one. No lies. No excuses. Just facts.
Jake listens. Watches. Measures. By the end, he leans back in his chair and gives a single nod. Decision made.
“You’re in an okay head space,” he says. “Not great. But okay. Enough to handle this.”
Relief hits harder than I expected. The breath I’d been holding slips from my lungs. Jake finally pushes the folder towards me.
“This assignment is your normal MO. Which is why it's been sitting. The Raven wasn't sure if you were ready for something you normally go after when you were killing chaotically.” Jake says.
It seems like he’s a little apprehensive with me taking on this one. It’s going to be a rough one for sure.
I look at the folder. Open it. Photos. Documents. A name.
Wendy Carfell.
My blood boils. Immediately. Violently.