Chapter Twenty-seven Kade
The door closes. Silence. I’m alone. Finally. I try to sit up. Pain. Immediate. Searing. My chest explodes. White-hot. Radiating. I gasp. Fall back. Fuck. My hand goes to the bandages. Careful. Testing. The wound is there. Real. Throbbing. A bullet. Marcus put a bullet in me.
I’ve been shot before—no. No, I haven’t. Stabbed, yes. Cut, yes. Broken bones, yes. But never shot. Never this. The realization sits heavy. Foreign. I don’t like it. Don’t like the weakness. The vulnerability. The fact that my body won’t obey. I breathe. Shallow. Careful. Even that hurts.
The Raven said punctured lung. Surgery. Twelve days. Twelve fucking days I’ve been down. Unconscious. Useless. While Marcus was breathing. While Enzo was escaping. The rage surfaces. Slow. Controlled. Not the wild thing that takes over during a hunt. This is different. Colder. Calculated. Lethal.
Marcus is down the hallway. Right now. Locked up. Contained. Waiting. The thought makes something dark unfurl in my chest. Not the predator. Something worse. Something patient. Marcus shot me. Tried to kill me. Tried to take her. Thought she wanted him. Thought—
I close my eyes. Breathe through the pain. The image is clear. Vivid. Marcus standing over me. Gun raised. Amethyst screaming. The shot. The fall. The darkness. He tried to take her from me. Tried to make her his. The delusion of it. The fucking audacity.
My hands curl into fists. The monitors beep.
Faster. Heart rate climbing. I force myself to relax.
Slow. Deliberate. Control. Marcus isn’t going anywhere.
He’s contained. Locked. Guarded. I have time.
All the time I need. To heal. To plan. To make him understand exactly what he took from me.
What he tried to take. The predator stirs.
Hungry. Eager. But I push it down. Not yet.
Not until I can move. Not until I can stand without my chest tearing open.
Not until I can make it last. Because it will last. Hours.
Days if I can manage it. I’ll take him apart.
Piece by piece. Make him feel every second of what he tried to do.
What he thought he could do. The thought steadies me. Grounds me.
Marcus is handled. Contained. A problem for later.
But Enzo— Enzo is different. Enzo escaped.
Slipped away in the chaos. While I was bleeding out.
While Amethyst was screaming. While Marcus was pulling the trigger.
Enzo got away. The rage shifts. Sharpens.
Focuses. Enzo tortured her. Cut her. Broke her ribs.
Made her bleed. Made her scream. And then he ran.
Like a coward. Like prey. My jaw tightens.
The monitors spike again. I don’t care. Enzo is out there.
Somewhere. Hiding. Waiting. Thinking he’s safe. Thinking he escaped.
He didn’t. He just delayed it. Delayed the inevitable.
Because I’m coming. Injured or not. Healed or not.
I’m coming. And when I find him— When I finally get my hands on him— There won’t be anything left.
No body. No evidence. Nothing. Just blood.
And silence. And the knowledge that he should have killed me when he had the chance.
I try to sit up again. Slower this time. Careful. The pain hits. Sharp. Immediate. But I push through it. Grit my teeth. Force my body to obey. I get halfway up. Propped on my elbows. Breathing hard. Ragged. Uneven.
The room spins. Just for a second. I close my eyes.
Wait for it to pass. When I open them, I’m still upright.
Still conscious. Still here. Progress. Small.
Pathetic. But progress. I lower myself back down.
Slow. Controlled. The pain eases. Slightly.
Not enough. Never enough. But manageable.
I stare at the ceiling. One week. The Raven said one week.
Maybe more. Before I’m cleared to move. To walk.
One week. Seven days. One hundred sixty-eight hours.
Ten thousand eighty minutes. Too long. Far too long.
But I’ll wait. I’ll heal. I’ll plan. And then— Then I’ll move.
Cleared or not. Ready or not. Because Marcus is down the hallway.
And Enzo is out there. And both of them need to die.
The door opens. Amethyst. She’s carrying a folder.
Papers. Maps. Intel. Her face is careful.
Controlled. But I see it. The worry. The fear.
The exhaustion. She’s been working. Non-stop.
While I was unconscious. While I was useless.
She’s been hunting. Planning. Preparing.
For me. For us. The thought makes something warm unfurl in my chest. Different from the rage.
Different from the hunt. Love. Actual fucking love.
She walks to the bed. Sets the folder down. Looks at me.
“You tried to sit up." Not a question. A statement.
“Yes."
“How far did you get?"
“Halfway."
She nods. Doesn’t lecture. Doesn’t tell me to stop. She knows better. Knows I won’t listen. Knows I can’t.
“Jake’s report," she says. Opens the folder. Spreads out the papers. Maps. Photos. Locations. “Four safe houses," she continues. “Surveillance teams are watching all of them."
I study the maps. Memorize. Catalog. Northern district. Eastern suburbs. South side near the docks. And the fourth— West end. Industrial. Isolated.
“Which one," I say. My voice is rough. Strained. She shakes her head.
“We don’t know yet. No activity at any of them."
“How long have they been watching."
“Three days."
I process that. Three days. No movement. No signs. Either Enzo is hiding. Or he’s already gone. Moved to a location we don’t know about. The thought makes the rage spike. Sharp. Immediate.
“We’ll find him," Amethyst says. Quiet. Certain.
I look at her. Really look. She’s pale. Thinner than before.
The ribs are wrapped. Hidden under her shirt.
But I know they’re there. Broken. Healing.
Painful. She’s hurt. Because of Enzo. Because of Marcus.
Because I wasn’t there. Wasn’t fast enough.
Wasn’t strong enough. The guilt surfaces. Heavy. Suffocating.
“I should have—"
“Don’t." Her voice is firm. Final. “Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself."
“I wasn’t there."
“You came. You saved me."
“Not fast enough."
“Fast enough."
She sits on the edge of the bed. Careful. Her hand finds mine. Squeezes. “You came for me," she says. “Even though you knew it was a trap. Even though you knew you might die. You came."
“Of course I came."
“I know."
She leans forward. Kisses me. Gentle. Careful. When she pulls back, her eyes are wet. “We’ll get him," she says. “Together. When you’re healed. When we’re both ready."
“I’m ready now."
“You’re not."
“I can—"
“You can’t." Her voice is harder now. “You can barely sit up. You can’t walk. You can’t fight. Not yet."
I want to argue. Want to prove her wrong. But I can’t. Because she’s right. My body won’t obey. Won’t cooperate. Won’t let me do what I need to do. Not yet.
“One week," I say.
“Yes."
“And then we move."
“Yes."
I settle back. Close my eyes. The pain is still there. Constant. Throbbing. But manageable. For now.
“Tell me about Marcus," I say. My voice is quiet. Calm. Deadly.
Amethyst is silent. For a long moment. Then she speaks.
“He thought I wanted him. Thought we were—something. More than partners. More than friends."
“And you didn’t."
“No. Never."
“He shot me to get to you."
“Yes."
“To take you away."
“Yes."
I open my eyes. Look at her. “Does he know that I’m alive?”
“Yes. Looked like he was going to die of fright when he learned he didn’t kill you.”
I close my eyes again. Let the image form. Marcus. Locked up. Waiting. Terrified. Knowing what’s coming. Knowing I’m alive. Knowing I’m healing. Knowing that every hour that passes— Every day— Brings him closer to the end. The thought makes me smile. Small. Cold. Predatory.
“Kade—"
“I’m not going to kill him yet," I say. “Not until I can do it properly."
“Properly."
“Slowly."
Silence. Heavy. Charged.
“I won’t stop you," she says finally.
“I know."
“But not yet. Not until you’re healed."
“I know."
She squeezes my hand. Stands. “Rest. I’ll be back in an hour with food."
“Amethyst."
She pauses. Looks back.
“Thank you."
“For what."
“For everything."
She doesn’t respond. Just nods. And leaves. The door closes. Silence again. I’m alone. But not really. Because Marcus is down the hallway. And Enzo is out there. I just have to wait. Heal. Plan. And then— Then I hunt.
One week. Seven days. I can wait seven days.
I’ve waited longer. Endured worse. This is nothing.
Just time. Just patience. Just the calm before the kill.
I close my eyes. Breathe. Shallow. Careful.
The pain is there. Constant. Reminding me.
I’m alive. I’m healing. I’m coming. And when I do— When I finally move— Nothing will stop me.
Not The Raven. Not orders. Not even Amethyst. Because Marcus tried to take her.
And Enzo hurt her. And both of them need to die.
Slowly. Painfully. Completely. I smile. Small.
Cold. Lethal. One week. Just one week. And then the hunt begins.