Chapter Twenty-eight Kade

It’s dark outside I should be sleeping. But can’t. The monitors beep. Steady. Rhythmic. Mocking. My chest throbs. Constant. Deep. The punctured lung is healing. Slowly. Too slowly.

I stare at the ceiling. Count the tiles. Seventeen across. Twenty-three down. Three hundred ninety-one total. I’ve counted them six times.

The door is closed.

Amethyst has moved to the other room next doors.

Thought I wouldn’t notice. Thought I’d rest if she wasn’t here. She’s wrong. She didn’t want to disturb me. She’s working. I know she is. Know she can’t stop. Can’t rest. Not while Enzo is out there. Not while the hunt is unfinished. I understand. I’m the same.

But she’s hurt. Broken ribs. Cuts. Scares I can still see every time I close my eyes.

The thought makes something ugly wake up inside me. Something violent. Something patient. Something waiting for the chance to kill.

At some point I hear a sound. Muffled. Through the wall. I go still. Listen. Nothing.

Then—

There.

Again.

A gasp. Sharp. Pained.

Amethyst.

I sit up. Too fast. My chest explodes. White-hot. Searing.

I gasp. Fall back. Breathe through it. Shallow. Careful. Another sound. Louder this time. A cry. Cut off. Strangled.

Something’s wrong. I force myself up. Slower.

Controlled. The pain is immediate. Radiating.

Consuming. I don’t care. My feet hit the floor.

Cold. Grounding. I stand. The room tilts.

Just for a second. I grip the bed rail. Wait for it to pass.

The monitors alarm. Heart rate spiking. I rip the sensors off.

Silence. Better. I move to the door. Each step is agony.

My chest screams. The wound pulls. Threatens to tear.

I reach the door. Grip the handle. Pull it open.

The hallway is empty. Quiet. She’s next door.

I move. Slow. Deliberate. Each breath is fire. Each step is torture.

I need to get to her. Because she’s mine. Because she’s hurt. Because I heard her cry.

Because I can’t fucking wait anymore.

I reach her door. Press my ear against it. Silence. Then— A whimper. Soft. Broken. Trying to be quiet. The rage ignites. Not wild. Not uncontrolled. Cold. Lethal. Focused. I open the door.

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