Chapter 30 Cade #2
Still on the ground, the world still spinning, I throw my leg out—my boot connecting with Frank’s knee.
Crack.
He stumbles, balance broken, and his grip loosens. Genevieve crashes to the ground with a sickening thud, her hands flying to her throat as she struggles for air.
I scramble—my chest burning, ground still shifting—eyes on the gun.
Almost. Fucking. There.
Frank’s hand seizes my ankle as my fingers brush the grip and he yanks me back hard across the dirt. Before I can stop it, he throws his full weight on top of me, straddling my legs, massive hands clamping down around my throat.
Pressure—white-hot and crushing. I fight, squirm, and claw at him, but his grip only tightens, that sick smile back on his ugly face.
I can feel it. The cartilage folding. The air being locked out.
Everything dims as my vision tunnels, the edges blackening.
Somewhere in the chaos, I glimpse Genevieve crawling toward Ben, screaming, begging, but her voice is distant… like I’m underwater.
And then it hits me. I’m dying…
I think of you.
My little ghost.
I’m sorry… I—I lov—
BANG.
The weight on top of me goes limp, Frank’s body slumping forward as his grip slips from my neck.
I inhale a jagged, desperate breath. My lungs seize and I cough violently, tears springing to my eyes from the force of it.
As my vision slowly clears, I look up.
Ben stands over me, bleeding and shaking, the barrel of the gun still pointed at Frank’s skull. His hand is pressed to his side, blood spilling between his fingers.
He saved me.
I stay on the ground a beat longer, forcing my lungs to work, my throat raw and spasming. Then I push Frank’s body off me, his dead weight thudding beside my leg. Motherfucker weighs a ton.
Each breath still feels like fire as I fight to steady it—my voice torn and broken when I finally speak.
“You good?” I garble.
Ben grimaces, shifting his weight. His hand’s slick with blood and he nods sharply.
“I’ll live. Gen fixed it enough so it won’t kill me.” He exhales in a hiss, biting down the pain. “But you two need to get the fuck out of here.”
“What?” Genevieve’s voice cuts in, tight with panic. “No—no. You’re coming, too.” Her hands are already on him, clinging.
Ben pulls out his phone without meeting her eyes.
“That was never the plan, sweetheart. The plan was to get you out.”
She shakes her head, tears falling as she clutches his arm. “No… no, please. You can’t stay. You can’t.”
“I didn’t do all this to blow the one ounce of trust I earned from that bitch,” he tells her bluntly, already dialing. “If I was coming with you, I never would’ve brought him here.”
Genevieve lunges, trying to grab the phone, but he pushes her back with a soft shove as he speaks.
“You need to get here,” Ben says coldly into the receiver, his eyes on hers. “They escaped. He’s got the witch. Frank’s down. Bring backup.”
Click.
He lowers the phone, letting it fall to the ground with a soft thud.
“Fuck you, Ben!” She pounds against his chest with both of her small fists and he lets her. Doesn’t even flinch.
Then quietly, to me, his eyes still on hers, “Get her the fuck out of here.”
He reaches out with trembling fingers and cups her cheek. She freezes under his touch, sobs caught in her throat, her fists curling into his bloody shirt.
“Go with him, baby,” he says in the softest voice I’ve heard from him. “I’ll find you.”
His smile is thin, pain laced behind it. “Always,” he promises, pressing a kiss to her temple.
He steps back and meets my eyes.
I don’t say a word, just nod.
I stoop to grab the gun, flip the safety on, and slide it into my waistband. Then I lift her, arms beneath her knees and shoulders, cradling her gently. She doesn’t fight it, just presses her face into my neck, crying silently.
I take off down the road, fast and steady, breaths rattling through my fucked-up windpipe. Through the trees, I catch sight of Jack’s truck, the headlights off, dark and ready.
I don’t look back.
I reach it fast, my legs threatening to give out as I throw the door open, placing Genevieve gently in the back seat. She curls in on herself, hands over her face, sobbing into her palms.
I climb into the passenger seat, biting down a groan as pain radiates through every single nerve, my body slumping.
Jack says nothing as he whips the vehicle around and speeds off, his hands gripping the wheel with white knuckles.
In the rearview, silent tears drip from Genevieve’s chin.
I glance back and get her attention, pointing to my neck.
She wipes her face with a sniffle and crawls forward, placing trembling hands at my throat.
The warmth blooms instantly.
A sharp pulse radiates down to my chest, searing but familiar. The dull ache starts to melt, though it takes my breath with it.
Jack watches in the mirror. “What are you doing to him?” he asks sharply.
“I’m accelerating his metabolic rate—stimulating the healing response,” she says, voice flat, eyes red from crying.
Jack’s eyebrows lift, looking incredulous. “What, like cell regeneration?”
“Yes. But the body wasn’t meant to heal this fast. Too much heat for too long will kill him.”
“It’s fucking hot,” I mutter, my head dropping back to rest against the seat.
She pulls her hands away immediately. “That’s enough for now.”
I let out a breath, wiping the sweat from my brow.
Jack huffs, shooting a look at me. “Useful. Wonder if Calli could do that.”
“She told you,” I comment, unsurprised.
“More like nearly killed me,” he grumbles under his breath. “Fried my rig, too. But… she found you. So that makes us even or whatever.” He glances at Genevieve in the mirror. “I’m Jack, by the way.” He gives her one of his soft smiles.
“Gen,” she mumbles back without emotion.
We fall into silence, just the hum of the engine and the ever-present ache between my ribs.
I let her calm down for a few moments before I look back at her again. “Rosa’s not going to stay there,” I say to Jack. “If Calli found me—maybe she can find Rosa.”
Jack’s mouth tightens. “Calli said it was too much—she didn’t look good.” He winces, shooting me an apologetic look. “I’ll find her,” he adds quickly. “Eventually.”
I don’t respond. Instead, I turn—my voice lower now, steel buried under exhaustion.
“Genevieve.”
She doesn’t look up, just stares blankly out the window.
“You said you’d help me if I got you out,” I remind her, my eyes locked on her face. She still won’t look at me, but now the avoidance is pointed, her lips drawn tight.
“So, tell me—who the fuck is Alabaster?”