Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
CADEN
Life lay like a feather in my arms, and with every stilted breath she took, I wondered if it was my life she was holding on to and not her own.
Ash told me she would be okay. She was strong.
A fighter. Until I saw her eyes open and felt her heart steady against my palm, I struggled to fully let myself believe.
So much had been taken away already. There was so much agony and grief.
And even if the thought wouldn’t completely solidify in my head, I understood in my gut that if she decided to bail on this world, there was no coming back for me.
Like a chain she had hold of, she would bring me down with her.
Tension trotted up and down my spine, my boots nipping at Zander’s heels as he led us downstairs, dipping below the ground level of the house to a huge underground space.
The threat of war in this country, in the Eastern bloc, was never a far-off notion.
We lived in the present with wounds from a past still marking the people and buildings like scars, with a future on the horizon set on repeat.
Suspicion, violence, power, greed, pain, death, grief, loss. It lived in our blood, was stamped in our DNA, and molded our behaviors. We grew accustomed to sorrow and suffering. And that was even before the fae came into the mix. We were replaying it all over again, just with different leads.
Though in that suffering, the importance of life, of love, of the family became deeper to us than most. There was no room for bullshit. We loved harder, appreciated more, and tried to live in the moment.
When my father fired that gun, he aimed for what would make me suffer the most. My death might have given me peace, an end to the suffering. That was exactly what he didn’t want. He wanted to hurt me. To shove his hand into my chest and rip out what was still beating inside.
My gaze went down to the small fae in my arms, her head sagging, her limbs limp, blood coating her face and body, streaking her white-blonde hair. My heart surged up into my throat, my gut twisting with an emotion so overwhelming it made me dizzy.
Birdie was stunning. Anyone could see that.
Though it wasn’t her beauty that sucked all the air out of my lungs.
I couldn’t even explain what it was exactly.
What she made me feel. It scared the shit out of me because I knew it went beyond the sex, though that was mind-blowing.
It rocked me to my core. I couldn’t stay away.
I loved her defensiveness, her combative, fierce nature.
She challenged me, pushed me, and did not back down.
I could see her walls and the armor she wore, and I felt it crack just a little every time I was inside her. Every time we lay together after.
At the safe house, something flipped. I didn’t move from the bed after, nor did she. We lay together, touching each other and talking. Finding out more about each other. More that bonded us.
Her parents were so drugged out most days that they didn’t feed or even change her diaper when she was a baby, letting her sit in her own feces for days.
Her father even tried to sell her off once to get another hit when she was a teenager.
She ran away later, finding her family with Scorpion, Maddox, and Wesley before they became part of Sarkis’s army.
I could relate. My father sold me too. To a country he wanted to rule, to a woman he already impregnated, to ensure our family line was rooted forever.
Then he tried to make me one of his monsters, a guinea pig to go before him, and when he thought that failed, he put me in the Games to be slaughtered before his eyes.
Her breath faltered in my arms, panic surging from me.
“In here!” Zander motioned us through a doorway, exposing a large room full of cots and medical supplies, much like the setup we had at Vajdahunyad Castle.
I was so focused on Birdie I didn’t notice anything else as I placed her body on an empty cot, my gut knotting when her chest stopped for a moment.
“She needs medical attention! Help her!” I screamed, searching the room for healers. “Now!”
My gaze landed on the one nearest to me, my head jerking back with shock at the woman before me.
“Caden?” Her eyes widened, hope, love, and joy filling them.
“M-Mom?” I gaped. The woman I grew up with, the one draped in diamonds and top-of-the-line fashion.
The queen of HDF who was always on, keeping emotions at bay, and me at arm’s length, playing her part as the beautiful wife of the General to a T, was gone.
I had seen it slowly melt away before I left, but this time I not only saw the difference but felt it in her demeanor.
Dressed in cargo pants, a worn sweater, and dingy boots, her hair was tied up in a ponytail, with no makeup on. She looked tired, but also the most beautiful and real I had ever seen her in my life, comfortable in her own skin.
Emotion flooded her face, watering her eyes, looking as if she wanted to run to me, embrace me, but she took in my expression, my terror, and ran to us.
“Help her!” I bellowed as she came around, other healers running at my entreaties. “Please!”
Two healers moved on either side of her, checking her vitals.
“Do something!” I screamed at them as my mother grabbed my arm, yanking me away from the bed. “You have to heal her.”
“They are, Caden. Let them work.” Mom pushed me back. I was now a thousand times stronger than her, but I stumbled back, letting her pull me away, my gaze still on Birdie as the healer tore off the clothing hiding the gunshot wound, injecting her with something.
My eyes went to my mom, her brown eyes soft and filled with grief, like she was suffering my pain.
“Do something . . . she can’t die.” My voice came out weak and broken, revealing my fear.
“I wish I could, but I’m just helping out down here. Mainly with the kids. I don’t know enough yet.” She rubbed a comforting hand on my arm. “She’s in the best hands, Caden.”
I swallowed, not able to tear my eyes from Birdie. Mom’s attention followed mine to the tiny blonde, then back to me questioningly. I could hear the question she didn’t ask. Who is she to you?
I would have answered, I don’t know, but all I could feel swimming in my gut was one word. Everything.
I watched the healers clean and sew up Birdie’s wound, giving her a painkiller. Her breath was steady, her expression peaceful. My adrenaline nosedived, sinking my shoulders down. I took in a shaky breath, feeling the recoil of emotions.
“Father shot her,” I said hoarsely, almost more reminding myself of the truth.
“What?” Mother blinked at me, her mouth parting.
“I thought he was going to shoot me, but instead . . .” My voice cracked. “He knew. Somehow, he knew.”
Grief for me filled my mother’s expression, and she pulled me into a hug. She had embraced me many times in my life, but it was always a little stiff and cold, my father berating her, saying it would only make me weak.
This time, warmth and fierce love engulfed me. She didn’t hold back, now finally allowed to show her affection for me. My mother had been through hell, but seeing her now, how she had flourished and grown, she seemed lighter, like she no longer had to act a part.
“I’m so sorry, Caden,” she whispered in my ear. My arms tightened around her, needing the strength of my mother like I was a little boy. “I am so sorry.”
I nodded, my teeth clamping together, keeping back the dam wanting to break.
“She’ll be okay.” She sounded so sure. “I promise.”
The word punched my lungs, feeling the weight of it, the understanding which separated me from my mother now.
She was human. I was not.
Promises by humans were easily broken, something they said to calm and reassure someone, the word almost becoming meaningless.
I had done it so many times before, promises I knew I’d never keep.
To the fae, they were binding, a contract you had to fulfill.
It wasn’t until now I really felt what I was.
The change in my being that connected me to the guy upstairs.
Shared magic bound us with a sixth sense.
We’d forever know where the other was—have information outsiders wouldn’t be privy to.
Oddly enough, it didn’t make me want to tear out of my skin like it once did. Not that I wouldn’t hack our association off in a moment if I could, but I stopped hating Warwick.
As I pulled away from my mom, my focus going back to Birdie, I had a feeling the girl lying on the bed had a lot to do with that. She brought peace to my life.
A muffled wail lurched me to a cot along the wall. Hanna kicked and thrashed as Scorpion handcuffed her to the railing, dodging her feet. Her complexion was so sallow and sweaty. Her eyes were wild, her hair a mess.
“Hanna?” My mother gasped, her hand covering her mouth, already running for her old friend’s daughter.
My mom had watched Hanna grow up and been part of her life for a long time.
To see her now had to be a shock; the change in Hanna had advanced so much.
“Oh gods, no . . .” My mom stopped right at her bed, horror making her immobile for a moment, while Scorpion struggled with Hanna’s strength.
“Help her! She’s going through withdrawals,” Scorpion demanded.
Mother jerked herself out of her frozen state, going into action.
“Hold her down!” Rebeka ordered Scorpion, grabbing a syringe.
“What is that?” Scorpion fought to keep her still.
“Just a sedative.” She stuck Hanna in the arm, emptying the plunger.
“Should calm her down.” She spoke and moved with confidence, handling the situation.
Rebeka Markos was always good at taking control of situations, but usually for parties and humoring heads of state.
She never was there when I was sick or hurt.
The nanny took care of me, comforted me, and was there when Dr. Karl stitched me up.
The woman I grew up with wasn’t cut out to work in a clinic, to handle blood, sickness, and death.