Chapter Fourteen
Jasmine
The living area was too bright when I walked in, the winter sun cutting through the floor-to-ceiling windows in sharp white bars that made my eyes ache. Kade stood near the windows with his back to me, hands in his pockets, as Theo and I walked in.
I kept my steps muted, a habit from years of making myself small, but Kade turned before I'd crossed half the room. His eyes found my face, and the businesslike set of his jaw softened; his brow furrowed in a way that made the warmth in my chest flutter uncomfortably.
“No vocal training today,” he said, and his tone had that quality which suggested the decision had already been made, and arguing would be like trying to argue with gravity. “I'm taking you out for the afternoon instead.”
I stopped mid-step and frowned, lips pursed. Out? But outside involved frosted blankets, singing for food, and keeping as small as possible. “Out where?”
“Does it matter?” Theo's voice came from behind. I turned, and he smiled knowingly at me. What were they up to?
Kade shot him a look I couldn't quite read, then turned back to me. “You need a break. You look like you're about to fall over.”
My hand went to my face automatically, fingers touching my cheek as if I could feel what he saw there. My reflection in the windows showed a pale oval, my green eyes too large, shadows underneath them like bruises. I dropped my hand. “I'm fine.”
“You're not.” Kade moved then, crossing to a closet I hadn't noticed before, built seamlessly into the wall.
When he opened it, I saw coats, the kind that probably cost more than I'd made in six months of singing on street corners.
He pulled out a thick, deep-charcoal coat and measured it against me.
I just stood there, watching him as he reached for me. The oak scent of him reached me before he did, clean and grounding in a way that made my chest tight.
“Arms up,” he said, and there was something gentle in his voice that made me want to run and stay in equal measure.
I nodded instead, turning slightly so he could reach my old peacoat.
His fingers brushed my shoulders as he slid it off, careful not to touch my skin, and the loss of it left me feeling exposed even though I still wore my sweater.
He folded the peacoat with a precision that seemed excessive, setting it on the arm of a nearby chair before pulling the new coat around my shoulders.
The weight of it settled on them like an embrace, blanketing me in some kind of wool blend, thick enough to actually keep out the cold, and when I pulled it closed in front, it fit like it had been made for me.
My fingers traced the material, following the line of the lapel down to the buttons. The stitching was so fine I could barely see it. This coat was the kind of thing I used to see in shop windows and never even considered touching.
“Thank you,” I murmured, because my mother had taught me manners even when we'd had nothing, and those lessons had stayed embedded in me like muscle memory.
Kade's hand lifted like he might touch my shoulder, then fell back to his side. “You're welcome.”
He moved to the phone on the side table and picked it up. His conversation was brief, clipped instructions delivered in a low voice. I caught fragments— “front entrance,” “afternoon,” “the birds”— before he hung up and turned back to me.
“The car will be ready in five minutes.”
I wanted to ask where we were going, what this was about, and why he was doing this. The questions piled up in my throat, but I swallowed them down. Accepting kindness had always felt like accepting debt, and I'd learned the hard way that debts always came due, eventually.
Theo sat down on one of the couches. His gaze moved between us, and when it landed on me, I saw something soften in those dark eyes. He said nothing, but the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, not quite a smile but close enough that I felt it anyway.
“Have her back before dark,” Theo said to Kade, winking.
“Should I be nervous?” I asked, looking at Theo. He laughed.
“No, honey, you will be fine. Enjoy yourself.” I nodded, smiling back at him.
“I will.” Kade's attention stayed on me, steady as a compass point. “Ready?”
I nodded again, not trusting my voice. The new coat felt like armor, or maybe a disguise. Something that made me look like I belonged in this penthouse with its too-bright windows and its careful, dangerous Alphas who kept looking at me like I might shatter.
Kade gestured toward the door, and I moved, my legs carrying me forward even though part of me still wanted to stay small, stay hidden.
The elevator was waiting when we reached it; the doors opened like a mouth. I stepped inside, and Kade followed, pressing the button for the ground floor.
The descent was smooth, so smooth I barely felt it, and I found myself staring at my reflection in the polished metal of the elevator walls. The girl looking back at me wore an expensive coat and stood next to an Alpha in a tailored suit, and for a moment I didn't recognize her at all.
My shoulders dropped without me noticing, the constant tension I carried there easing just enough that I could draw a full breath. The air in my lungs felt different, lighter, like maybe the weight I'd been carrying had shifted just slightly to one side.
Kade didn't speak during the ride down, and I was grateful for that. The silence between us felt less like emptiness and more like a pause, a space where I could exist without having to explain, defend or justify myself.
When the doors opened to the lobby, I stepped out into the cool air and let Kade guide me toward the front entrance. Through the glass doors, I could see a black car waiting at the curb, sleek and expensive like everything else in Kade's world.
The doorman opened the door for us, and I stepped out into the winter afternoon. The cold bit at my cheeks, but the coat kept the rest of me warm, and I realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd been properly warm outside.
Inside the car, it smelled like leather and something else, something clean that might have been an expensive air freshener or just the scent of money.
I settled into the cushioned seat and watched Kade walk around the car to climb in beside me.
The driver was a man I hadn't seen before, with gray at his temples and steady hands on the wheel.
We pulled away from the curb smoothly; the city sliding past the tinted windows like we were moving through water.
For the first few blocks, everything looked normal; the kind of normal I expected from this part of the city anyway.
Clean streets, buildings that gleamed with recent construction or renovation, people in expensive coats moving with purpose.
But then we turned, heading away from the financial district, and the scenery shifted.
I leaned closer to the window, my breath fogging the glass slightly.
Buildings here wore their damage like badges.
Boarded windows cried out for care, plywood covering what had once been storefronts or apartments.
Some boards had graffiti, a variety of RIP messages, and photos plastered all over them.
One building had an entire corner missing, the exposed interior showing water-stained walls and dangling wires like exposed nerves.
The infrastructure crumbled at the edges.
Sidewalks buckled and cracked, weeds pushing through the concrete with a determination I understood intimately.
A traffic light hung crooked, its casing dented like something large had collided with it.
Trash collected in gutters and doorways, and I saw a shopping cart on its side, one wheel still spinning slowly in the wind.
Evidence of destruction marked nearly every block. Cracks and crevices created valleys straight through apartment blocks. This was the poorer side of Shatter City. The side that still yielded to the destruction of the earthquake.
Burn marks scorched up the side of one building in a pattern that looked deliberate.
Bullet holes pocked the brick facade of another, clustered around what had probably been windows.
A memorial of flowers and candles sat on one corner, wilted and wax-streaked, the photo in the center too faded to make out clearly.
Gangs had taken over down here. It was no place to live anymore.
I tracked everything with an expression I couldn't quite name. Wariness, yes, that was always there, but something else too. Recognition, maybe. This was the world I knew, the one I'd survived in. Seeing it from inside this expensive car felt strange, like watching my life through glass.
A group of people huddled around a barrel fire in an alley, and my chest tightened. I'd done that, stood around fires like that, trying to warm hands that never quite felt warm enough. One of them looked up as we passed, and for a second our eyes met before the car carried me away.
Kade sat beside me in silence, not trying to explain or apologize for the route. I appreciated that more than I could say. He just let me look, let me process, his presence solid and warm at my side.
The damaged sections eventually gave way to industrial zones, then parkland. Bare trees stood against the gray sky, and patches of snow clung to the ground in the shadows. The park seemed to go on forever, a stretch of dormant grass and frozen earth.
The car slowed, turning onto a smaller road that curved through the trees. Curiosity built in my chest, a fluttering feeling that I kept trying to suppress.
We stopped in a small parking area, empty except for our car. Through the windshield, I could see a path leading toward something that caught the light strangely, all glass and metal glinting in the winter sun.
Kade's door opened, and he stepped out. I heard him walk around the car, heard his footsteps on the pavement, and then my door opened and cold air rushed in. He stood there with his hand extended, palm up, an offer rather than a demand.
I took it with less hesitation than before. His hand was warm, calloused in places that suggested he did more than just sit behind a desk. He helped me out, and I stood, my legs slightly stiff from the drive, as I looked toward the glass structure.
“Where are we?” I asked, my voice shaking from the cold winter air.
“You'll see.” He released my hand but stayed close as he moved to the trunk. It opened with a smooth click, revealing a thick, plaid picnic blanket, and a wicker basket that looked like it had come from some vintage photograph.
He gathered both, tucking the blanket under one arm and carrying the basket in his other hand. “This way.”
I followed him down the path, hugging my coat to keep the cold at bay.
The glass building grew larger as we approached, and I realized it was some kind of huge conservatory.
The structure rose in elegant curves, panels of glass fitted together with copper frames that had aged to a soft green patina.
Steam or condensation clouded the glass from the inside, making it impossible to see what was within.
Kade pushed open a door, and warmth billowed out like an embrace.
I stepped inside and stopped.
The temperature shift was immediate and total, wrapping around me like I'd stepped into summer.
But it was more than just warmth. The air was thick with moisture and the smell of earth and plants.
Exotic flowers bloomed everywhere. The orchids were in impossible colors, while birds of paradise screeched with their sharp orange beaks, as something blue and delicate cascaded from hanging baskets like living waterfalls.
The light filtering through the frosted glass turned golden, diffused, and soft, making everything glow. Palms stretched toward the curved ceiling, their fronds casting gentle shadows. Vines climbed the support structures, flowering in whites, pinks, and deep crimsons that looked almost arterial.
I'd never seen anything like it. My breath caught in my chest, and for a moment I just stood there, overwhelmed by the abundance of life after blocks of decay and damage.
“Come on,” Kade said softly, and I followed him deeper into the conservatory.
The path wound between the plants, brick paving worn smooth by years of foot traffic. The sound of water reached me... a fountain somewhere, or maybe a small stream. Birds chirped from hidden perches, small, quick movements in the greenery.
And then I saw the table.
It stood in the center of a circular clearing.
It was wrought iron painted white, fragile-looking but probably as solid as stone.
Two chairs sat across from each other, cushioned in fabric that matched the surrounding flowers.
The table was set with actual place settings, real cutlery, and crystal glasses that caught the light and threw tiny rainbows across the white tablecloth.
My confusion must have shown on my face because Kade paused, watching me.
“I don't understand,” I said, the words coming out smaller than I intended.
“You don't have to understand. Just... let me do this.” He set the basket down and pulled out one of the chairs, the scrape of metal on brick quiet in the plant-muffled space. “Please.”
I moved to the chair and sat down. Kade pushed the chair in with the same careful precision he'd used with my coat, then moved to his own seat.
Kade opened the basket and began removing items: a bottle of wine, real glass bottles of sparkling water, and containers of food that he opened with practiced ease.
He poured wine into my glass; the liquid caught the light as it fell, a deep red that looked almost black in the shadows. Then he offered me a plate, already arranged with portions of cheese and fruit, bread that still looked warm, and something that might have been salmon.
I looked down as he served me. Then, I thought for a moment, as realization hit.
.. an Alpha actually served me. I almost shook my head in disbelief.
But instead, I looked at him, truly looked.
He was different. An Alpha, but not in his mannerisms, not with me at least. With me, he only ever showed how much he cared, how he considered me, and never forced anything I didn’t want.
.. and trust me, I wanted all of him. I knew I did.
I just didn’t know how to let myself act on that.
“Please eat,” Kade said, gesturing to the plate in front of me. His voice was gentle in a way that made my throat tight. “That's all you have to do right now. Just eat.”
So I picked up my fork, and did just that.