Chapter 27
Alanna
“And that’s when I realized the texts were all operating under a flawed premise!”
I’m nearly breathless as we enter the warehouse, my exhaustion forgotten while I spent the whole drive talking animatedly about my breakthroughs. Kade kept prodding me, asking exactly the types of questions that I love to answer, and I couldn’t help but get excited.
“And of course, being ‘made whole’ has multiple possible interpretations, which was another mistake. I wonder if there might be a translation error happening as well, that passage was so old . . .” I can’t seem to stand still, pacing the length of the room and gesturing with my hands as I speak.
I’m so lost in the thrill of the discovery that I almost miss the way Kade is looking at me.
He hasn’t moved from the doorway, leaning his broad shoulders heavily against the frame.
He’s exhausted and his skin is gray with dust, but there’s no impatience in his posture.
He is simply watching me, a soft, arrested expression on his face.
Stopping in front of the couch, I suddenly realize just how long I’ve been talking.
“I’m sorry. I’m rambling. You probably don’t need all the theoretical and historical stuff for your report. Just the facts. I can just . . . write it down, if you want?”
My skin prickles with self-consciousness, and I become abruptly aware of the layers of dirt and dried sweat all over me.
To give myself something to do—and hide my nerves—I flick my wrist, sending a pulse of magic washing over me and over to Kade.
The iridescent shimmer banishes the grime from us both instantly, though it can’t erase the fatigue in his shoulders or the angry lines of his already-healing wounds.
“Alanna.” He says my name so tenderly it’s like a caress, and I can’t stop the frisson of heat that runs down my spine at the sound of it.
Pushing off the doorframe, he closes the distance in slow strides, leaving only the length of the couch between us.
His expression is full of warmth, no sign of the guardedness that I’d gotten so used to. My heart gives a traitorous flutter.
“I don’t give a shit about the report. We can do that later. I just . . . wanted to hear you talk.” A genuine smile spreads across his face, lighting up his umber eyes. Something about him is . . . different. “To hear about your discoveries. To see you like this.”
There’s awe in his voice. For me. For the way my mind works. And the undisguised admiration on his face is more intimate than any touch.
My throat feels tight. I don’t know how to respond to this Kade, who’s looking at me not like a danger to be held at arm’s length, but like a wonder to be discovered. The silence stretches between us, charged and full of everything we haven’t said.
His smile fades, replaced by that raw vulnerability from the plaza.
This is it. The real conversation is about to begin.
Even as I brace myself for more rejection, a tentative hope unfurls in my chest, fledgling and easily crushed.
But at least now I know, whatever happens, there’s nothing I can’t handle.
“Thank you, for—” he begins haltingly. “For giving me a chance to explain.”
“So, explain,” I try to say gently, but I can’t stop a slight harshness from entering my tone. “I want the whole truth, this time.”
“Yeah. Of course. I want that too. The truth is—” He takes a fortifying breath. “I’ve been terrified. Because of the pull I feel toward you. It’s . . . overwhelming.”
He seems like he’s having trouble finding the words, but all I can think about is how he was so distant, all this time, despite this supposed “pull” he felt toward me.
My voice is flat when I say, “You didn’t want to want me.”
“I didn’t.”
The delicate hope inside me collapses like a punctured lung, and I sink onto the couch cushions, legs unable to hold me up anymore.
But he rushes on, his eyes pleading with me to understand. “But not because of you. It was nothing to do with you, you have to believe me.” He reaches for me, but I flinch back, crossing my arms tight over my chest.
“Don’t.”
Freezing, he drops his hand, looking like I slapped him.
“It’s because getting attached—it compromises me,” he says rapidly, straining to make me understand. “I thought it would cloud my judgment. Make me unable to protect you.”
I stare at him, watching his expression twist in rising alarm. He’s terrified I’m done listening.
“Protect me,” I echo hollowly.
“Exactly.” His voice is almost pleading. He begins to pace, agitation radiating off him as he stalks away from the couch toward the research table and back. “If I care too much, I make the wrong call. People die.”
Even though my heart is still snagged on the “I didn’t want you” part, my mind begins to slot together the pieces. The despair in his tone finally penetrates my shield. “Because of Maia?”
He gives a pained nod. “You saw what happened. I fucked up. And she—my entire pack—paid the price.” He looks past me, staring toward the dark windows at the far end of the warehouse, seeing a different place, a different time.
“I still wake up smelling the smoke. Suffocating. And seeing her body lying there, all the life, everything she was and ever could have been, just gone. And I swore I’d never let it happen again.
I work alone. I don’t get attached. I do my job. It’s safer for everyone.”
Then his eyes focus, centering on me, and I’m taken aback by how flayed open his expression is.
“But with you . . . I couldn’t. Be detached.
And it fucked with my head. And then.” He clears his throat, as though trying to clear away the sensation of smoke in his lungs.
“It wasn’t just Maia I’d see anymore. It was you.
Your body . . . lifeless on the floor. Your spark, gone forever.
It would be my fault. Again. So, I thought, if I could keep my distance, if I could stay objective, you’d be safe.
I could protect you. And I needed you to be safe. ”
After all this time, his grief is still so present for him. I want to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but my own pain holds me back.
“I understand that,” I say, and I do. But understanding doesn’t erase the sting.
And I still need the answers I was promised.
“But Kade, I’m not her. I was scared, and confused, and then you were so confusing too, all the time.
It made me feel like I was going crazy. One minute you would look at me like .
. . like you felt something. And the next, it was like you couldn’t even stand to be in the same room.
Meanwhile, I felt . . .” My voice trails off.
I can’t go there right now, not before I know what he’s going to say.
Instead, I finish lamely, “. . . differently.”
“It fucking tore me apart. Every minute I spent with you, getting to know you, it just got worse. All I wanted was—” He cuts himself off, a humorless, sardonic smile twisting his lips.
The unfairness of it all bubbles up, hot and biting.
“You really hurt me,” I say quietly, hating how vulnerable I feel even saying it.
“When you left—it felt just like when my dad left. When I was a kid. All I have to do is be myself, and it drives people away. You finally touched me. And then you realized I was too intense, too needy . . . too much.” I wrap my arms around myself, curling into the couch, feeling time collapse as all my wounds weep afresh.
He appears genuinely dumbfounded, the color draining from his face as he rakes a hand roughly through his hair, gripping the strands tight. “I didn’t even think of that. Fucking hell. I’m sorry. I should never have—”
“You didn’t think?” A sharp laugh escapes me, but there’s no humor in it.
It scrapes my throat on the way out. “That makes it worse. You were so busy playing the protector that you didn’t even consider what it was doing to me?
You made me feel so completely unwanted, unworthy of your attention.
And what? You told yourself you were doing it for me?
” The closeness we shared moments ago feels like a trap.
I stand up from the couch and back away, putting myself closer to the front door.
If I leave first, I won’t be the one left behind for once. “I can’t do this.”
“Alanna, please. Wait.” Panic flares on his face—urgent and visceral. He takes a step toward me, but stops short, raising his hands in supplication. “I screwed up. I was arrogant. I thought I knew what was best for you, without even asking you. Stupid.”
My anger is a shield, but it’s heavy, and faced with his panicked expression, my grip on it starts slipping. He isn’t shutting me out this time. He is fighting to stay, fighting to fix this. And if I’m honest with myself—I want him to.
As if sensing the change, he goes completely still, like a wolf catching a shift in the wind. His eyes lock onto mine with fierce intensity. “But you were never unwanted. And fuck, you’re the furthest thing from unworthy. It’s the opposite. I pushed you away because I was freaking out.”
He swallows hard, looking like he’s about to jump off a cliff. “And there’s a reason for that. Something I should have told you sooner. It’s about that ‘pull’ I mentioned. Why it’s so strong.”
My stomach clenches, walls springing back up to guard my heart. “Another secret?”
“I know.” His self-reproach is palpable.
“I’ve been keeping so much from you. It’s not fair.
I thought I could help you—protect you—and then let you go.
And I’d be the only one who got hurt. But it’s too late for that.
And . . . I can’t do it, Alanna, I can’t let you go.
” His voice cracks on my name. “I mean, I will—if that’s what you want.
But you have to know everything, first.”