Chapter Twenty-six Amethyst
The door closes behind me. Quiet. Finally. I lean against it. Just for a second. Let my eyes adjust to the dim light. The room is exactly as I left it.
Kade’s bed. Medical equipment humming softly. IV drip. Steady. Monitors beeping. Low. Rhythmic. And on the other side of the room—
The investigation.
Spread across every surface. Maps pinned to the wall. Photos. Documents. Notes in my handwriting. A war frozen in paper and ink.
The weight of it hits me. All at once. The work still to be done. The hunt still unfinished. Enzo still out there. Still breathing. Still free.
I push off the door. Walk to Kade’s bed. Stand beside him. Look down. His face is pale. Too pale. But peaceful.
The monitors are steady. Strong. He’s healing. Slowly. But healing. I reach out. Touch his hand. Gently. His skin is warm. Alive.
“I’m going to finish this," I whisper.
The words scrape out of me. Hoarse. Raw.
“I’m going to find him.”
My fingers tighten around his hand.
“And I’m going to end it.”
Kade doesn’t respond. Can’t respond. But I say it anyway. Need to say it. Need to hear the words out loud. I pull my hand back. Turn. Walk to my bed. I sit. Carefully. My ribs scream. I ignore them. Lie back. Slow. Controlled. The pillow is soft. The mattress firm.
I stare at the ceiling. Just for a moment. Just to rest. Just to let my body—
My eyes close. Heavy. So heavy. I’ll get up in a minute. Go back to the maps. The documents. The hunt. Just. One. Minute.
Voices. Low. Murmured. I surface slowly. Consciousness dragging me up. My body protests. Stiff. Sore. The ribs ache. Deep. Persistent. I open my eyes. Blink. The room is brighter now. Afternoon light. How long—
“She’s awake." Jake’s voice.
I turn my head. Slowly. He’s standing near the door. Arms crossed. Watching me. And beside Kade’s bed—
The Raven. She’s leaning over him. Checking the IV line. Her movements are precise. Practiced. Efficient.
She adjusts the drip rate. Checks the bag. Then moves to his bandages. Lifts the edge of the dressing on his chest. Carefully. Gently. Inspecting. Looking for blood. For seepage. For infection.
Her face is focused. Intent. She replaces the dressing. Smooths it down. Checks the monitors. Pulse. Blood pressure. Oxygen levels. Everything.
She doesn’t miss a detail. Doesn’t rush. This isn’t just obligation. This is care. Real care. I sit up. Slowly. The ribs protest. Loudly. I ignore them.
“How long was I out?"
“Six hours," Jake says.
Six hours. I slept for six hours.
“You needed it," The Raven says without looking up.
She’s checking Kade’s pupils now. Shining a small light. Left eye. Right eye. Checking for response. For changes.
“We found something," Jake continues.
I’m fully awake now. Alert.
“What?"
“Marcus gave us another location. A fourth safe house."
My pulse quickens.
“Where?"
“Industrial district. East side. Near the old shipping yards."
I process that. The shipping yards. Isolated. Low traffic. Easy to monitor who comes and goes.
“It wasn’t on your original list," Jake says.
“No."
“Marcus says it’s older. Established before Enzo took over. Used for long-term operations. Deep cover."
I swing my legs off the bed. Stand. The room tilts. Just slightly. I steady myself.
“We need to survey it," I say.
“Yes," Jake agrees.
“I’ll go."
“No." The Raven’s voice. Firm. Final.
She’s finished with Kade. Turns to face me. Her expression is calm. But unyielding. “You’re not going anywhere."
“I can—"
“You have broken ribs. You’ve been running on adrenaline and painkillers for days. You slept for six hours because your body shut down."
“I’m fine."
“You’re not."
I open my mouth to argue. She cuts me off.
“You want to go after Enzo. I understand that. But you’re no good to anyone if you collapse in the field. If you can’t move fast enough. Can’t fight if you need to."
“I can handle it."
“Can you?"
She steps closer. Her eyes are sharp. Assessing.
“Can you run? Can you climb? Can you take a hit without your ribs puncturing a lung?"
She holds my gaze. Waiting for an answer she already knows.
I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because she’s right. I hate it. But she’s right. My ribs are broken. My body is running on fumes. And if I fail—
Enzo disappears again.
“We’ll send a team," Jake says. “Experienced operatives. They’ll watch the location. Report any movement. Any activity."
“And if Enzo shows up?"
“They’ll call it in. We’ll mobilize."
“That takes time."
“Yes."
“He could disappear again."
“He could," The Raven says. “But sending you in your current condition guarantees failure. You know that."
I clench my jaw. Frustration burns. Hot.
Immediate. I want to argue. Want to fight.
Want to be the one out there. Hunting. Finishing this.
But. She’s right. My ribs are broken. My body is exhausted.
I can barely stand without the room tilting.
If I go out there— If I push too hard— I’ll fail. And failure means Enzo escapes. Again.
“How long?" I ask.
My voice is tight. Controlled.
“How long until I can go?"
The Raven considers.
“Three days. Minimum. If you rest. If you let your body heal."
Three days. It feels like forever.
“And if he moves before then?"
“Then we move," Jake says. “Without you."
I look at him. Then at The Raven. She’s watching me. Waiting. I take a breath. Slow. Careful. The ribs protest.
“Fine."
“Fine?"
“I’ll rest. Three days."
The Raven nods.
“Good."
She walks to the door. Pauses. Looks back.
“Kade is stable. Healing well. No signs of infection. He should wake within the next forty-eight hours. If we are lucky."
Relief hits hard. Sharp. Immediate. So powerful my knees almost gives out. He’s healing. And no infections. Hopefully we are lucky enough for that forty-eight hour time line.
“Thank you."
She nods again. Then she’s gone. Jake lingers.
“The team leaves in two hours. I’ll update you as soon as we have anything."
“Okay."
He follows The Raven out. The door closes. Silence. I’m alone again. With Kade. With the maps. With the waiting.
I walk to the wall. Look at the three locations. Now four. One of them. One of them has to be right. Has to be where Enzo is hiding. I just have to wait. Three days. Seventy-two hours. And then. I finish this.
Twenty-four hours becomes forty-eight hours, but there still hasn’t been any movement. By the Raven’s prediction, Kade should wake up. Should. But he doesn’t.
The monitors stay steady. Pulse strong. Breathing even. But his eyes stay closed. His body still. The Raven checks him twice a day. Changes bandages. Adjusts medications.
“His body needs more time," she says on the third day.
“He took a bullet to the chest. And before that—weeks of no sleep. No rest. His system is catching up."
“How much longer?"
“I don’t know."
The honesty is worse than a lie. I nod. She leaves. I stay.
I work. Because I can’t just sit. Can’t just watch him. Can’t just wait.
The maps are spread across the table. Four locations now. Red circles. Notes in the margins. Timelines. Patterns.
Jake’s team has been watching the fourth safe house for two days. No movement. No activity. Nothing. The other three are the same. Empty. Quiet.
Like Enzo knows we’re looking. Like he’s already gone. I lean over the table. Study the map. Try to find what I’m missing. The connection. The pattern. The—
A sound. Behind me. Soft. Almost nothing. I freeze. Don’t turn. Can’t turn. Because if I turn and he’s still—
If I imagined it—
Another sound.
A breath.
Deep.
Ragged.
Then a cough.
Wet.
Painful.
Real.
Then a groan. Low. Guttural.
My heart stops. Everything stops.
I shoot up out of the chair. Too fast. My ribs scream. I ignore them. Turn. Slowly. Afraid. Terrified. That I’m wrong. That my mind is—
Kade. His eyes are open. Barely. Slits. Unfocused. But open.
His chest rises. Falls. Uneven. Labored. He coughs again. Winces. His hand moves. Just slightly. Toward the bandages.
“Kade."
My voice breaks. Cracks. I move toward the bed. Careful. Controlled. Even though everything in me wants to run.
“Don’t move," I say. Gentle. Firm.
“You’re okay. You’re safe. But don’t move yet."
His eyes find mine. Slowly. Like it takes effort. Like he’s surfacing from somewhere deep. Somewhere dark.
“Amethyst."
Barely a whisper.
Barely a sound at all. But it’s mu name. He knows me.
He’s here.
I reach the bed. Sit on the edge. Carefully. My ribs protest. I don’t care.
“I’m here," I say.
My hand finds his. Gently. His fingers are warm. Alive. They curl around mine. Weak. But there.
“What—"
He coughs again. Harder. His face contorts. Pain. Sharp. Immediate.
“Don’t talk," I say quickly.
“Not yet. Just breathe. Slow. Easy."
He tries. I can see him trying. But his breathing is uneven. Catching. Like every breath hurts. It probably does. Bullet to the chest. Surgery. Days unconscious. Of course it hurts. “You were shot," I say.
Keep my voice calm. Steady. Even though I’m shaking.
“But you’re okay. You’re healing."
His eyes sharpen. Just slightly. Focus.
“You—"
Another cough. He winces. Grips my hand tighter.
“I’m fine," I say before he can ask.
“Broken ribs. Nothing serious."
His eyes drop. To my torso. To where the ribs are wrapped. Hidden under my shirt. His jaw tightens.
“How long?"
“It’s been twelve days. The Raven predicted you’d wake yesterday. But your body needed more time."
He processes that. Slow. Careful.
“You—you stayed."
“Of course I stayed."
As if there had ever been another option.
His hand squeezes mine. Gentle. Deliberate.
“Amethyst."
The way he says my name. Like it’s everything. Like it’s the only word that matters. I lean forward. Rest my forehead against his. Careful of my ribs. Careful of his chest. Like if I press too hard he’ll disappear again.
“You came for me," I whisper.
“Always."
No hesitation. No uncertainty. Just truth.
His voice is stronger now. Still rough. Still broken. But stronger.
“I told you I would."
“I know."