Chapter Twenty-six Amethyst #2
We stay like that. Foreheads touching. Breathing together. His hand in mine. The monitors beep. Steady. Strong. He’s here. He’s alive. He’s awake. And for the first time in days— I let myself breathe. Really breathe.
“I love you," I say. Quiet. Honest. Raw.
“I know," he says.
And despite everything— Despite the pain. The injuries. The exhaustion. I smile.
The moment doesn’t last. His eyes sharpen. Focus shifts. From me. To the room. To the situation.
“What happened?"
His voice is different now. Clearer. Tactical. The predator surfacing.
“You were shot," I say.
Keep my voice steady.
“Chest. Punctured lung. The Raven performed surgery."
His jaw tightens.
“Who."
Not a question. A demand.
“Marcus."
The name hangs between us. His entire body goes rigid. Every muscle. Every tendon. Locked. The monitors spike. Heart rate climbing.
“Marcus," he repeats. Flat. Cold. Deadly.
“Yes."
“Where is he."
“Contained. Interrogated. He’s not going anywhere."
His eyes find mine. And what I see there—
The relief is gone. The pain is still there. But underneath it?
Predator. Hunt. Kill.
“Kade—"
“Where."
“You need to rest. You can’t—"
“Where. Is. He."
Each word is deliberate. Controlled. But I can feel the violence underneath. Coiled. Ready.
“Room three," I say quietly. “But you’re not going anywhere. Not yet."
He tries to sit up. Immediately. His face contorts. Pain. Sharp. Immediate. He gasps. Falls back. His hand goes to his chest. To the bandages.
“Don’t," I say. Firm. “You’ll tear the stitches."
He’s breathing hard now. Uneven. Ragged. But his eyes—
They’re still hunting. Still calculating.
“Enzo," he says. Another demand.
I hesitate. Just for a second. But he sees it.
“Tell me."
“He escaped."
Silence. Heavy. Dangerous. The kind that comes before violence.
“Escaped."
“Yes. During the chaos. When you were shot. He slipped out."
His hand curls into a fist. The knuckles white.
“He’s alive."
“Yes."
“And you let him—"
“I didn’t let him do anything," I interrupt.
My voice is sharp now.
“You were dying.” My voice cracks. Just slightly. And I hate it.
“I had to choose.”
He stares at me. Processing. The anger is still there. But it’s not directed at me. Not anymore.
“Where is he."
“We don’t know. Not exactly."
I stand. Carefully. Walk to the table. Grab the folder. The maps. Bring them back to the bed. Spread them out.
“I’ve been working on it," I say. “Three days. Going through everything from the facility."
I point to the first location.
“This is a safe house. Northern district. Industrial area."
My finger moves to the second.
“This one. Eastern suburbs. Residential cover.”
Then the third.
“And this. South side. Near the docks.”
Kade’s eyes track every movement. Every detail. Absorbing. Cataloging.
“Three locations," he says.
“Jake is running surveillance. He’s been watching for activity. He’s been coordinating while you—while you were out."
Kade’s jaw works. Tension radiating from him.
“How long has he been watching."
“Going to be going on four days. There is a fourth safe house."
“Fourth?"
“Marcus gave it up during interrogation. Jake’s team is moving on it now."
He processes that. Quick. Efficient.
“I need to—"
He tries to sit up again. Gets further this time. But the pain hits. Hard. He gasps. Stops. His hand grips the bed rail. White-knuckled.
“You need to stay still," I say.
Moving closer I put my hand on his shoulder. Gentle but firm.
“You’re not healed. You can’t move like this."
“I can—"
“You can’t."
My voice is harder now.
“You had a bullet in your lung. You had surgery. You’ve been unconscious for days. Your lucky to be alive. Your body needs time."
“I don’t have time."
“You don’t have a choice."
He looks at me. Really looks. And I see it. The frustration. The rage. The desperate need to hunt. To finish this. To kill.
“He’s out there," Kade says.
His voice is rough. Breaking.
“He hurt you. Tortured you. And he’s still—"
“I know."
“I need to—"
“I know."
I sit on the edge of the bed again. Careful. My ribs scream. I ignore them.
“But you can’t. Not yet. Not like this."
His hand finds mine. Grips it. Too tight. Desperate.
“How long."
“The Raven says you need at least a week. Maybe more."
“A week." He says it like it’s a death sentence.
“Yes."
“And you?"
“Three days. My ribs are broken but healing."
His eyes drop. To my torso. To where the ribs are wrapped. Hidden.
“He did that."
Not a question. Not disbelief. Just murder wrapped in two words.
“Yes."
The monitors spike again. Heart rate climbing. Faster.
“Kade—"
“I’m going to kill him."
The words are quiet. Calm. Absolute.
“I know."
“Slowly."
“I know."
“I’m going to make him—"
“I know."
I squeeze his hand. Bring it to my chest. Over my heart.
“But not today. Not like this."
He closes his eyes. Breathes. Trying to control it. The rage. The need. The hunt.
“Jake is watching the locations," I say.
Keep my voice steady. Grounding.
“The moment there’s movement, we’ll know. We’ll move."
“We."
“Yes."
“You’re injured."
“So are you."
“That’s different."
“It’s not."
He opens his eyes. Looks at me. And I see it. The war inside him. Between the predator that needs to hunt. And the man who needs me safe.
“I can’t lose you," he says.
Quiet. Raw.
Terrifying in its honesty. Because Kade doesn’t admit fear. Not for himself. Only for me.
“You won’t."
“If something happens—"
“It won’t."
“You don’t know that."
“Neither do you."
Silence. Heavy. Charged.
“We finish this together," I say.
Firm. Final.
“Both of us. When we’re ready. When we’re healed enough to do it right."
He stares at me. Long. Hard. Then nods. Once.
“Together."
“Always."
I lean forward. Kiss him. Gentle. Careful. Like he’s something fragile. Like he’s not the most dangerous man I’ve ever known.
His hand comes up. Cups my face. Holds me there. When I pull back, his eyes are different. Still hunting. Still dangerous. But focused. Controlled.
“How long until Jake reports back," he asks.
“Could be hours. Could be days."
“And Marcus."
“He’s not going anywhere. The Raven has him locked down."
Kade’s jaw tightens.
“I want to see him."
“You will. When you can walk without tearing your stitches."
He doesn’t like that. But he doesn’t argue.
“Tell me everything," he says instead.
“Everything that happened. Everything you found."
I settle back. Careful of my ribs. And I tell him. All of it.
The facility. The interrogation. The torture. The escape. Marcus’s confession. The safe houses. The surveillance.
He listens. Silent. Absorbing every detail. Every piece of intel. When I finish, he’s quiet. Processing. Planning.
“We need more information on the locations," he says finally.
“Layouts. Security. Exits."
“Jake is working on it."
“I want to see what he has."
“You will. When The Raven clears you to sit up for more than five minutes."
He looks at me. Frustrated. Trapped.
“I hate this."
“I know."
“I should be out there."
“You will be. Soon."
“Not soon enough."
I don’t argue. Because he’s right. Every hour Enzo is out there—
Every hour he’s free—
Is an hour too long. But rushing this—
Getting Kade killed because he moved too soon— That’s not an option either.
“Rest," I say. Stand carefully.
“I’ll get Jake’s latest report. Bring it back. We’ll go through it together."
“Amethyst—"
“I’ll be right back."
I walk to the door. Pause. Look back. He’s watching me. Eyes tracking. Predatory. Possessive. But also—
Trusting.
“Ten minutes," I say.
“Then we plan."
He nods. Settles back against the pillows. But I can see it. The tension. The coiled energy. The desperate need to move. To hunt. To kill. The predator is awake. He’s restless. Coiled. Waiting. And its only a matter of time before nothing—
Not his injuries. Not the Raven. Not orders. Not even me—
Can keep him in that bed. Because Kade is alive. And somewhere out there, Enzo is too.