Chapter Thirty-two Kade
“One hour," she says.
I nod. Don’t speak. Can’t. The predator is awake.
Fully awake. At last, the wait is finally over.
“Amethyst comes with me," I say.
The Raven’s expression doesn’t change. But I see it. The calculation. The assessment. “Why?"
“Because he needs to see."
Silence. Brief. Heavy. She looks past me. At Amethyst. Standing in the hallway. Waiting.
“Your choice," Raven says to her.
Amethyst doesn’t hesitate.
“I go with him."
The Raven nods. Steps aside.
“One hour," she repeats.
Then walks away. Her footsteps fade.
I turn to Amethyst. She’s watching me. Steady. Knowing.
“You don’t have to—" I start.
“I know what you need," she interrupts.
“It won’t be—"
“I know."
She steps closer. Her hand touches my chest. Light. Over the wound.
“Show him," she says quietly.
The predator surges. Violent. Possessive. Yes. Show him. Let him see.
I take her hand. Lead her to the door. Push it open.
The room is small. Concrete walls. Single light overhead. Harsh. Fluorescent. Marcus is in the center. Bound to a chair. Wrists. Ankles. He looks up when we enter. His face goes white. Pale. Terrified.
“Kade—"
I close the door behind us. The lock clicks. Final. Definitive.
“Please—I can explain—"
“Quiet."
My voice. Low. Controlled. Lethal.
He stops talking. Immediately. His eyes dart to Amethyst. Then back to me.
“I was trying to help her," he says.
Desperate. Pleading.
“I was trying to save her from—"
“From me."
“Yes."
He thought she would choose him.
I walk forward. Slow. Deliberate. Stop in front of him. Look down.
“You thought she needed saving," I say.
“Yes."
“You thought she was yours to save."
“I—I wanted to help—"
“You wanted to take her."
Silence. His jaw clenches.
“Answer me."
“Yes," he whispers.
“Louder."
“Yes!"
His voice cracks. Breaks.
Good. I turn. Walk back to Amethyst. She’s standing by the door. Watching. Waiting. I reach for her. Pull her forward. Into the center of the room. Into his line of sight. “Watch," I say to Marcus.
His eyes widen.
“Kade—no—please—"
“Watch."
I turn Amethyst to face me. Her eyes meet mine. Dark. Knowing. Understanding exactly what this is. What I need. My hand goes to her throat. Gentle. Possessive. Her pulse beats against my palm. Steady. Strong. Alive.
“Mine," I say.
Not to her. To him.
She nods.
“Yours."
I kiss her. Hard. Claiming. My other hand grips her hip. Pulls her against me.
She gasps into my mouth. Opens for me. Lets me take. Lets me in.
Behind us, Marcus makes a sound. Choked. Desperate. I don’t stop. Don’t pull away. Just keep kissing her. Claiming her.
My hand slides from her throat. Down. Over her collarbone.
Between her breasts. Lower. To the hem of her shirt.
I pull it up. Over her head. She lifts her arms. Helps me.
The shirt falls to the floor. She’s wearing a sports bra.
Simple. Black. I remove it. Slow. Deliberate. Exposing her. Piece by piece.
“Kade—stop—please—"
Marcus’s voice. Broken. Begging.
I ignore him. My hands move to her pants. Unfasten them. Push them down. She steps out of them. Stands before me. Naked. Beautiful. Marked. The bruises on her ribs. Yellow-green now. Fading.
The cuts on her arms. Healing. Scabbed over. Evidence of what she survived. What she endured. Because of him. Because of Enzo. The rage flares. Hot. Immediate. But controlled. The predator wants blood. But first—
First we show him. I turn her around. So she’s facing Marcus. My hand wraps around her throat from behind. Gentle. Certain.
The other slides down. Over her stomach. Lower. Between her thighs. She’s already wet. Ready. Wanting this.
“Look at her," I say to Marcus.
He’s crying now. Tears streaming down his face.
“Look at what’s mine."
My fingers move. Slow. Deliberate. She gasps. Leans back against me. Her head falls to my shoulder.
“Kade—"
Her voice. Breathless. Needy.
I work her slowly. Methodically. Building the pressure. The pleasure. Making her feel it. Making him watch.
“Please—stop—I’m sorry—"
Marcus’s voice. Desperate. Pathetic.
I don’t stop. Don’t slow. Just keep touching her. Claiming her. Showing him exactly what she is to me. What I am to her. She comes apart in my arms. Shaking. Gasping.
My name on her lips. Not his. Never his. Mine. Always mine.
I hold her through it. Keep her steady. Keep her grounded. When she settles, I turn her to face me. Kiss her. Deep. Possessive.
“Get dressed," I say quietly.
She nods. Understands. This part is done. She gathers her clothes. Dresses quickly. Efficient. When she’s ready, she walks to the door.
Pauses.
Looks back at Marcus. Her expression is cold. Empty.
“I was never yours," she says.
Then she’s gone. The door closes behind her. Silence.
Just me. And Marcus. And the violent rage simmering under my skin.
I turn to face him. Slow. Deliberate. He’s still crying. Shaking. Terrified. Good.
“Now," I say.
My voice is calm. Controlled. Cold.
“We talk."
I pull a chair from the corner. Set it in front of him. Sit. Close enough to touch. Close enough to hurt.
“Enzo," I say.
“I don’t—"
My hand moves. Fast. Precise. Strikes his face. Hard. His head snaps to the side. Blood from his lip.
“Try again."
He’s gasping. Sobbing.
“I don’t know where he is—"
Another strike. Other side. More blood.
“You worked for him. You betrayed her for him. You know."
“I—I only met him twice—"
I stand. Walk to the small table against the wall. The Raven left tools. Knew what I’d need.
Knife. Pliers. Wire cutters. Scalpel.
I pick up the knife. Test the weight. The balance. Perfect.
I return to Marcus. Crouch in front of him. The knife rests against his thigh. Light. Barely touching.
“Where is Enzo?"
“I don’t know—"
I press. The blade cuts through fabric. Through skin. Shallow. Just enough to hurt. He screams.
“WHERE?"
“I don’t know! I swear! He never told me—"
I cut again. Deeper this time. Blood flows. Hot. Red. Soaking into his pants.
“He has a facility," Marcus gasps. “Somewhere—somewhere outside the city—"
“Where?"
“I don’t know exactly—"
Another cut. His other thigh. Matching. Symmetrical.
“North," he screams. “North of the city—industrial district—abandoned factory—"
“Which one?"
“I don’t know—there are dozens—"
I stand. Walk back to the table. Pick up the pliers. Return.
“Your hand," I say.
“No—please—"
I grab his left hand. Bound to the chair arm. Can’t pull away. Can’t escape. The pliers close around his pinky finger. At the first knuckle.
“Which factory?"
“I don’t know—"
I squeeze. Slow. Controlled. The bone cracks. He screams. Loud. Raw. Agonized. “WHICH FACTORY?"
“Riverside—Riverside Industrial—the old textile plant—"
I release the pressure. Slightly.
“What else?"
“That’s all I know—I swear—"
I move to the next finger. Ring finger. Same placement.
“What else?"
“He’s angry—he’s furious—"
“About what?"
“About his organization—about Rafe and Lucia and Mateo—"
Pressure.. The bone gives. Another scream.
“Keep talking."
“He knew—he knew someone had been killing them—destroying everything from the inside—"
“Does he know it was her?"
“I don’t know—maybe—he’s paranoid—suspicious of everyone—"
I move to the middle finger.
“How many people does he have?"
“I don’t know—twenty? Thirty? He’s been consolidating—bringing everyone to the facility—"
“Security?"
“Heavy—cameras everywhere—guards—He’s expecting an attack—"
“Is he coming here?"
Silence. I tighten the pliers.
“Is he coming here?" I repeat.
“Yes—" His voice cracks.
“He knows about the safe houses?"
“I told him—I had to tell him—to prove I wasn’t betraying him—"
He told him. About her. About the safe houses. About us.
Big. Mistake.
“When?"
“He said—he said once he was finished with her—once he extracts what he needs—he’s coming back here—"
“For what?"
“For you. For everyone. He wants—he wants to finish it personally. But then you destroyed his operation. Killed his people. He’s not going to let that stand."
I lean closer. My voice drops. Ice cold.
“He thinks he can come here?"
“He has a team. Twelve men. Maybe more. They’re ready. He just—,”
The predator smiles. Let him come. We’ll be waiting.
I squeeze again. Crack. Scream. Three fingers broken. Two to go.
“What else?"
“That’s everything—I swear—please—"
“You wanted to take her," I say. Quiet. Controlled.
“I was wrong—I’m sorry—please—"
“You thought you could save her from me."
“No—I just—I wanted to help—"
I squeeze the index finger. Harder this time. The bone doesn’t just crack. It shatters. His scream is inhuman. Raw. Primal.
“She will never be yours." I say.
I move to the thumb. Last one.
“I understand—please—Kade—"
Squeeze. Crack. Scream. All five fingers. Broken. Useless. I release his hand. It hangs limp. Swollen. Destroyed.
He’s sobbing. Gasping. Begging. I walk back to the table. Set down the pliers.
Pick up the scalpel. Small. Precise. Perfect for detail work. I return to him. Crouch. The scalpel touches his cheek. Light. Barely a whisper.
“You betrayed her," I say.
“I’m sorry—"
“You gave her to Enzo."
“I didn’t mean—"
“You let him torture her."
“Please—"
The scalpel cuts. Shallow. Precise. Down his cheek. Following the bone. Blood wells. Flows. He’s screaming again.
I don’t stop. Just keep cutting. Methodical. Controlled. The predator is satisfied. Patient. This is what we came for. What we’ve been waiting for.
I move to his other cheek. Mirror the cut. Symmetrical. Perfect.
Then his forehead. His jaw. His neck. Shallow cuts. Dozens of them. Each one precise. Deliberate. Calculated.
He’s not screaming anymore. Just whimpering. Broken. Defeated.
I stand. Look down at him. Blood everywhere. Covering his face. His neck. His chest. Soaking into his clothes. Pooling on the floor.
“Enzo’s at the Riverside Industrial textile plant," I say.
Confirming. Making sure.
He nods. Barely. Can barely move.
“North of the city."
Another nod.
“Heavy security."
“Yes," he whispers.
Good. That’s what I needed. The location. The confirmation. The intelligence. Now— Now I finish it. I pick up the knife again. Larger than the scalpel. Heavier. Made for killing. Not torture. I crouch in front of him one last time.
“You wanted to take her from me," I say.
He doesn’t respond. Can’t. Too broken. Too far gone.
“You thought you could save her."
Silence.
“You were wrong."
I drive the knife into his stomach. Low. Deep. Angled up. He gasps. Eyes go wide. Blood pours. Hot. Fast.
The blade twists. Organs tear.
His mouth opens. Closes. Trying to speak. Can’t. Just blood. Bubbling. Choking.
I pull the knife out. Watch him. Watch the life drain. Slow. Agonizing.
His eyes stay on mine. Until the very end. Until the light fades. Until there’s nothing left. Just—
Empty. Dead. Gone.
I stand. Look down at the body. At what’s left of Marcus. The predator is satisfied. Sated. For now. But already—
Already it’s thinking ahead.
To Enzo.
To the hunt that matters.
I walk to the door. Open it. Raven is in the hallway. Waiting. She looks past me. At the body. At the blood. Her expression doesn’t change.
“Did you get what you needed?" she asks.
“Yes."
“Location?"
“Riverside Industrial. Old textile plant. North of the city."
She nods. Pulls out her phone. Types something. Quick. Efficient.
“I’ll have Jake confirm," she says. “Cross-reference with our intel."
“How long?"
“A few hours. Maybe less."
Not much longer.
Gesturing to the room. To Marcus.
“Want me to clean this?” I ask.
“Already arranged."
Of course it is. She’s efficient. Always has been.
“One more thing, he has compromised the safe houses. He told Enzo where all the safe houses are at.”
She nods as I walk past her.
Down the hallway. Back to our room. Amethyst is waiting. Sitting on the edge of the bed. She looks up when I enter. Searches my face.
“It’s done?" she asks.
“Yes."
“Did he tell you?"
“Everything."
“Where?"
“Riverside Industrial. Old textile plant."
She nods. Stands. Walks to me. Her hand touches my chest. Over the wound.
“Are you okay?"
Am I? I just tortured a man. Killed him. Slowly. Methodically. Watched him die. And I feel—
Nothing. No guilt. No remorse. Just—
Satisfaction. And hunger. For the next one. For Enzo.
“Yes," I say.
She studies me. Sees the truth. Accepts it.
“When do we move?"
“Soon. Jake’s confirming the location."
“And then?"
“Then we finish it."
She nods. Wraps her arms around me. Careful. Mindful of the wound. I hold her. Feel her warmth. Her strength. Her certainty.
“Together," she says quietly.
“Always."
The predator settles. Patient. Controlled. Waiting. Marcus is dead. Three targets eliminated. One remains. Enzo.
And when we find him—
When we finally get our hands on him—
There will be no mercy. No hesitation. Just—
Death. Slow. Agonizing. Complete.
I close my eyes. Hold Amethyst closer. And wait for Jake’s confirmation. For the location. For the moment we move