Chapter Forty-Nine
Kayden
I'm standing on the porch, watching the last burn of sunlight bleed into the trees, like the sky's been cut open. Everything's quiet except for the chaos inside my head.
The door creaks behind me. I don't need to turn. I know it's my brother.
"Since she's got this influence that works on vampires, it makes things harder," Asher says as he steps beside me, arms folded like we're on watch duty.
"You don't say." My voice is flat and tired.
Silence stretches for a beat.
"You don't want to see her," he says.
"I do. I did from the start." I grip the porch railing tighter.
"But you're scared," he adds without judgment.
"Yeah, I am." The admission tastes wrong in my mouth, but there it is.
He doesn't jump in. Just lets it hang there until I find the nerve to keep going.
"What if this is it? What if there's no coming back? What if the version of her we loved is… gone?"
"We can't think like that," he says quietly. Then, after a breath, "I can't. I can't let her last words to me be that hateful. I won't."
Asher shifts and adds, "We can't let this darkness destroy what we had."
I blow out a slow breath. "I keep wondering how real it was. What if we were only convenient?"
"No," he cuts in sharply, turning toward me. His hand lands on my shoulder. "Don't do that to yourself. You know what it was. You felt it. Maybe a part of you wants to believe you can't be loved, but that's not her voice, brother. That's yours."
That hits clean.
I swallow hard, jaw tight. And then he says, deadpan: "For the record, I love you, too. Even if you're a pain sometimes. Oftentimes."
That earns a snort out of me. "Well, don't get all sappy, Ash. You'll ruin your brooding rep."
He smirks, and I finally let the weight on my chest ease a little.
"Love you too, brother," I say. It's quiet, but real.
He pulls me into one of those stiff, manly hugs, complete with back pats and all the unspoken shit stuffed into the silence between us.
Then I straighten, roll my shoulders back, and say it. "I'll go to her."
He nods once. Another pat. No speeches. No good-lucks.
I step off the porch and head for the cellar.
My darkness is going to meet hers. What could possibly go wrong?
I close the door behind me and start down the stairs, slow and steady, like I'm walking into a lion's den.
Which, let's be honest, I am.
"Well, well, look who finally grew a pair," she drawls, voice like poisonous honey. "Was starting to think you'd never come, oh husband of mine."
I smirk, leaning against the wall like I've got all the time in the world. Armor on. Swagger loaded.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the chains, huh?"
She shifts, the iron links rattling as she moves. Her lips are cracked, eyes sunken, but there's still that flicker in them—the thirst. Not just for blood. For something deeper. I don't know if it's life, or death, or just destruction for the sake of it.
"A little too kinky for your taste?" she asks, rattling the chains again. "Thought you liked it rough. Come a little closer. We could make it interesting."
I chuckle. "Tempting, wife. But I'll pass."
She shrugs, all casual malice. "Your loss. So? What's the plan? You gonna throw some heartfelt monologue at me? Tell me how much you love me? Beg for me to remember our wedding vows like a tragic vampire with abandonment issues?"
"None of the above," I say, my voice dropping cold as I take a step closer.
"Drop the theater, Sage. I know you're angry.
At Darlene. At Darius. At the gods, or fate, or whatever turned you into this.
But somewhere in that twisted storm of yours, the real you is in there.
The woman who loved me. Who fought for us. "
She gives a mock pout. "Aw. The classic 'I know you're still in there' speech. So disappointing. I expected something more original from you, Kayden. You used to have bite."
"Oh baby, I've still got bite," I say with a grin. "But I don't waste it on cheap shadows. Come back to me, and I'll show you fire."
Her eyes narrow. And then she smiles, wolfish and cruel. "Let me ask you something. When you were on your murder sprees—your hands soaked in blood, your conscience long gone—did it ever work on you? The begging to stop? To be good again? Your brother's pleas?"
The hit lands. Clean and brutal. I don't answer.
She leans forward, chains groaning, voice low.
"Exactly. You want me to crawl back to the light while you built an altar to your darkness and called it survival. That's not a rescue mission, Kayden. That's hypocrisy."
I look at her. She's not wrong. But fuck if I'll let that be the end of it.
"You're right, Sage," I say, and this time I let the grin fall away. "It's real fucking hypocritical. I am a monster. Have been for a hell of a lot longer than you. I've done worse shit than you can imagine."
Her lips curl. "Now we're talking. So how about it, Kayden? Let me go, and we can roam together as the monsters we are. The world deserves it."
I step closer, drop to one knee in front of her. Within reach of her teeth, her claws, and her rage.
"You know," I say, voice low, "there's a part of me… the old part, the one that used to love the taste of chaos. That part stirs when you talk like that. I can picture it—us, fire and blood and freedom. But that's not who I am anymore. And it sure as hell isn't who you are."
She raises a brow, unimpressed. "Don't tell me we're going there. That tired speech—'your love changed me.' Really? You gonna hit me with that now?"
"Yeah," I admit. "Exactly that. Because sometimes the cheesiest stuff is true. You happened to me, Sage. And everything shifted."
I reach out and brush a strand of hair behind her ear. She doesn't flinch. Doesn't lunge. My thumb lingers on her cheek, then falls away.
"I'm not here to argue. Not gonna throw the same tired words at you like we all have, over and over. I'm not here to fix you, or to beg. I'm just… here."
A lump tightens in my throat, but I push past it.
"I'm here to be with you. In this. In the dark. If that's where you need to be right now."
She watches me, wary, skeptical, but listening.
I slide down beside her, back against the cold wall, close enough to share warmth.
"I'll love you the way you need to be loved," I whisper. "Not the way I want. Not the way I think you should be. Because you're right, I'd be a hypocrite otherwise. You saw me in the dark and still chose me. I owe you at least that much."
I take her hands gently, cradling them in mine, rough and calloused against hers, still cold from everything she's done. I bring them to my lips and press a kiss to each one.
"I'm here for whatever you can give. If you want to rage, I'll take it. If you want to scream, I'll listen. If you want to cry, I'll hold you. And if… if there's any part of you that still remembers love, that wants it without strings or expectations…"
I guide her hands to my chest, holding them there, right over my heart.
"I'm right here. No conditions. No demands. I love you, Sage. That hasn't changed. And it never fucking will."
My voice breaks.
"You're not alone in this. Not while I'm still breathing."
Her eyes search mine for a long, silent beat.
And for a second, just one goddamn second, I see a flicker. Something behind the shadow. Recognition.
Maybe even… regret.
But then—
That grin.
That cold, menacing grin slices through the fragile hope, and something inside my chest fractures.
"How cute," she says, yanking her hands from mine. "The problem is: I don't do love. I never have. All I needed was a little backup against Darius. And you couldn't even deliver that."
Her words land like a blade straight to the sternum. I swear, I feel bone cracking.
I swallow hard, once. Twice. Still can't recover.
But I don't step back.
"You don't have to love me," I manage. "Hell, you don't even have to come back to me. Just… don't do this. Don't shut everyone out. Don't sink so deep into the darkness that you can't find a way out. Asher, Donna, your friends—they're still here. They care. They're terrified for you."
I shake my head, voice fraying.
"I still see the woman I fell for. I know the darkness is talking right now, but it's not stronger than you. It never was."
She yawns. Actually yawns. "Are you finished yet? Gods, at least you were interesting when you were still a monster."
Monster.
The way she says it—light, mocking, and dismissive—rattles something loose inside me.
I feel it stir. That old hunger. That quiet, simmering fury.
I rise to my feet slowly, looming over her, and I let a low, dangerous laugh out.
"Maybe you're right," I say, voice menacing. "Maybe love isn't what's needed here. Maybe it's time to stop pretending I'm the better man."
"Oh? Should I be scared?" she says, all drawl and defiance.
I lean in, eyes narrowed, smile cruel.
"Remember, sweetheart, if it's monsters you want, I've got one locked and loaded. I've played in darkness longer than you've been alive. And if we're doing this the hard way? Fine. Just know, I don't lose. Not in this game."
She watches me with a spark of something twisted. Thrill, maybe. "Mmm… there he is," she purrs, standing up. "You're hot when you stop pretending to be decent. So go on then. Let the monster play. But if I'm chained… that's hardly fair, husband." The word drips from her lips like venom.
I smirk. Step closer.
"Oh, Sage," I murmur, tone dipped in danger and charm, "even chained, you're lethal. A poisonous, beautiful thing. And gods, you've never turned me on more."
My hand lifts to her cheek, gentle, at first. But then it shifts.
My fingers curl around her throat.
Her breath hitches.
"No," I say, voice all steel now. "No more games. No more speeches. I'm done asking."
I tighten just enough for her pulse to jump under my grip.
"I'm going to break you, inch by inch. Not out of cruelty, but because it's the only way to get you back. You'll fight me. You'll hate me. And then, one day, you'll beg. Not because I demand it. Because you'll want to."
She squirms. I hold her tighter. And for the first time since she turned, I see a flicker of genuine confusion and doubt. The tiniest crack in the facade.
Good.
I push her hard against the cold stone, lean close, my voice a promise and a warning.
"You should know by now, Sage. I'll never let you go. If I have to follow you into the abyss, I'll do it with open arms. If pain's the only language you understand, then I'll speak it fluently. We'll burn together, if we must. But I'm not letting you vanish into this void without me."
I release her slowly, let the silence stretch. She doesn't speak. Doesn't smile. No snarling or venomous words.
I got to her. And she knows it.