Page 183 of Scarlet Wars
Sean turned his head slowly. “What did she say?”
I swallowed, forcing my attention back to him despite the emotion clawing up my throat. “She said, ‘Choose this.’”
Sean went very still beside me. For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was our breathing.
Then he reached out and found my hand, lacing our fingers together. His grip was firm, grounding, the kind of quiet pressure that reminded me I was still here, still real, still his sister.
“Between the Chiefs demanding you bond with James,” he said quietly, “and now portals showing ye versions of the future with Caden—what everyone else thinks ye should want—yer being pulled in half by duty.”
“Yes,” I breathed. The single word was a release. “Exactlythat.”
“Emma.” His tone softened a tad before a smile tugged faintly at the corner of his mouth. “Fuck all of that.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Fuck all of it. Ye’ve always known better than to let anyone else dictate yer choices. So don’t think about anyone else, and tell me…” He leaned forward slightly, eyes searching mine. “When ye think of Caden… What doyefeel?”
I swallowed, caught between instinct and truth. I could’ve dodged. Could’ve joked, or shrugged, or pretended I didn’t know. But something in his tone made it impossible.
So I let myself picture him.
Caden’s face. His infuriating smirk. Those dark, whiskey eyes that saw too much. The quiet way he took up space, like he belonged in it. The fire that burned under every word, every breath.
And before I could stop it, a small, traitorous smile curved my lips.
“I feel…” My throat closed around the word, and I had to push it out. “Relief.”
Sean tilted his head, waiting, patient, the silence stretching between us like a question he didn’t have to ask. Because there was more.
I closed my eyes. “When everything’s too loud—when the world feels like it’s crushing me, when I’m inpain—he just…stands there. And somehow, it gets easier to breathe. He simply…” My hands twisted together, as if they could wrestle the ache inside me into something coherent. “He takes it. The weight. The grief. All of it.”
The words cracked through me like glass shattering.
“I’ve spent my whole life bleeding alone, hiding every wound like it was shameful. And then he came along and ripped the bandages off, made me stop pretending. He doesn’t flinch. Not at my scars, not at the parts of me I hate, not even at the darkness I can’t always control. He…”
My voice dropped, breaking, because the truth was jagged, impossible to soften. “He takes away my pain.”
I sucked in a trembling breath, pressing a hand to my chest as if I could cage the storm inside. “And gods help me, Sean, it terrifies me. Because I don’t know what I’d be if he ever stopped.”
When I opened my eyes, Sean was still there, sitting across from me, watching quietly. His smile was gentle, the kind that didn’t push but somehow still pulled everything out of me.
“Do ye want to be with him?” he asked softly.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight, and managed a small, jerky nod.
Sean’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened: conviction. He reached across the space between us and took my hand in his again, his grip steady and grounding.
“Then go tell him. Life’s too fuckin’ short when we’re on the brink of war, Emma. Too short to live it by anyone’s standards but yer own. Go. Tell. Him.”
My voice came out smaller than I wanted. “What if he dies?”
Sean’s brows drew together. “Is that what’s been holdin’ ye back all this time? Yer afraid to let yerself have him because ye might lose him?”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “Pretty stupid, huh?”
“No,mo dheirfiúr,” he replied quietly. “It’s not stupid. It’s as human as we get.” He leaned in, holding my gaze. “But let me ask ye this: if he died tomorrow, would ye hurt any less just because ye never said it?”
I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “No.”
