Page 23 of Scarlet Wars
I had no idea how long I was riding. Seconds, minutes, it all blurred together. Every twist of the machine felt both too slowand too fast, as if the road itself was stretching to keep her out of reach.
My chest ached with the thought every mile I missed was another mile dragging her farther away.
For a breath, I almost second-guessed my plan.
Second-guessing is a fast way to die.
Until something shifted at the edge of the road. A flicker of movement, right outside the beam of my headlights. A shadow, oddly shaped, out of sync with everything else.
At first, I hardly registered it, too locked in, too focused on the path ahead.
But then the light swept over it, and I noticed a small figure standing there.
Far off. Barely moving. But something in the shape, the way it stood…
My gut seized. I knew that outline. That stance.
Familiar. So violently familiar it hit like a punch to the ribs, as if my body recognized her before my brain caught up.
My hand jerked on the handlebars, the front tire lurching sideways over the gravel. I slammed my foot down, cutting the engine, the sudden silence ringing in my ears as if the whole world had stopped breathing.
And then—there she was.
Emma.
Bare feet scraping the gravel. Clothes shredded into rags that clung to her as though they were the only thing left keeping her together. Her skin streaked with blood—some dried, some fresh—running down one arm, splattered across her legs. Her hair a knotted mess, clinging to her face with sweat and dirt.
The sight of her fuckingguttedme.
I was off the bike before I even knew I’d moved, boots skidding across stone as my chest tore open with each poundingheartbeat. It felt as if my ribs couldn’t contain it, as if my body was breaking just trying to reach her.
She swayed, lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but no sound came.
I caught her before gravity did.
My arms locked around her waist, hauling her upright, clutching her like I could will her back into herself.
She flinched at my touch—violently— as if she didn’t even recognize me. Her body jerked in my hold as if it seared her, and the recoil told me everything I didn’t want to know.
“Emma, it’s me. It’s Caden.” The words broke out of me, cracked and raw, desperate even, and I knew if I didn’t make her hear me right now, I’d fuckingloseher.
Her eyes… Christ, hereyes. Hollow. Vacant. So empty it made my stomach pitch and my throat close.
Her breath faltered as a tremor shivered through her. Her focus dragged toward me but didn’t land, drifting like she was half-gone.
She shoved weakly at my chest, as though she couldn’t tell I was real. I crushed her closer, arm banding tight around her.
“Emma. Look at me.” My command was iron.
Her gaze finally snagged mine. A flicker. A thread. Not whole, not steady, but something reached me through the wreckage.
“Caden?” Her voice cracked on my name, thin and broken, but it landed with the weight of a stone in my chest.
My jaw locked, worry and rage tangling hot and violent under my ribs. I slid a hand to the back of her neck, holding her steady, like contact might fuse her to me, keep her from unraveling right here.
“I’ve got you,” I growled, low and certain, even though my throat was gravel and fire. “You hear me? I’vegotyou.”
“Caden,” she whimpered. Barely a sound. Barely a breath. But it fucking wrecked me. “It hurts…”
