Page 355 of Scarlet Wars
He dragged a hand over his face, as if he could scrub the memory out of existence.
“I gave the verbal order for the arrest of a traitor,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I signed off on it. Didn’t even look at the document…”
Tears slid down my cheeks, unnoticed until they hit my hands. I didn’t even feel them fall. Only the cold after.
“While I was in Monaco,” he went on, and this time his voice cracked wide open, “he nexed me again. Said they’d located the perpetrator. Said there were others in the house.”
He looked at me, and I could see the moment the dam broke behind his eyes.
“He asked if our Offensives had clearance to eliminate anyone who interfered with the arrest.”
I shook my head before the words could even come. “No…” I whispered, barely audible. “No, please don’t say it…”
His eyes shimmered, and for the first time since I’d known him, I saw actual tears in Caden’s eyes.
“And I did,” he whispered, the words breaking like glass in his mouth. “I gave the all-clear.”
The sob tore out of me, jarring, the kind that didn’t sound human.
My body collapsed in on itself, folding as I dropped to the floor. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. My chest heaved with silent sobs that tore through me like claws. My hands buried in my hair, yanking, gripping, like I couldripthe truth out before it settled too deep.
I pressed my palms to my face, trying to block everything out, the air, the light, the sound ofhimstill echoing in my ears.
Not real. Please—not real.
He didn’t try to touch me.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
He simply stood there and let me fall apart. Let me drown in everything that I felt.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Time had no shape. No meaning.
Eventually, the tears ran out. I was empty. Scraped hollow.
I forced myself upright. Slowly. Mechanically. Like I was rebuilding my body piece by piece just to sit up again. My vision swam, my throat raw and torn. My hands trembled in my lap.
I looked at him through red-rimmed eyes. “You gave the order that killed my parents?”
Caden didn’t flinch. His face had gone still, cold again—walled off, but I could see it. Behind the quiet, behind the calm.
The agony in his eyes, furious and desperate and sick with regret.
“Yes,” he said.
Only that. One word.
I stared at him, hollowed out, every part of me bruised and splintered.
“How can I…” My voice broke, barely hanging on. “How can I live with that?”
“You won’t have to,” he promised. His tone wasn’t angry; it wasn’t even pleading.
It was nothing more than a shell of sound scraped from whatever was left inside him.
“I’m keeping my promise to you, Emma.”
He swallowed hard, jaw clenched like he was barely holding himself together.
