Page 97 of Scarlet Wars
Silence folded around us, the kind that hummed with everything unspoken.
Then…
“While you were down there, held captive, did you call out for me?”
The words sounded rough, and for the first time, I saw it, an edge of rawness flickering beneath all that control.
I blinked, frowning. “What? How could you possibly?—”
“You talked during your attack just now,” he cut in quietly, almost disbelieving. “You said,‘Caden will come.’”
My stomach dropped.
Jesus. Could this get any more humiliating?
I closed my lids and tried to push past the embarrassment.
“In that cellar,” I whispered, “I didn’t get to sleep much. A few hours, maybe. When I did…” The memory twisted its claws deep. “I kept having these dreams where you’d come barreling down the stairs. At some point, I must’ve said your name out loud, because Amy… She asked me who you were.”
I swallowed hard. “Guessing that’s what you heard.”
Caden moved before I could take another breath. His hand shot out, catching the back of my neck, dragging me closer until his forehead crashed against mine. The contact was fierce, searing. His breath came hot and uneven between us, his whole body drawn tight and barely contained.
I could feel the tremor in him, rage and anguish coiled together, threatening to break. His eyes burned into mine from inches away, pupils blown wide, his chest rising and falling against my knees with every ragged breath.
“You have no idea,” he rasped, voice splintering under the weight of it, “how much itkillsme to know you were held against your will—reaching for me—and I didn’t come for you.”
Regret and fury tangled so tight in his words, they were indistinguishable. His thumb brushed my jaw, trembling once before it steadied again, as if sheer force of will was the only thing keeping him from tearing the world apart.
I gave him the smallest smile, then lifted my shaking hands to press against his chest, steadying both of us. “You didn’t know, Caden.”
He shook his head once. “Never again.”
His forehead still rested against mine, grounding me as much as himself. The air between us throbbed with everything he wasn’t saying, the promise, the rage, the self-hatred.
“What do you need?”
I took in a steadying breath. “I need to not be screwed up about it. Honestly… With everything that happened with my parents, I haven’t even thought about it. I need this not to become another entry on my endless list of traumata. I need it not to turn into a trigger. And I need,” my voice cracked, “to not be afraid of the fucking dark.”
Caden’s hand tightened against the back of my neck, enough to make me feel his pulse hammering through his fingers. When he spoke, it came out like a vow dragged from the depths of him, raw and deadly sincere.
“I’ll never let anyone touch you again,” he said, each word clipped. “Not a hand. Not a threat. I swear on my fucking life, Emma, no one hurts you and walks away breathing.”
I grabbed his hand and turned it over, opening his palm. Then I pressed my lips to the center of it. “I believe you,” I whispered, my heartbeat finally slowing.
For a moment, everything stilled. He simply stared at me, like the act itself had unraveled something inside him. The fury didn’t fade, but it shifted, condensed into something quieter, colder.
Purpose.
His expression hardened again; steel slid back into place as he snapped back into cold command. “Name.”
I shook my head. “Caden…”
“I said,name.”
“Caden, he’s not worth?—”
“I respectfully disagree. Name.”
