Page 227 of Scarlet Wars
“And he knows my translation is the same as Julian’s.”
A shadow crossed my lover’s face. “Which means he could makeyouthe exception to it. Which is why you survived translating beneath it. I just don’t understand why he’d want you to be.”
“Because,” I said quietly, the truth settling heavy on my tongue, “I’m his only success.”
Caden launched to his feet so fast the bed groaned under the motion, the sudden violence of it enough to make the air ripple. “He needs you alive to replicate the result.”
A chill crawled its way up my spine. “Caden…” My voice turned paper-thin, barely there. “That has to be it.”
He went still—unnervingly still—like a man whose body had briefly forgotten to breathe so his mind could sharpen into something ancient and vicious. Calm. Controlled.Honed.
The kind of stillness that came right before annihilation, when a predator stopped pacing only because the kill was already decided.
Low enough to be intimate and lethal in the same breath, he said, “He won’t fucking touch you.”
I leaned into him and slid my hand into his, grounding him with the soft sweep of my thumb, anchoring him to the present instead of the battlefield he’d already marched into in his head.
“I’m not worried,” I murmured, holding his gaze with a steadiness I hoped matched the iron in my resolve. “He’ll never get to me.”
“Never,” he swore, staring at me with eyes as black as his haze, a blood oath, carved from grit and fury, delivered through clenched teeth like a promise written in stone.
I pressed my lips softly against his. Quick, and intentional, a seal to the oath and a reminder of what we were protecting.
When I pulled back, he spoke quietly, as the gears in his head kept visibly turning. “Cara said the man behind the bubble handed the Radicals the Amplifier.”
His frown carved deeper, teeth grazing his lower lip. “Why would Gordon arm the Radicals with a nuclear weapon? If his endgame is merging magi and humans, why supply the people trying to stop the Great Exposure?”
I exhaled slowly, frustration knotting low in my stomach. “She could’ve been lying.”
Caden nodded, but I could see he wasn’t convinced.
Then—like a match striking—I felt a spark catch.
“Julian told James something,” I said, turning my head toward the board again. “Gordon lost his entire family in the Battle of ’59. Which we now know was a war between humans and magi. It would make sense he would never want another Great Exposure.” I paused. “And who were fighting to stop it?”
Caden blinked once before speaking. “The Radicals.”
I lifted a hand and tapped the whiteboard, once. “Exactly.”
Caden pushed to his feet with a dangerous kind of calm.
A beat sat heavy between us, the hum of the room too quiet for what we’d uncovered.
“But then…” I lifted my gaze to his. “Is Gordon working with the Collabs? Or with the Radicals?”
Caden stared at the board like it might bleed answers if he glared hard enough. “I have no fucking clue.”
FIFTY
EMMA
A week after our first real theory about Gordon came to life, Caden and I decided to inform Rachel of our findings.
Making my way to Rachel’s study, I tried to rehearse how the hell I was supposed to bring up the subject of Gordon. I’d told Caden I could handle this on my own—insisted on it—but every step down the hallway made that decision look increasingly stupid.
Telling a world-class First Offensive I’d been mind-raped into this life was already an impossible, nausea-inducing task.
Telling her the person responsible for it had probably bubbled in the nation directly next to hers?
