Page 343 of Scarlet Wars
“You turned the man who has always stayed in control into someone who forgets how to breathe when you whisper his name.” His mouth curved faintly, almost incredulous. “Someone whose pulse stutters just from the weight of your presence.”
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve faced armies without flinching, yet you undo me with a look.”
His hand slid down my arm, fingers curling around my wrist like he was making sure I stayed right there.
“You thought I was the villain of your story,” he continued quietly, “and you still found the strength to forgive me. You fell for me before you even knew the truth about Coastal. While you fought every instinct pulling you toward me, you saw through the lies long before you understood what they were.”
He lifted our joined hands between us and pressed his lips to my open palm. “You saw me. Therealme. The man beneath the masks, the blood, the sins I wear like armor.”
His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “And in seeing me, you turned me back into someone I thought I’d buried for good.”
He let out a slow breath. “You rewrote me, Emma.”
His other hand returned to my face, gentler this time. “You make me crave things I swore I’d never need.”
“You see past the charm. Past the rough edges and practiced confidence.” A faint, breathless laugh escaped him. “You’re not dazzled by it.” His fingers tightened slightly against my jaw. “You dismantle it.”
His eyes locked onto mine, steady and certain. “You have no idea how completely you own me, simply by existing in my world.”
Tears were streaming down my face, my heart unable to contain the emotion caused by his words.
“Trust me, Emma. I’m scaredshitlessto lose you too. But we’ll fight it,” Caden said, his voice rough with quiet desperation. His hands tightened at my jaw like he could hold me together through sheer will, his thumbs brushing over the tear tracks on my cheeks. “I promise you, whatever future we saw, we’ll fight it together.”
His forehead dropped to mine again; his breath ragged against my skin. His grip tightened like he was trying to steady himself.
“Don’t do this, baby” he murmured. “Don’t denyus.”
My breath broke on a sharp, shaky exhale.
“Choose me,” he whispered. His forehead pressed hard against mine again. “My amazing, brilliant, gorgeous Nightcrawler.”
A wet laugh broke from my throat, half-sob, half-relief.
My mouth trembled as I tried to breathe around the pressure swelling in my chest. “We really need to find you a new nickname for me.”
His lips curved, soft and almost reverent. “We can renegotiate,” he murmured, “if you come to Crown with me.”
I stared at this beautiful man as my mind worked through all he said.
Was he right? Could we really do this?
Could I trust him to keep us safe, to keephimselfsafe? Did I trustusmore than fragments of visions and half-formed futures that haunted my sleep? More than the idea that loving him might cost us both everything?
Did I trust what we had was strong enough—that we weresmartenough—to survive whatever hell the future would inevitably throw at us?
And finally, stripped of fear and strategy and survival, did Iwantthis?
Did I wanthim, andus, and all the risk that came with it?
I stared up at him, at the raw intensity in his beautiful eyes, the way he was holding himself together by sheer will, and the chaos in my chest finally settled.
Because the answer—to every single question—was irrevocablyyes.
My gaze dropped to his mouth, and I knew he felt it too. The shift.
The weight of my choice settled fully into my bones. And then I finally let myself say it, quietly but without hesitation.
“Deal.”
