Page 64 of Scarlet Wars
My nails dug into my thigh, biting through fabric. “But it’s not a choice.”
“Exactly.” His gaze darkened, jaw set. “He’s full of shit when it comes to your protection, though. This isn’t about keeping you safe. He only wants to make sure Alek—our son—is born.”
I bit the inside of my cheek before replying. “Which makes absolutely no sense at all. If they’re so sure of the future, why so desperate to ensure it will happen? Why not simply let it play out?”
Caden leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His voice was flat, but I heard the strain beneath it. “The future’s still subjective. Your personal choices can still influence the outcome. If they truly believe James to be Alek’s father, you could derail his existence by choosing…” He coughed, the pause sharp. “Another.”
Silence stretched between us, so taut and suffocating, my stomach turned. “So, if I choose the ‘wrong’ father, Alek will not exist?”
“Yes,” James said quickly, rushing in before Caden could answer.
Caden muttered, his irritation clear, “I still think it’s completely ridiculous to accept James’s claim of fatherhood solely based on the Krait’s first name.”
I shrugged. “What does it even matter if the Chiefs are willing to kill off anyone I care about to make sure it happens that way?”
“They are…” James hesitated, as if the words themselves were too dangerous.
My head snapped up. “What?”
“They are very convinced of it based on rather little, I agree. It almost feels like…”
“Like they’ve found another reason to accept you as the father but are unwilling to share whatever it is,” Caden finished, bitterness lacing each word.
James’s silence told me he’d thought the same. He glanced away, voice softening. “Though I have to say, when I first learned the Krait’s name, I believed myself to be the father too.”
I nodded slowly, keeping my expression carefully unreadable. “When I found out James’s real name, I had the same thought.”
Caden stiffened, his head snapping toward James, then to me, his expression dark. “Which is ridiculous. I hope you both know that.”
“Can’t we ask Stephen about this?” I blurted out. “If he informed the United Chiefs of the future, he must have some intel. Anything that could help us.”
The second the sentence left me, I felt the twist of desperation in my chest. Gods. I was willing to let Stephen Stone back into my life for this.
James shook his head, frustration bleeding through the movement. “I’ve been trying to reach him ever since the bubble was imposed, but nothing. Radio silence. I’ll keep trying.”
Before James could elaborate, I cut in, my tone flat, final. “I bought us a year.” My gaze stayed locked on James, not Caden. “That’s all we have.”
James’s jaw flexed once before he gave a curt nod. “Then we’ll have to…figure out how to spend this year.”
The tension radiating off Caden was a living thing, filling the room, pressing against my ribs until it ached. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to.
Without answering James, I rose slowly, every movement feeling heavier than it should have. I crossed the space in silence and stepped through the doorway, the door closing behind me with a soft thud, too quiet, too final for something I knew wasn’t truly over.
I’d beenin my room for maybe five minutes when Caden opened the door and walked in as if he owned the place.
Which he absolutely did not, just FYI. Someone clearly forgot to brief him on that.
He crossed the space with measured steps, the kind that didn’t rattle the air so much as rearrange it. Before I could move, he had me against the wall, his forearms planted on either side of my head.
Not exactly touching me, but close enough the small space between us felt like there was none.
His stare held me in place more effectively than any hand could.
His hand slid, not gently, to my chin, tilting it up until I couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His thumb brushed the edge of my bottom lip, like he was testing how close he could get before I shattered.
“I’ll find a way to break this, Emma. Do you hear me? I’ll tear them all apart before I let them use you like this.”
My lips ached with the nearness of his, but I pressed myself flatter to the stone, as though distance could undo the gravity dragging me toward him. The brush of his thumb lingered, dangerous and electric, each stroke sparking heat that tangled with the cold truth of his words.
