Page 66 of Black Heart

His eyes snap to mine, wide and unguarded for the first time since we met. They’re no longer just the color of a storm-tossed sea but full of its turmoil, too.

Then he’s moving away, distancing himself from me as if afraid of what we’ve just admitted.

“Kaden,” I prompt softly, trying to reach him.

But he’s erected his walls, making himself impenetrable.

“There is no ‘we’, Layla,” he murmurs. “You don’t even know my fucking last name.”

“I know your pain,” I say, talking past the stab of hurt at his statement. “I know your thirst for justice, your rule against harming innocent people, and your urge to protect. Isn’t that better than a surname that tells me nothing about you?”

He chuckles bitterly. “And what if my last name is all that I am?”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s not enough!” Kaden snaps, his voice rebounding off the aged walls of my once peaceful cottage. There’s no malice in his outburst, only a sore desperation that sends a tremor of empathy through me.

He spins away from me, shoulders set as he looks out toward the fog-shrouded lighthouse looming in the distance.

“Do you think this ends with Morelli?” he asks, his voice a hollow imitation of itself. “Do you think there will be some sort of happily ever after once I’ve gotten my hands on him?”

“Then how do you want it to end, Kaden?” I manage to choke out.

He glances at me over his shoulder. “It only ends one way for men like me.”

“You’re wrong,” I whisper. “It could be different. Itcanbe different...”

“No,” he rumbles, shaking his head. “I’m beyond redemption.”

Suddenly, the room feels too cold, too bleak.

In a last-ditch attempt to bridge the growing chasm between us, I reach out for him. “Kaden…”

But he’s already moving to my front door, his pace as firm as a soldier heading to the battlefield.

With no plans to return.

20

KADEN

Layla has me in a chokehold.

I catch her silhouette through the kitchen’s window as I stand outside, staring at her rather than the expansive view of the peninsula. I take a quick drag from my cigarette, letting it fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. It’s been ten years since I quit, but this morning is an exception, and I need a fucking smoke.

The sea-sprayed fog seems to be seeping into my eyes as I study her through the glass. The soft glow of dawn illuminates her, turning her into a ghostly wisp of golden hair and pale skin.

It’s a vision that sears itself into my obsession … and fuels more agony.

The nicotine calms the thrumming in my veins, numbing my senses just enough to focus on the task at hand—setting up additional surveillance around the property to further control the environment, with Layla as the main attraction.

I’m not the only one tempted by her. Once Morelli realizes his three thugs failed to acquire her, he’ll want to ensure thenext attempt will be a success. He did the same with my daughter, and the more difficult a mark Layla becomes, the more likely he’ll want to eliminate her himself.

I grimace at the memory, crushing the half-burned cigarette under my heel before moving toward the shed housing more tools. The early morning sunlight glints off the familiar shape of my sniper rifle, stashed away for a time like this.

My fingers itch to reach for it. But that’s not what I’m here for right now. I’m not hunting today, I’m fortifying. My gaze skims over the various gadgets strewn across the workbench: tiny cameras, tripwires, and packets of C-4, each instrument another layer in my plan to protect Layla from Morelli’s clutches, even while I make her a target.

I set to work on rigging up an extra network of cameras over the dense forest surrounding Layla’s house. Each time I drill a hole into the bark, I envision just one more eye watching over her. Beads of sweat trickle down my back as I spend hours scaling trees and rerouting wires, the physical labor a welcome distraction.

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