Page 46 of Black Heart

Me, ever one to sense when I’ve stepped over the line, continues on unabashed, “If I can get into Pulse’s basement and access their mainframe, I can wipe all the data. We wouldn’t have to worry about Morelli getting his hands on it anymore.”

Kaden seems to consider this, the muscles in his cheek working as we resume our trek. I crane my neck to study his face, refusing to break eye contact despite the ache building in my spine. His arms latch around me, fingertips digging into my flesh.

Kaden’s deliberate silence magnifies the forest’s sounds. The clacking of branches, the rustle of nocturnal animals hunting and foraging. The scent of pine trees and wet earth overwhelms Kaden’s delicious smell, even with my nose squished against his shirt.

“No,” he says at last.

“But why not?” I counter, frustration bubbling up. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve gotten in their system before.”

The scar on Kaden’s face seems to darken. “I don’t care whether Morelli gets the AI or not.”

I plant my feet, my sudden stop causing Kaden to collide with me. When the toes of his boots crash into my ankles, I swallow the howl that wants to escape.

Kaden lowers his chin to glare at me, his breath hot on my cheeks. “Do that again, and I’ll truss you up like a spider’s meal. You’ll dangle from these branches, swaying with every breeze, while I decide whether to come back for you ... or not.”

The blood drains from my face, leaving me lightheaded. Kaden’s true motives snap into focus with terrifying clarity, each implication more awful than the last.

A villain doesn’t want to save the world. He wants to watch it burn. And that’s exactly what Kaden is.

He isn’t here to truly protect me or save the world from Morelli’s machinations. He’s here for his own selfish reasons, his vengeance consuming him until nothing is left but its destructive path.

I’d been foolish to think Kaden’s actions were anything more than revenge, no matter how many times he’s saved me.

A cynical laugh escapes my throat. Kaden furrows his brows.

“Stop that,” he snaps before clamping a hand on my shoulder and propelling me forward.

“Why?” I challenge, shrugging off his hold. My voice sounds hollow, even to me. “Is joy and laughter your enemy, too?”

Kaden freezes, his body going stiff. For a heartbeat, his habitual apathy slips, revealing a maelstrom of pain and fury behind his gaze. His hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around my throat—not squeezing.

Time seems to slow. I’m acutely aware of every point of contact: his calloused palm against my jugular, his thumb resting on my pulse point. My breath comes in short, shallow gasps, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

Our eyes lock. This close, I can see flecks of gold in his irises, lightning joining the storm.

I should be terrified. Iamterrified. But there’s also that exhilarating rebellion he brings out in me to stand my ground, to face him head-on rather than surrender.

“You’re so fucking clueless,” he snarls, voice muted. But there’s a tremor there, barely perceptible. “Out here, starry-eyed dreamers like you end up as vulture food. Bury that shit deep.”

Kaden’s fingers flex against my neck, his griptightening incrementally, and for a terrifying second, I wonder if this is how it ends—not at Morelli’s hands, but at the mercy of the man who’s both my savior and my captor. The man who’s awakened something inside me, a reckless disobedience that refuses to cower, even as my pulse hammers beneath his touch.

But then, as abruptly as he grabbed me, Kaden releases his hold, leaving me gasping and unsteady on my feet. He turns away, his broad shoulders a wall between us, and when he speaks again, his voice has returned to that controlled, emotionless cadence.

“Move. Now.”

I hesitate, rubbing my throat, the phantom pressure of his fingers lingering on my skin. The smart thing would be to obey, to fall in line and keep my mouth shut. But I’ve never been one for the easy path.

“Kaden,” I push. “This isn’t the way. You can’t let your hatred consume you. There’s still good in this world, still things worth fighting for beyond revenge.”

He coils, then rounds on me.

“You have no idea how deep my hatred runs,” he says in a lethal whisper, the words grating against his throat like broken glass. “No clue what I’ve endured, what I’ve lost. There is no good left in this world for me.”

The anguish in his voice, fresh and bleeding, drowns my heart.

But I also fortify myself, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin.

“Then tell me,” I challenge. “Make me understand. Because from where I’m standing, you’re just a walking weapon aimed at everyone, including yourself.”

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