Page 47 of Black Heart

Every muscle of Kaden’s is primed like a spring under immense pressure. A rhythmic tic flutters along his jawline.For a moment, he seems poised on the edge of violence. Then, unexpectedly, a bitter laugh escapes him.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you? Let me tell you something, Wraithling. Death isn’t the enemy here. It’s just another tool. And I’ll use every damn utensil at my disposal to get what I want.”

He pauses, his mask slipping—revealing the man he buried alive.

“As for my humanity?” His voice drops to an undertone, coarse and jaded. “I carved that out a long time ago, along with everything else that made me weak.”

Kaden pulls back abruptly, as if realizing he’s said too much. His veneer of cold indifference slams back into place. “Walk. We’re not having this conversation in the middle of the woods, out in the open.”

Pine needles crunch under my feet as I force my legs to move, to follow his retreating form through the undergrowth.

As we trudge onward, I study the rigid lines of his back, the tension in his shoulders. The scar on his face, I realize, is more than just a physical mark—it’s a manifestation of the wounds that have shaped him, the violence that has driven him to this point.

The impulse to reach out, to offer comfort or understanding, rises within me, but I tamp it down. Kaden’s walls are too high, his defenses too impenetrable. Any attempt at connection would likely be met with scorn or, worse, viciousness.

Kaden maintains a punishing pace, his long strides eating up the distance while I scramble to keep up. Branches claw at my arms, and exposed roots threaten to snare my ankles, but Kaden moves through the brush like a seasoned hunter, silent and relentless, and I have no choice but to follow.

The trees thin out as we near the edge of the woods, moonlight filtering through the canopy. Kaden slows, his head cocked as if listening for predators. I strain my ears, but all I hear is the thud of my own heart and the rasp of my breathing.

We break through the tree line, emerging onto a narrow dirt road. An old pickup truck is parked on the shoulder, its faded blue paint almost silver. Kaden strides over to it, yanking open the passenger door with a screech of rusted hinges.

“Get in,” he grunts, jerking his head toward the cab.

I hesitate, eyeing the truck skeptically. It looks like it’s seen better days, the tires bald and the windshield cracked.

Kaden’s patience snaps. He grabs my arm, hauling me toward the vehicle. I yelp, stumbling, but his grip is unbreakable. He all but shoves me into the seat, slamming the door behind me.

At this point, I’m convinced what happened between us back at the warehouse, where I gave him ecstasy and he gave me his name, was all in my imagination.

The cab smells of stale cigarettes and motor oil, the upholstery threadbare and stained. Kaden climbs in the driver’s side, the truck dipping under his weight. He jams the key into the ignition, and the engine sputters to life with a belch of exhaust.

We lurch onto the road, the truck’s suspension groaning as we bounce over the ruts. I clutch the door handle, my knuckles white, as Kaden pushes the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer needle climbs past sixty, seventy, eighty, the woods blurring past the windows.

I chance a peek at Kaden’s profile, his features harsh in the dashboard’s glow, his scar appearing more like a weapon than an injury.

“Where are we going?” I dare to ask.

Kaden’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. So manyseconds pass that I think he’s ignoring me, when he finally responds. “I told you. Home.”

To my utter horror, my stomach drops at the thought of him dumping me at the lighthouse, then walking away. “And then what? You’ll just leave me there, go off on your suicide mission?”

“We’re not done,” he says so smoothly that it’s clear he’s regained control. “Your little date with Ethan tonight proved one thing: you can’t be trusted to stay put and stay safe.”

Dread and a perverse fascination war within me, leaving me dizzy and off-balance. “What are you saying?”

Kaden turns to meet my gaze, unflinching. “I’m saying that from now on, I’ll be staying there. With you.”

The implications of his words make the back of my head slam against the seat. “You’re moving in?”

A cold smile flirts with the corners of his mouth. “Consider it a security measure. For both our sakes.”

As I sit there, frozen in disbelief, Kaden slows the car in front of my home. “Better make some space, Wraithling. Your new roommate has arrived.”

15

KADEN

Layla stands on her porch with her arms folded when I slow my truck in front of her cottage the following morning, the ocean waves frothing against the weathered cliffs below. She’s wrapped herself in a soft blanket since I dropped her off a few hours ago and returned to the warehouse for my things, the salty air tangling her hair under the eerie glow of the fog-twisted dawn.

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