Page 62 of Black Heart

“There was a time I believed in honor,” he begins. “I was a soldier once, who believed in duty and country. Ten years ago, I was ... someone else. A second lieutenant in military intelligence. Analytical operations, threat assessment, data mining—the kind of work that shapes wars.”

A shiver cuts through me at the detachment in his voice.

“I was good at it. Seeing patterns, predicting moves, unraveling complex networks of information.” He pauses, a muscle working in his jaw. “After my tour ended, I transitioned to civilian life. Landed a position as a cybersecurity consultant for a tech firm dealing in government contracts. High-stakes work, but it felt tame after the military.”

Kaden’s focus drifts over my shoulder to the window, focusing on something I can’t see. “I had a routine. Up at 0500 every morning for a run along the coast. The sea air, the sunrise, it centered me. Reminded me why I did what I did.”

A smile touches his lips, there and gone in an instant. “Then home to my daughter before heading to the office.”

Daughter.

The word arrows into my mind, and suddenly I’m six years old again, standing in my first-grade classroom. Miss Hanson is asking everyone to draw their families for Parents’ Day. I remember the waxy smell of crayons, the scratch of paper, the excited chatter of my classmates.

I’d drawn a stick figure of myself, alone.

Looking at Kaden, I see a different little girl in his eyes. One who had a father who came home to her, who probably colored family portraits with too many crayons and hung them on the fridge.

I want to ask about her. What was her name? Did she have Kaden’s eyes, his rare smile? Did she wait by the window for him to come home, the way I used to imagine a father would come for me?

But the words stick in my throat, because I know. I know with a certainty that chills me to my marrow that this story doesn’t have a happy ending.

Kaden’s voice grows harder. “I thought I’d left the war behind when I was honorably discharged. I was wrong. The enemy was closer than I ever imagined, and I didn’t even know I was still fighting.”

He takes a deep breath. “There was an operation back when I was in the military. We disrupted a major overseas criminal network. Drug trafficking, arms dealing. It was all data to me then. Numbers on a screen, connections to be severed. We cost them millions. Crippled their operations. I never considered the face behind the data. Until that face found me.”

“Frank Morelli,” I whisper.

Kaden gives a short nod, his eyes a bottomless black. “One morning, I went for my run. Fog thick as soup. Came back to...” His voice falters for a split second. “To make my kid a pancakebreakfast for graduating middle school. But the house was empty. Cassie was gone.”

I forget how to exhale, my body frozen mid-breath.

The pieces start to fall into place.

“We mounted a search. Every resource, every favor called in. Nothing.”

Kaden tears from my hold, pacing like a caged animal.

“I resigned that day. Liquidated everything. Called in every contact from my military days. But I refused to leave it in someone else’s hands. Strangers, friends … not one of them was me. No one understood the need to find Cassie more thanme. But I needed skills. So I went off-grid. Found teachers. Former special forces. Retired assassins. Learned every method of killing, tracking, disappearing.”

Kaden stops, his back to me. “My first job was to track down one of Morelli’s human traffickers in Bangkok. He told me Morelli sold her to him. That she was pumped full of heroin and handed around to rich, foreign executives and nothing was left of her.” Kaden’s voice breaks. “His death was sloppy. Messy. But effective. And I was nowhere near done.”

There is literal blood on his hands as he speaks.

“I refined my methods. Became a ghost, like Morelli. The Scythe.” A humorless laugh escapes him. “Ironic. I became the very thing I once hunted.”

Kaden turns, and I force myself not to flinch from the cold fury in his eyes.

“Morelli was impossible to locate, but I convinced myself that every job brought me closer. Every kill honed my talent. I dismantled his network piece by piece. Year after year, hoping he’d resurface. I’d immersed myself in the disguise of an assassin for hire. So much, I didn’t just wear the Scythe’s mask, Ibecamehim and would take jobs unrelated to my goal just to stay believable. Until I started to enjoy it. Then one of mycontacts slipped me a photograph. A picture of you. You were the unexpected variable. The key I’ve been searching for all these years.”

I wrap my arms around my waist, hugging myself.

“Your face…” Kaden shakes his head, as if dislodging the unwelcome tenderness in his voice. “You were an innocent. I verified that by learning everything about you, including how you accessed company servers after hours. It was crafty of you, using your skills to protect yourself from that lech of a supervisor.”

I ignore the flattery, my stomach churning. How long had Morelli been watching me?

“But you stumbled onto something bigger, didn’t you?” Kaden continues, his words precise. “Security footage. Your boss and an unknown figure, discussing some ‘cleanup operation’ involving AI tech.”

The memory of that night makes me grimace. The stupidity, the confusion, the weight of the USB drive in my pocket.

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