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“Maybe,” I agreed. “But he was also brave, and kind, and the best damn hunter I've ever known. Not because he was perfect, but because he cared.”

Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words. The moonlight filtered through the balcony doors, casting long shadows across the floor where we stood frozen in this moment of truth. Cade's eyes never left the vial in my hand, the swirling blue-white essence of himself captured in crystal. His soul pulsed with its own rhythm, like a heart separated from its body, still desperately trying to beat.

I could feel the weight of his gaze, could see the battle playing out across his face. The soulless Cade who valued logic, efficiency, and emotionless precision warring with some deeperinstinct that recognized what he was missing. The mark on his chest seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight, as if responding to the proximity of his soul.

Cassiel stood silently by, his presence almost forgotten in the tension between Cade and me. The angel's eyes were sharp, watchful, calculating as he observed this pivotal moment. Whatever happened next would change everything.

Cade stepped forward, his movements deliberate and slow, as if he were approaching a wounded animal. His hand reached out toward the vial.

“Give it to me,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

I instinctively pulled back, clutching the soul vial closer to my chest. The swirling light inside brightened at my protective gesture, casting eerie shadows across my face.

“Cade, I don't know if?—”

“Please,” he said, something like desperation bleeding into his usually controlled voice. “I need to see it. To hold it.”

“What if you destroy it?” The fear that had been gnawing at my insides finally spilled out. “What if this is just another logical decision for you? Get rid of the soul, stay the cold, calculating hunter you think you're better off being?”

Hurt flashed across his face, so real and raw it startled me. Maybe there was more of the real Cade in there than I'd thought.

“Is that what you think of me?” he asked quietly. “That I'd destroy a part of myself out of... convenience?”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. “I don't know what to think anymore. The Cade I knew wouldn't have hesitated to take his soul back. But you...” I gestured vaguely at him with my free hand, “You've been making it pretty clear you're not him.”

He flinched as if I'd struck him, and guilt immediately surged through me. Even without his soul, Cade could still be hurt bymy words, could still react to rejection. The realization made me pause.

“I'm still me,” he said, his voice stronger now. “Maybe not all of me, but I'm still Cade Cross. I still...” he hesitated, searching for words, “I still care about you. In my way.”

Those words hit me harder than I expected, a mixture of pain and hope making my chest tight. I looked down at the vial in my hand, at the essence of the man I'd gone to hell and back for.

“I just want you back,” I admitted, my voice rough with emotion. “All of you.”

“I know,” he said softly. His hand reached out again, hovering in the space between us. “Let me see it, Sean. Please.”

Reluctantly, I extended my hand, the vial resting in my palm. Cade's fingers closed over mine, warm and familiar, the calluses from years of hunting rough against my skin. For a moment, we both held it, connected by this fragile container housing Cade's most fundamental self.

My fingers trembled slightly as I released my grip, letting the vial pass fully into his possession. An irrational part of me expected the soul inside to protest, to try to flee back to me, but it just continued its rhythmic swirling, perhaps even brightening slightly as Cade raised it up to examine it.

He held the vial up to the moonlight, turning it slowly, watching as his soul moved within its crystal prison. The blue-white light illuminated his face from below, catching in his eyes and making them gleam with an otherworldly intensity. In that moment, with his face bathed in the light of his own soul, he looked almost angelic.

“It's warm,” he murmured, surprise evident in his voice.

I nodded, remembering the sensation of it against my palm. “Like holding a live coal wrapped in silk.”

Cade's brow furrowed in concentration as he studied the swirling essence. “It feels... familiar. Like a word on the tip of my tongue.”

“It's you,” I said simply.

His thumb stroked the smooth surface of the crystal, and the soul inside seemed to respond, flowing toward his touch like a flower turning toward the sun. Cade's expression shifted, something like uncertainty crossing his face. For a heart-stopping moment, I thought he might hand the vial back, might reject his soul altogether. His grip on the crystal tightened, knuckles whitening with tension.

“And if I don't want it?” he asked, voice strained. “If I prefer being... like this?”

“Then that wouldn't be your choice,” I argued, desperate now. “It would be the choice of this... this hollow version of you. The real Cade would want to be whole.”

“How do you know what the real Cade would want?” he challenged, a spark of anger flaring. “Maybe this is what I've always wanted—to be free of guilt, of doubt, of all the emotional baggage that slowed me down.”

“Because I know you,” I insisted, taking a step closer. “I've fought beside you, bled with you, saved you and been saved by you more times than I can count. The real Cade Cross values his humanity above everything. He sees the good in monsters when no one else can. He gives second chances when anyone else would pull the trigger.”