Page 40
Something flickered across Cade's face, a brief shadow of doubt. I pressed on, sensing a crack in his resolve.
“You've been different,” I said softly. “Cold.
Distant. Killing without hesitation or remorse.
That's not you, Cade. That's not the man I...” I swallowed, the word 'love' catching in my throat.
“That's not the man who's saved countless lives, who's always seen the good in others, even when no one else could.”
Cade's gaze dropped to the floor. “Maybe that man was naive,” he said, but there was less conviction in his voice now. “Maybe he let emotions cloud his judgment.”
“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 deeper instinct 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 by my 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.”
I reached out, placing my hand over his heart. “He feels everything so deeply it hurts, and yeah, sometimes that's a burden. But it's also what makes him the best fecking hunter I've ever known. Not because he's cold or calculating, but because he cares.”
Something flickered in Cade's eyes, a shadow of recognition, of longing. His gaze dropped to the vial in his hand, to the soul that pulsed with increasing urgency, as if sensing its moment had come.
For a moment, it looked like he might change his mind, might hand the vial back and walk away. But then he took a deep breath, his shoulders squaring with resolve. Without warning, without asking for instructions or guidance, he pressed the vial to his chest, right over his heart.
“Cade, wait—” Cassiel started forward, alarm evident in his voice.
Too late.
The reaction was immediate and violent. The vial shattered, but instead of glass flying everywhere, it seemed to melt into Cade's skin like ice under a blowtorch. The soul inside, freed from its container, surged into his body in a blinding flash of blue-white light that lit up the entire balcony.
Cade's back arched in a rigid bow, his mouth open in a silent scream as light poured from his eyes, his mouth, even seeping through his skin like he was cracking apart from the inside. The mark on his chest blazed brightest of all, a supernova of light centered over his heart.
Then the scream came, tearing from his throat with such raw agony. His knees buckled, his body convulsing, and I lunged forward without thinking, catching him before he hit the ground.
“Cade!” My voice cracked with panic as I lowered him to the floor, cradling his shuddering form against my chest. “Cade, talk to me!”
The light continued to pour from him, so bright I could barely look directly at him. His skin burned against mine, hot enough that I half-expected to see steam rising from where we touched. But I refused to let go, tightening my grip as he thrashed in my arms.
“What's happening to him?” I demanded, looking to Cassiel who stood frozen, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. “Fecking do something!”
The angel snapped out of his stupor and dropped to his knees beside us, pressing a hand to Cade's forehead. For a moment, Cassiel's eyes glowed with the same ethereal light, as if he was seeing something beyond human perception.
“The soul is reintegrating,” he said, voice tight with concentration. “Too quickly. Too violently. It should have been a gradual process.”
“Fix it!” I ordered, the fear in my voice making it sharp. “He's burning up!”
Cassiel's hand moved to Cade's chest, over the blazing mark. “I'm trying. But his soul is fighting against the barriers Zeryth put in place.”
“The wall,” I remembered with a chill. “Zeryth said not to let him knock on the wall.”
“It's already happening,” Cassiel said grimly. “His soul recognizes the artificial barrier and is trying to tear it down.”
“Stop it!” I begged, holding Cade tighter as another convulsion wracked his body. “If that wall breaks, all his hell memories will hit him at once. It'll destroy him.”
Cassiel's face contorted with effort, his palm glowing brighter against Cade's chest. “I can't rebuild what Zeryth created. Their magic is... different than mine. But I might be able to reinforce it. Temporarily.”
A surge of power flowed from the angel into Cade, visible as a wave of golden light that mixed with the blue-white of Cade's soul. For a moment, the two energies seemed to war with each other, clashing and recoiling like oil and water.
Then, suddenly, everything stopped. The light receded, sinking beneath Cade's skin until only a faint glow remained, pulsing once, twice, then fading entirely. His body went limp in my arms, all tension draining away as his head lolled against my shoulder.
“Cade?” I whispered, fear making my voice break. He was so still, so pale. “Is he...” I couldn't finish the question, terror gripping my throat.
Cassiel pressed two fingers to Cade's neck, then nodded. “He's alright,” the angel said softly. “Just sleeping.”
I let out a shuddering breath, relief washing over me so intensely it made me dizzy. My arms tightened around Cade, pulling him closer, afraid that if I loosened my grip even slightly, he might slip away again.
“His soul?” I asked, voice hoarse from yelling.
“Successfully reintegrated,” Cassiel confirmed. “Though not as smoothly as it should have been. The wall is still there, but fragile. When he wakes...” The angel hesitated. “He may remember more than is comfortable.”
“But he'll be himself?” I pressed. “Completely?”
Cassiel nodded. “Yes. His soul is whole and where it belongs.”
I sagged with relief, the adrenaline that had been keeping me upright beginning to ebb. Exhaustion crashed over me, making my limbs heavy and my eyes burn. “We should move him to the bed.”
Together, we carried Cade from the balcony back into the bedroom, laying him gently on the mattress. I pulled the blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders the way I'd seen him do a hundred times before. His face looked peaceful now, the lines of stress and emptiness smoothed away in sleep.
Table of Contents
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- Page 40 (Reading here)
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