“We heard you saved Caden’s ass during the ambush at Slava,” Rocco said, leaning forward slightly, as if seeking confirmation of a rumor.
“I did,” I replied, hoping he had kept his promise about my secret and had only referred to my awesome fighting skills. “Kicked those Radical’s asses, while your boy had trouble staying on his damn feet.”
“Even after what happened at Coastal, you still had his back?” Emile asked, his brows lifting in disbelief.
I frowned, surprised they’d even doubt it. “He’s more than just the sum of his mistakes,” I said, my tone firmer than I intended.
They exchanged glances, as if silently communicating something, before Kate spoke up, her soft voice a little hesitant. “We were told our future—and that of our children—hung in the balance. We did what we thought would protect them. The night before your first abduction attempt, a Specialist came to talk to us…”
“Stephen,” I interrupted, realizing who they were referring to.
“Yes, Stephen,” Kate confirmed. “He explained how untraceable translation was our only chance of survival and how one person in the whole world possessed this specific ‘talent.’”
“Okay…” I said slowly, trying to keep up with where they were heading.
“We wanted to say, regarding what happened at Coastal…” Rocco began, his head dipping slightly, a rare edge of humility in his posture.
“I get it,” I cut him off, gently. “You don’t have to explain.”
They exchanged relieved smiles, their expressions softening, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from their shoulders.
“We heard you were tired,” Emile said, “and we don’t want to push. But we’re having dinner together, the whole family, and we’d be honored if you’d join us.”
I swallowed hard. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear those words until now.
I nodded, a genuine smile forming on my lips. “Yeah, I’d love to.”
Their smiles widened, a sense of relief and gratitude in their eyes.
“Give me ten minutes to wash up, and I’ll meet you downstairs,” I said.
They nodded and left, leaving me alone. As I closed the door behind them, I felt a wave of unexpected warmth, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt genuinely good about myself.
THIRTY-FOUR
CADEN
The weeks after Slava blurred into a non-stop grind of missions into the Human World, chasing down scraps of intel on the Amplifier, and poking around Radical camps like we had a death wish. Meanwhile, my team got saddled with diplomatic assignments—negotiating with other Collectives, securing access to their grounds, and generally pretending we had patience for bureaucracy.
And somewhere in the middle of all the chaos, I realized something had shifted between Emma and me.
At first, it was subtle—a growing ease, a mutual understanding that didn’t require words. Then, at some point, I had the alarming realization I actually trusted her.
Slava had changed everything. Not only because she’d saved my life—which, sure, earned her some points—but because she’d proven herself. Sharp instincts, quick thinking, an absurd level of resilience.
The moment she’d confided in me—told me something she hadn’t shared with anyone else—it solidified something betweenus. Trust. A bond I hadn’t expected, hadn’t even been looking for.
After that, having her around simply made sense.
Of course, it didn’t mean it wasn’t a fucking challenge. Because beneath all the trust and effortless teamwork, I was dealing with something far more aggravating—a physical attraction I had no business feeling. One I had to shove down, bury deep in the most unyielding part of my soul.
The way my body reacted to hers wasinfuriating. A careless touch, a moment too close, and heat would lance through me like a live wire, piercing and unwelcome. It was primal, visceral—but it sure as hell wasn’t something I could entertain.
Still, we worked together like we’d been doing it for years instead of weeks. An unspoken language. A glance across the battlefield, the barest flicker of movement, and she knew exactly what I needed before I even had to ask. No fumbling. No over-explaining. Just instinct.
Same went for strategizing in the command room. We weren’t finishing each other’s sentences or anything, but she needed less context than some of my team members—people I’d been working with for cycles—to get where I was going.
And fuck if that didn’t make things harder.
