"Come for me, Cadence," he urged, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Let me feel you." His words, combined with the dual stimulation of his body inside mine and his fingers against me, pushed me over the edge. I came with a cry that might have been his name, my body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed through me, washing away the darkness, if only for a moment. Logan followed almost immediately, his release triggered by the pulsing of my inner muscles. He buried his face in my neck, a groan torn from his throat as his hips jerked against mine, driving him deeper.
For a long moment, we lay entangled, our breathing gradually slowing, our heartbeats finding a synchronised rhythm. I was aware of tears still streaming down my face, but they weren't tears of pain or fear. They were tears of release, of relief, of something almost like healing. Logan lifted his head, alarm crossing his features when he saw my wet cheeks.
"Cadence, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you? Did I push too far?" I shook my head, a watery laugh escaping me.
"No, they're good tears. I promise." I reached up to touch his face, the stubble on his jaw rough against my palm. "Thank you." The tension drained from his expression, replaced by a tenderness that made my heart ache.
"Don't thank me," he said, turning to press a kiss to my palm. "Not for this. Not ever." He carefully withdrew from me, both of us wincing slightly at the separation, then gathered me into his arms, tucking me against his chest. I went willingly, craving the warmth and solidity of his body against mine.
"I love you," Logan whispered against my hair, so softly I almost didn't hear it. "I know I have no right to say that, not after everything I've done. But I do. I love you, Cadence Turner." Fresh tears welled in my eyes at his confession. I didn't know if I could say those words back to him, not yet, not with everything still so raw and unresolved between us. But I felt something for him, something complex and powerful that went beyond hate, fear, or even desire.
"I know," I said instead, nestling closer to him. "I know, Logan." He tightened his arms around me, as if afraid I might disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly. We lay like that for a long time, our breathing synced, our bodies cooling in the dim light of my bedroom.
For the first time in weeks, I felt a sense of peace. Not happiness, exactly, there was still too much pain, too much trauma for that. But a quiet, a stillness inside me that had been absent since my abduction. In Logan's arms, I wasn't the girl from the video, the damaged victim, the object of pity or morbid curiosity. I was just Cade, a woman who had survived, who was still capable of pleasure and connection despite everything that had been done to her.
As I drifted toward sleep, Logan's heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath my ear, I realised that forgetting wasn't about erasing what had happened to me. It was about finding moments, however brief, where the past didn't define me. Where I could exist in the present, feel something good, and believe, if only for a little while, that healing was possible. In Logan's arms, for the first time since my rescue, I felt something like hope.
The night air bit at my face as Cole and I trudged up the path to Covenant House. Dawn was just a suggestion on the horizon, the sky that murky blue-black that comes before the first real light. My body ached with exhaustion, but my mind raced with furious energy, replaying our fruitless confrontation with Williams over and over.
"That smug, spineless bastard," I muttered, fumbling with my keys. "Did you see his face when I threatened to represent Megan? Like it was some kind of fucking joke." Cole sighed behind me, his breath forming a cloud in the cold morning air.
"Williams has always been a puppet. We shouldn't be surprised."
"He's going to let Julia get away with it. After what she did to Cade." My hand shook with rage as I tried to fit the key into the lock. "She showed her the fucking videos, Cole. She broke her all over again."
"I know," Cole said quietly, reaching past me to steady my hand and guide the key home. "But we'll handle it. We always do."
The door swung open, and we stepped into the silent foyer of Covenant House. The contrast between the cold outside and the warm interior should have been comforting, but nothing could soothe the restless fury churning inside me. We'd spent half the night arguing with Headmaster Williams, who'd sat behind his desk with that infuriating half-smile, like we were children throwing a tantrum.
"Julia Latters has suffered enough," I said, mimicking Williams's pompous tone as I shrugged off my coat. "A broken nose and some cracked ribs are hardly proportionate to showing videos of sexual assault to their victim. Megan should not be the one facing disciplinary action." Cole closed the door softly behind us, his eyes weary.
"At least Melody took matters into her own hands. Julia won't be welcome at Courts House again."
I laughed bitterly, remembering how we'd stormed Courts House earlier that night, only to find Julia already gone. Melody had explained how Silvia had sent Julia running with a single, well-placed threat: that I was coming to finish what I'd startedmonths ago. The memory should have pleased me, but it didn't. It wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough after what Julia had done to Cade.
"We should have been able to reach Killingham," I said, pacing the foyer, unable to stand still despite my exhaustion.
"Why the fuck is he in New Mexico when we need him here?"
"They think they're close to one of Damien’s associates," Cole reminded me, his voice low. "Sebastian wouldn't be there if they weren't." The mention of Damien's name sent a fresh surge of rage through me. I'd killed David Marshall for his part in Cade's abduction, but Damien, the true architect of her suffering, was still out there. Still breathing. Still a threat.
"I should be there," I said, running a hand through my hair. "I should be hunting him down. I should be the one to end him."
"Ryder," Cole's voice took on that tone he used when he thought I was spiralling. "You need to rest. We all do. We're no good to Cade if we're falling apart."
I knew he was right, but the thought of sleep seemed impossible. How could I rest when the videos of Cade's torture were still circulating? When Julia was getting away with showing them to her? When Damien was still alive somewhere, perhaps watching those same videos and laughing?
"I'm going to check on her," I said, already moving toward the stairs. "Just to make sure she's okay." Cole followed silently, understanding my need without question. We moved through the darkened house with practiced ease, our footsteps barely audible on the thick carpet. When we reached Cade's door, I hesitated, my hand on the knob. What if she was awake? What if she was crying, reliving the horror of seeing those videos? What if she needed us and we'd been gone, chasing bureaucratic justice that would never come?
I pushed the door open gently, peering into the darkness of her room.
The sight that greeted us made my breath catch: Logan and Cade, tangled together in sleep, her purple hair splayed across his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around her. They were both clearly naked beneath the sheets, the evidence of their intimacy obvious in the discarded clothing on the floor and the peaceful exhaustion on their faces. I waited for the jealousy to hit me, that possessive rage that had consumed me so many times before when I thought of Cade with someone else. But it didn't come. Instead, I felt a strange warmth spread through my chest, a sense of rightness that I couldn't quite explain. Cole gently pulled the door closed again, and we retreated a few steps down the hall.
"She chose him," I said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth despite my exhaustion. "After everything, she chose to be with him."
"She's healing," Cole agreed, his own relief evident in the relaxation of his shoulders. "This is good, Ryder. This is progress." And it was. Cade, who had been so broken, so traumatised that she flinched at the slightest unexpected touch, had willingly, deliberately sought comfort in physical intimacy, not just with anyone, but with Logan, the most complicated of her relationships, the one who had kept his distance since her rescue, consumed by his own guilt.
"We should let them sleep," I said, suddenly feeling lighter than I had in weeks. "But I want to do something for them. For her."
