Chapter 4: The Pink Protocol
My head felt like it had been stuffed with wet cotton. When I finally dragged my eyes open, the first thing I noticed wasn't the fancy ceiling or the expensive smell of the room. It was the silence. The heavy, sterile silence of Caden's house.
I reached out, expecting to feel Maisie's warm little foot or a stray toy, but the bed was empty.
"Maisie?" I croaked. My throat was still a wreck, but the fire in my blood had cooled down to a simmer.
I sat up too fast, and the world did a dizzy little spin. That's when I saw it. On the nightstand, right next to a fresh glass of water and a blister pack of pills, was a scrap of paper. The handwriting was sharp, precise, and looked like it had been drafted by a computer.
Took the child for supplies. Take the pills. Do not get out of bed. - C.
"The child?" I whispered, a dry laugh bubbling up in my chest. "He really is a robot."
But as I looked at the note, my chest did this weird, fluttering thing. He'd taken her. He didn't leave her with a sitter or lock us in. He'd taken a five-year-old—a "high-vibration" chaotic five-year-old—to a public place. I tried to imagine Caden, the man who probably treats grocery shopping like a tactical insertion, navigating an aisle with Maisie.
I took the pills and waited. Twenty minutes later, I heard the heavy thud of the front door.
I ignored the rule about staying in bed. I wrapped the oversized robe around me, cinching the belt tight, and crept to the top of the stairs.
Down in the kitchen, the scene was... ridiculous.
Caden was standing there, still in his tactical-looking gear, holding a massive, fluffier-than-life pink unicorn by its horn like it was a captured enemy combatant. Maisie was bouncing around his legs, chirping about something called "Pinky."
"The unicorn is secured, Maisie. Sit down," Caden said. His voice was flat, but he didn't move away when she hugged his knee.
"Did you get the book? The pink one?"
He reached into a bag and pulled out a storybook. He looked at it with an expression of pure confusion, like he was trying to figure out how the physics of a fairy tale worked. "The narrative seems scientifically inaccurate, but yes. I have the book."
I leaned against the railing, watching them. My heart gave a traitorous little squeeze. I knew he was cold. I knew he was rude. But seeing those huge, scarred hands holding a glittery unicorn just so my daughter wouldn't be scared? It did something to me. It was a stupid, dangerous feeling—a little spark of something warm that I had no business feeling for a man who viewed me as a "variable."
I cleared my throat, and Caden's head snapped up instantly. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a split second, the "robot" mask wavered. His gaze traveled over my face, checking my color, measuring my recovery in a way that felt way too intimate.
"You broke Rule Four," he said, his voice dropping back into that low rumble. "You're out of bed."
"I'm a mother, Caden. My 'protection protocol' doesn't have an off switch when my kid is missing," I said, stepping down the stairs.
"Mommy! Look! Caden got me Pinky! And he said the supermarket was a 'low-threat environment'!"
I looked at Caden. "A low-threat environment? Really?"
He didn't flinch. He just set the unicorn on the counter. "The perimeter was clear. The child required sustenance and... psychological reinforcement."
"It's a teddy bear, Caden. You can call it a teddy bear."
"It's a unicorn," he corrected, his jaw tightening. "Eat. I bought actual food. Not the processed garbage you likely favor."
He walked past me to put the milk away, and as he did, his shoulder brushed mine. I felt a jolt of heat so sharp it made my toes curl. I smelled the cedarwood and the faint scent of the rain outside, and for a terrifying moment, I wanted to reach out and touch the scarred skin of his arm.
Get it together, Amara, I told myself. He's a machine. A beautiful, terrifying machine.
"Thank you," I said softly.
He paused, his hand on the fridge door. He didn't look back. "Don't thank me. It was a logistical necessity. A crying child is a noise violation."
He was such a jerk. But as I watched him awkwardly hand Maisie a juice box, I realized the "glitch" wasn't just in his system. It was in mine, too. Because I was definitely, 100%, starting to develop feelings for the most heartless man in the city.