Chapter 13: The Sound of Sand and Steel
The cellar under the bait shop was colder, darker, and a hundred times more terrifying than any place I'd ever been. It smelled like damp earth and desperation. Seraphina was there, leaning against a rough-hewn table, cleaning a wicked-looking knife with slow, deliberate strokes. Maisie was curled up on a dusty blanket in the corner, clutching Pinky and watching Seraphina with wide, mesmerized eyes.
"Mommy, she's like a pirate," Maisie whispered, her voice barely a breath.
I forced a smile, even though my insides felt like a knot. "Yeah, baby. A very good pirate."
Seraphina glanced up, her dark eyes glittering in the dim light of the single bare bulb. "He'll be fine, Amara. Caden always is."
"He's not a machine, Seraphina. He's a man. And he's walking into a fight alone for us." My voice cracked on the last word.
She shrugged, testing the edge of her blade with a calloused thumb. "He always walks into fights alone. That's Caden's protocol. And he always wins. Don't worry about his heart; worry about your own. It's too fragile for this world."
Her words stung. They felt like a truth Caden had tried to tell me for weeks. That I was too soft, too loud, too human for his dangerous existence. But after last night, after that kiss, I knew different. He wasn't some untouchable ghost anymore. He was flesh and blood, and he was out there, fighting for us.
Hours crawled by. Every gust of wind rattling the cellar door sounded like footsteps. Every distant clang felt like a gunshot. I paced the small space, my mind replaying Caden's face, his words, the feel of his hands on me. He said he'd be back by midnight. Midnight was still hours away.
Maisie, surprisingly, fell asleep. The gentle rhythm of Seraphina's knife-cleaning, combined with the quiet hum of an old generator, seemed to soothe her. But I couldn't rest. My nerves were strung tighter than a guitar string.
"He'll be here," Seraphina said, her voice softer than I expected. She must have seen the panic in my eyes. "He made you a promise. Caden doesn't break those."
"What about you, Seraphina?" I asked, looking at her. "What was your promise to him? What did you two have?"
She stopped cleaning her knife, her eyes distant, as if she was looking at a ghost. "We had a mission. A long time ago. He saved my life, and I saved his. It's a different kind of bond, Amara. One you wouldn't understand."
"Try me," I challenged.
She sighed, a weary sound. "Caden came to me after he lost everything. His family, his team... his heart. He built his fortress, literally and figuratively, to keep anyone from ever getting close enough to hurt him again. I just helped him build the walls. You… you walked right through them." She looked at me, a strange mix of respect and something like pity in her gaze. "He's not easy. But he's good. And he's yours, if you're brave enough to keep him."
Her words were a stark mirror of my own thoughts. Brave enough. Was I? Was I brave enough to build a life with a man who operated on protocols, who had a past steeped in violence, and who could disappear as easily as he appeared?
The hours kept ticking. The single bulb above us flickered, throwing long shadows that danced like monsters on the walls. Maisie stirred in her sleep, whimpering softly. I went to her, pulling the blanket tighter around her small frame.
It was almost midnight when we heard it.
A distant BOOM. It wasn't thunder. It was the heavy, sickening sound of an explosion. The ground under our feet vibrated, and dust sifted down from the wooden ceiling. Maisie woke up with a terrified cry.
"Mommy! What was that?"
Seraphina didn't flinch. She just stood up, her knife now tucked securely into a sheath at her hip. She walked over to the heavy cellar door and listened, her head cocked to one side. Then, a series of quick, sharp CRACKS echoed from outside—gunshots. Not one or two, but a whole barrage.
My heart was in my throat. I grabbed Maisie, pulling her close, burying her face in my shoulder. "It's okay, baby. It's okay. Caden's got it." I kept repeating it, not just for her, but for myself.
The sound of the battle raged for what felt like an eternity. More shots, more distant thuds, the occasional roar of a vehicle engine. Then, as suddenly as it began, it faded into a tense, ringing silence.
Seraphina looked at the old grandfather clock in the corner. It read exactly midnight.
She looked at me, her eyes unreadable. "He's late."
My blood ran cold.