Chapter 42: His to Break
411 Words
Chapter 42: His to Break
(And he always did it beautifully)
Cade hadn’t slept.
He’d stared at the skyline all night, fists clenched, heart pacing like a caged animal inside his chest. The city pulsed with light—but it couldn’t distract him from her.
From the way Aria had pulled away.
From the way she hadn’t answered his last message.
From the sick, gnawing certainty in his gut that she hadn’t been alone last night.
And when the sun bled through his windows—he broke.
He stormed into his office like a man possessed, slammed the door, and barked at his assistant to cancel everything. His world didn’t matter today.
Only she did.
Within an hour, he was outside her apartment door.
He didn’t knock.
He walked in.
And what he saw wrecked him.
Aria was standing in the living room, wrapped in nothing but a man’s oversized shirt—Damon’s shirt. Her hair was wild, lips swollen, skin flushed in a way Cade had never seen before.
His blood turned to ice.
She froze. “Cade—”
He stepped forward, eyes dark with something beyond fury. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.
“Tell me he wasn’t here.” His voice cracked. “Tell me he didn’t touch you.”
She looked away.
That was enough.
He stalked toward her, voice rising. “So that’s it? After everything—after us—you run to him the second things get hard?”
“It’s not like that—”
“Then what is it, Aria?” His hands curled into fists. “Because I’ve been here. I’ve fought for you. And he—he takes what he wants and leaves you shattered!”
Her eyes flashed. “You think I don’t know that?!”
Silence fell like a hammer.
Tears burned down her cheeks. “I know what Damon is. I know he’s dangerous. But so are you, Cade. Just in a different suit.”
He flinched.
Her voice broke. “You say you love me—but love doesn’t come with leashes and ultimatums.”
He stepped back, pain flickering behind his eyes. “Then what does it come with, Aria? Lies? Secrets? Another man’s shirt on your body?”
She didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Because the worst part was—she didn’t know anymore.
Not who she loved.
Not who she was.
She was just… caught. Between fire and fire.
- Writer
