Page 73 of Pulse Zero
“I’ve got this.”
Again, it comes out too fast, a little too sharp.
No one fucking touches him but me.
“Of course, boss.”
I really should be more careful because Sebastian is the one person in this world who knows me best. He’s seen me at my worst, seen the things this war has turned me into. If anyone could read the truth in my face, it would be him.
I could tell him about my true history with Cason, but then Sebastian might start wondering if I have what it takes to do what needs to be done. He might realize there’s more tangled up in this than revenge.
Seven years ago feels like a lifetime and a heartbeat at the same time. The betrayal I feel now burns hotter than anything I felt back then.
But if that changes…
If it’s not entirely true and just something I’m trying to convince myself of…
I don’t want to regret what I have to do.
But sometimes, we don’t get the luxury to choose what wewantto do over what weneedto do.
I drain the rest of my coffee and set the mug in the sink. I give Sebastian one last nod before turning toward the hallway leading downstairs. The basement lights are still on, and my shadows stretch ahead of me as I descend the steps, sliding along the walls like they know exactly where we’re going. Like they’re eager to get to him…
Opening the reinforced door at the end of the hall, I step inside. It’s not as nice of a basement as the last time I captured Cason, but my time and resources have had other priorities.
I close the door behind me and lean my back against it for a moment, staring at the man lying on the floor across the room.
Cason fucking Bellrose.
The last time we shared space together, he was just a smart-mouthed college kid with a reckless streak and a challenge in hiseyes every time he looked at me. Malcolm Bellrose’s nephew. My prisoner. My responsibility.
And who ended up being my greatest weakness.
I still remember learning everything I could about him. Taking him from that parking garage. The first time I had to drag him back into his cell after he foolishly attempted to escape. The way he fought even when he knew he couldn’t win, like maybe he didn’twantto win. The way he kept mouthing off like snark was a weapon.
Little menace.
I told myself the nickname was just a joke, something harmless. But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling harmless.
And now he’s here again.
Different room. Different war. Yet the same impossible pull in my chest that I’ve spent seven years pretending doesn’t exist.
Duty says he’s the enemy.
Desire says something else entirely.
My shadows curl tighter around my feet as I lock the door. The room smells like dust and concrete. Cason is exactly where I left him, sprawled on the floor where he collapsed under the weight of my shadows.
Seven years.
Seven years of getting only glimpses of his world while I burned mine down around me. Seven years of pretending he didn’t still live under my skin.
Pushing myself off the door, I cross the room and kneel beside him. Up close, he looks exactly the same and completely different all at once. Older, sharper around the edges. Green hair, which I surprisingly don’t hate. It fits him. But he has the same stubborn line of his mouth, like he’s arguing with the universe even while unconscious.
My shadows ripple softly across the ceiling as though theywant to touch him as badly as I do.
I shouldn’t.
