JUDE

"Caden's been shot," he informed me.

"The incident occurred where Kane Esteban and his daughter resided, but it's owned by the Chandlers, the acting governor of California," Shawn explained.

Do I fucking  care who the hell that cursed family hides behind—governor or president?

No!

They could seek refuge next to the king if the country were a kingdom.

I'll tear Kane into a million pieces, even if it means a lifetime in jail.

I wouldn't mind.

I have nothing to lose.

That man robbed me of family, love, and happiness eight years ago—taking my daughter, driving my wife to madness, and almost killing our son.

In his recklessness, I lost everything.

Now he returns to take the last piece I have left—my dear son, who never had my love and care.

Not now, not ever! I won't let it happen. Caden is a survivor; he'll live. And count Shawn dead for the delayed news.

I can't believe I've been paying him and his team to watch over my children, only to learn about an incident a year later.

My son was in jail for attempted murder because of Kane and his fucked up mistake.

Damn!

Why did I blame Caden for his sister's death? Why did I punish him and let him believe he was accountable?

He shouldn't feel the need to avenge.

He's just a kid trying to struggle and stand like a man.

He shouldn't have to act above his age or have anyone's blood on his hands.

It was all me—I planted the seed of anger and guilt in him.

Jen will be disappointed in me for losing control, for destroying our child's life, for traumatizing him.

Maybe that's why she left. Perhaps she saw the shadow of my harm when I was lost and blinded by the truth, needing her, not caring for our son's survival, not caring I was affecting him.

Unsteadily, heart throbbing, hands trembling, I dial my son's number.

Please, pick up. Let this be a dream, a prank. Anything.

I can't lose him.

If he picks up and tells me he's alright, no bullet in his body, I promise to admit my guilt, apologize for everything, and love him more than life. "Hello, is this Caden Thaddeus's father?" a woman asks.

Having heard a voice that wasn't my son's, I felt a sharp blade from my throat down to my chest.

My mouth suddenly dry, tasting the smell of blood in my lungs.

I know my son. He hooks up with different women, elders, and youth. But no one ever picks his phone.

This means he was really shot.

"Yes. How's he?" I croaked, struggling to breathe.

"He lost a lot of blood; he's in the theater."

My poor son. I did this to him.

"I'm on my way, getting on a flight. Take my blood, keep him alive. Just ensure he's alive, please," I implore.

"We'll do our best," she promises, giving me the hospital address.

Wiping away tears, I call Maddie to make sure she's okay, and also to get more details about Caden's situation.

But from how she sounded, she was just finding out the news from me.

To lessen the tension, I avoided phone calls, deciding to text Martha about Caden's condition.

She earned the right to know.

She loves him, even when I misbehave. She has always loved him.

That's the difference between Martha and Jen; she didn't choose me over my son. She defended him when I couldn't.

After the longest and most terrifying hours, the plane finally lands. I waste no time speaking with the man who brought the car I rented.

I paste the directions the woman who picked Caden's phone gave me and accelerate.

I feel fatigue and breakdown surging through every ounce of me, but the desperation to reach the goddamn hospital is ahead of all emotions I have right now.

When I arrive, I sprint through the reception and stop at a desk. Breathing heavily, I urge, "I'm Caden Thaddeus's father; I want to see my son."

"The operation is ongoing," a young woman behind the desk says.

"I was told the same thing over six hours ago," I bark, unable to restrain my emotions.

"Sir, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down," I snap, slamming the desk. "I have a son in the operating theater between life and death for six hours. I need answers."

"He will be okay," the woman announces.

"Bullshit, I need to hear that from a doctor," I hiss.

My outburst attracts attention, but I don't fucking care.

Nurses inform me, "The doctors will be out as soon as the operation is performed."

"Fucking shit!" I thunder, shaking my head.

Frustratedly shoving my fingers through my full hair, I spin, retreating from the nurses.

That's when my eyes find someone unbelievably standing in the reception.

How dare he!

"You..." I growled, a frenzied look in my eyes as I furiously strode towards him. "You dare come." I seized Kane by his collar and forcibly shoved him backward.

He stumbled, lost balance, and fell on the tiled floor.

Murmurs echoed everywhere. Someone called security, but I dared them to come. I was ready to take down anyone.

Blackened vision overcame me as I knelt and straddled his chest.

"It's not what it looks like..." He began just as my fists collided with his face.

He should've thought of this before following Caden here.

"You killed one, and now you're on the hunt for the last?" I fiercely hit the man with all the emotion that had lived in me for eight years.

This was the moment I'd been waiting for, to unleash on him what I'd felt for years because of him.

"Jude!" A female voice cried out.

"You still followed so you could kill him if he makes it out." I glowered at the man bleeding beneath me.

"JUDE!" Kane pleaded.

But he didn't get to talk.

He had taken too much from me.

I might have hated my species from day one, but he was the reason my relationship with Caden was what it is today. Worst!

"I will destroy you for this. No one touches my son. You don't touch my son." I rumbled.

"Dad... Dad!" A young girl, who wasn't Maddie, cried, falling over to the floor with wet and pleading eyes.

She must be the child Shawn had talked about.

"Stop..." Someone grabbed me from behind, pulling me away from the almost unconscious Kane.

On my feet, I shoved the young man and advanced to Kane again.

But a hand came to my chest, stopping me. "He didn't. Okay?" The boy said, anxiously.

He was of Caden's age, tall, with remarkably green eyes and a perfectly defined jawline. "He didn't pull the trigger." The boy retorted. His head shook. "The man who did is in jail. Kane didn't pull the trigger."

In those intense leafy and youthful eyes, I found honesty.

Furious, pained, regretful, sad, guilty, hateful, and loving.

I felt all those emotions when I punched the concrete wall and felt no pain at all.

I messed up. Son, I really messed up.

MADISON

My eyelids slowly opened, meeting Mom smiling down at me. "Hello, love. You are awake," she whispered, her hand brushing through my hair.

At first, I pouted, then the tears came.

"Mom!" I sobbed, propping up into her arms.

She was exactly what I needed. Because God knows I cannot do this alone.

"Is okay, I am here," she said in my hair.

I pulled away, craving answers, for it looks like I've been blank for hours after getting the news.

"Where is he? Is he okay?" I rushed, sitting up on the hospital bed.

A frown suddenly plastered on her face as she started, "Maddie..."

She better not tell me the opposite; she should know I can't take anything that's not what I needed to hear.

"Don't tell me I lost him..." I sniveled, grabbing her hand. "Mom, I can't lose him. I can't."

"Hey?" Her hand slipped from mine and cupped my wet cheeks; her eyes widened, looking worried. She must be. Mom had always hated seeing me this way. "He had an operation; the bullet was taken out. He is in the ICU." She told me.

"He is breathing? Honestly?" I scrutinized, sniffing loudly.

"He is breathing," she assured, nodding. "With a little help of oxygen, but the doctors are positive he wouldn't need them in the next twenty-four hours, and now we're three hours in." There were creases on her forehead, her eyes were swollen; she must've been crying.

"Oh, God." I choked on my breath from the information.

He's on life support? He can't breathe?

"It's okay, my dear..." Mom murmurs, gently holding my arms as I climb off the bed. "It's going to be okay, Mad. Just give it some time."

Time? She can't be serious.

I shrugged her off and headed for the door. "I need to see him." I grabbed my jacket from the chair.

"You need to rest; you had too much through the little interval." Mom complained. "You've been unconscious."

I stopped and turned to her, rubbing my temple with my hand.

I felt the heaviness in my eyes and the burn behind them. The excruciating headache and vulnerability of my bones.

Despairingly, my hands waved around us. "I can't rest; I can't stretch if I didn't see him! I can ingest anything but not losing him. I won't survive, I swear." I bit on my lower lip, pressing my eyes shut for a moment to catch my breath. "Look, I am fucking attached. I married him." I held up my tattoo.

Mom breathes out, her lips parted. "Oh, Madison Heather Thaddeus." She mumbled after a long silence.

I didn't recall much from the hallways, but I saw faces I could identify.

Madison was leaning on Paxton's shoulder. Asher squatting on his knees, his head in his hands, he didn't notice me. Daisy and Kane Esteban leaning against a wall, staring at me.

And then there was mighty Kaiser Chandler, present too, pacing back and forth around the hall.

I took slow and cautious steps before I noticed who was stilled, inclined to the wall.

Jude! the man I hated more than anything in this world.

Why is he here? Didn't he wish for this?

Is he here to laugh in my face and tell me I-told-you-so?

Well, congratulations, Jude, you won.

If I wasn't completely immobilized, I'd be kicking his ass out of here.

But the more I step closer, the more I begin to comprehend the situation.

He was fused to a glass wall, his palms and forehead were pressed against the glass. His face flushed, he had under-eye bags and freshly split knuckles.

Then again, if I wasn't fussed about my husband's health, I'd be worrying why Kane has a busted face and Jude has torn knuckles.

Two steps were enough to reveal what Jude has in front of him.

Caden!

Oh my God!

My hands instinctively came over my mouth as I drew in a sharp breath and exhaled a sob.

I've never seen Caden this way!

For the first time, he was laying helplessly and frail. So young, so lifeless.

Yet he looks flawless and peaceful with his eyes closed and probably stitches to his stomach.

He had a couple of IV fluids connected to his veins. An oxygen mask over his face, and he was dressed in a hospital gown.

From here I could read the monitor. I could see his heart rate. The amount of oxygen his blood was consuming. His breathing rate. His blood pressure. His body temperature and the pressure in his brain.

He was in pain!

"He is pure and I messed him," Dad whispered, his voice hoarse, as if he had been crying.

But that doesn't matter because seeing Caden like that awoke every fear I ever had.

Mom was right; I had too much in such a little interval.

I felt my legs losing the capacity to hold me up. They gave in and let me fall, but Dad and Mom didn't let me hit the ground.

They held me in their arms and let me cry the whole night.