Protected by Artemis (Gods and Beasts #3)

11. Cade

Chapter 11

Cade

C ade stood in front of the window, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, but he wasn’t really seeing anything. The kids playing in the field or the barn being rebuilt in the distance—all of it blurred into the background, irrelevant compared to the storm in his mind.

He was trying to convince himself that breaking up with Artemis was the right decision, that it was necessary.

It had to be.

She was a goddess, and he was just a wolf shifter. Their worlds weren’t meant to collide like this, not in any lasting way. His jaw clenched at the thought of how close they’d gotten, how natural it had felt when they were together. But that was exactly why he had to end it—before things spiraled out of control.

His wolf stirred restlessly inside him, and he took a deep breath, trying to push the feeling down. The memory of her face lingered in his mind, her eyes wide with shock, then hurt, when he’d told her it was over. The way she had stood there, frozen for a moment before pulling herself together, like she hadn’t wanted him to see just how much his words had cut her.

He shook his head, trying to clear the image. She would be fine. She was strong and independent. She didn’t need him, and he couldn’t let himself get attached to someone who could disappear from his life just as easily as she’d entered it. He’d been through that before—with Eleni. He couldn’t go through it again.

But despite his reasoning, something still felt wrong. His wolf was agitated, pacing in his mind, and no matter how many times he told himself he’d done the right thing, the ache in his chest refused to fade, and the pit in his stomach grew with each passing day.

He swallowed hard, his throat tight, and forced his gaze back to the window. The world outside was carrying on as usual, as if nothing had changed. But inside him, everything had.

The silence of the office was suffocating, his thoughts louder than any sound. He slammed a fist against the window frame, frustration boiling over. “It was the right thing to do,” he muttered to himself, but even as the words left his lips, they felt hollow.

The longer he stood there, the more he realized it wasn’t just his wolf that was restless. It was him. She had made him feel things he hadn’t let himself feel in years. She’d broken through walls he didn’t even know were still up.

His reflection caught his eye, and for a fleeting moment, he saw his eyes glowing faintly. His wolf was still thinking about her, still wanting her.

And, if he was being honest with himself, so was he.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. But he ignored it and kept staring out the window, trying to center himself. The knock came again, more insistent this time.

“Come in,” he finally said.

The pack member, a young man named Finn, shifted nervously on his feet as he entered. “Alpha, about the barn demolition…we need to decide if we’re going to recycle the wood or?—”

“I shouldn’t have to think about this!” Cade snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache that was already building. “Just handle it.”

Finn jumped at the harsh tone, eyes wide with surprise. “O-okay, Alpha. I’ll figure it out,” he stammered, stepping back quickly.

He glared at the retreating man, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He watched as Finn hurried out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. The sound seemed to echo in the silence that followed.

As the anger ebbed, guilt began to creep in. He knew he was out of line. Finn didn’t deserve to be the target of his stress, but the weight of everything was getting to him. He just couldn’t deal with every little detail right now.

The pack member’s simple question had triggered an unexpected surge of frustration, and now he was left with the aftermath of his sharp words. He clenched his jaw, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, and turned to the window again. That outburst was more about his own stress than the question itself. But right now, he didn’t care. He just wanted some space, some quiet.

The familiar scene only reminded him of the weight of his responsibilities, of the expectations that felt like they were crushing him. He’d always prided himself on being a strong leader who could handle anything thrown his way. But now, with everything piling up—the fire, the investigation, the pressure to keep his pack safe—he could feel himself fraying at the edges.

A couple of kids noticed him and ran over to wave at him. He sucked in a breath before nodding back at them. They smiled and got back to their roughhousing, their laughter and chatter a distant hum in his ears. The sight should have comforted him, but instead, a pang of hurt laced his chest.

The memory of the look on her face when he ended things haunted him. The hurt in her eyes was something he couldn’t shake, a raw, vulnerable moment that felt like it had carved itself into his very soul.

He tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to him, persistent and unrelenting. He could almost see her standing there, her heart breaking in front of him, and he wished more than anything that he could turn back time. He wanted to unsee that look, to undo the words that had shattered whatever they had between them.

Why did he freak out about seeing his eyes glow when he thought of her? It was a good thing that his wolf liked her. It meant they were in sync and that she was right for him in a way he couldn’t deny. He should have embraced it, but instead, he’d let fear take over.

It was a good thing, he kept telling himself as if trying to convince the part of him that had panicked.

The truth was, he liked her. More than liked her. She was everything he admired—strong, loyal, and unyielding in her convictions. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it, cutting through life with a confidence that left him in awe. And after all the centuries she’d lived, she decided she wanted him. She wanted to be with him, and he had thrown that away because his wolf had confirmed what he already knew.

He closed his eyes, the image of her heartbreak still vivid in his mind. He’d messed up and pushed her away when he should have pulled her closer. The thought of her choosing him, out of all the possibilities in her endless life, was overwhelming.

He knew he needed to make things right, to find a way to show her that he wasn’t afraid anymore.

Cade stared at his phone, the screen glowing back at him in the dim light of his office—still nothing. No reply. He had lost count of how many times he had tried to call or text her in the past month—each message more desperate than the last. But her only response had been silence.

His thumb hovered over the screen, scrolling through the string of texts he had sent, each one more heartbreaking to reread than the last.

“I’m sorry.”

“Please, Artemis, talk to me.”

“I messed up. Can we fix this?”

“I’m going crazy. Why won’t you answer me?”

His latest message, sent just an hour ago, remained unread. His frustration boiled over, and he slammed his phone on the desk, pushing away from the chair with a frustrated growl. He paced back and forth, the weight of her absence like a boulder pressing down on his chest.

How many times had he relived that moment? Her confused expression when he pulled away, the pain in her eyes when he uttered those words. He thought he was doing what was best for both of them. But all he had done was destroy the one good thing in his life.

And now she was gone, completely iced him out.

He ran his hands through his hair, his chest heaving with anger and regret. Why had he let his fear control him? Why hadn’t he told her the truth about how he felt, instead of pushing her away?

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, kicking the chair aside.

His wolf was restless, pacing inside of him, snarling at the distance between them. It wasn’t like he could go to her since she was in fucking Olympus. Cade couldn’t stand it anymore. The silence. The emptiness. He needed her.

He grabbed his phone again, heart pounding, and typed another message. “Please, Artemis. Just talk to me. One chance, that’s all I’m asking.”

He hit send and threw the phone onto the desk, knowing deep down it wouldn’t make a difference. She was gone, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

But he couldn’t stop trying. Not when the thought of losing her forever was unbearable.

The gnawing regret wouldn’t let him rest. He needed to find another way to reach her.

An idea sparked, and he quickly sat at his desk and opened his laptop. People used to pray to the Greek gods, didn’t they? It was how they communicated, how they connected with the gods. Maybe, just maybe, it could work now.

He typed rapidly, searching for the right way to do it. It was a long shot, but if there was even a chance she might hear him, he had to try. After all, she missed the connection she once had with mortals, and he was banking on that being true.

Finding a few references, he leaned closer to the screen, his mind racing. He needed the right words, the right approach. He wasn’t going to give up—not when she meant this much to him.

The soft glow of the laptop illuminated the dark room as he spent hours researching, diving into obscure texts and ancient rituals, trying to understand how people once prayed to the gods of old. He needed a way to reach her, and this was the only thing he hadn’t tried.

His eyes skimmed over a passage, something about offerings and sacred words. He leaned in closer, reading aloud to himself. “To pray to the Greek gods, one must approach with reverence, offering gifts that symbolize the deity’s domain. Create a sacred space, an altar adorned with items that represent the god or goddess. Speak your words sincerely, for the gods can see through empty gestures.”

His mind raced as he mentally cataloged what he would need. For Artemis, the huntress, he would need something that resonated with her essence. He scribbled down a list: a bow and arrow, a white pillar candle, an offering bowl for fresh water, and deer horns, symbolizing her dominion over the wild.

“Choose a quiet and still place where nature can bear witness to your plea.” He read on, the instructions unfolding like a story. “Light the candle, and place the offerings before you. Then, speak from your heart, for it is the truth that the gods hear above all else.”

He could picture it now—the forest, the soft glow of the candle flickering in the twilight, the cool breeze rustling the leaves. It felt right, as if this ancient knowledge was guiding him, pulling him toward the only path that made sense.

“When you call to the gods, do so with respect,” he continued reading, the words resonating with an ancient power. “Speak their names, invoke their presence, and ask for their favor. Be honest in your intentions, for the gods do not suffer fools or liars.”

This was his chance, his way to reach her. He had to make it count. Gathering his resolve, he shut the laptop and stood up, the quiet resolve settling over him like a second skin. He gathered the offerings he needed for the altar—the bow and arrow, candles, a bowl for water, and the deer horns.

As the night deepened, he felt a tug in his chest, an instinct pulling him toward the forest. He glanced out the window, and there it was, the moon hanging low and full, casting a silvery glow over the landscape. Artemis was connected to the moon; she drew her power from it. If he was going to reach her, this was the time.

He grabbed the items for the altar and headed out into the crisp night air. The cool breeze kissed his skin, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth, as he made his way into the woods.

The moon lit a path he followed until the trees parted, revealing a small clearing bathed in moonlight. This was the spot. He set the items down carefully, arranging them to create a small, makeshift altar. The bow and arrow lay across the deer horns, the candle stood tall in the center, and the offering bowl sat empty, waiting to be filled with fresh water from a nearby stream. It felt like something was missing, so he placed a couple more candles around the altar.

With the altar prepared, he struck a match and lit the candles, watching as the flames flickered to life, its warm glow contrasting with the moon’s cool light. He took a deep breath. This was it. He knelt before the altar, his heart racing, and began to speak.

He started quietly, his voice low and uncertain. “Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, hear me. I—” He paused, shaking his head. He couldn’t do this halfway. He had to mean it, had to let his emotions fuel the words.

“Artemis,” he started again. “Goddess of the Hunt, of the moon, and the wilds, I call to you.” The words felt strange on his tongue, ancient and powerful. He paused, feeling the forest’s silence wrap around him, urging him to continue. “I seek your presence, your guidance. I ask for your forgiveness.”

He looked up at the moon, its light washing over him, and something inside him shifted. He wasn’t just saying the words—he meant them. “I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I panicked, but that doesn’t excuse what I did. I’m asking you to hear me, to let me make things right.”

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the leaves overhead, and a shiver ran down his spine. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I can’t undo that. But I need to speak with you.”

He closed his eyes, focusing on the connection he once had with her, trying to reach out across the distance that now separated them. “Artemis,” he said again, louder this time, his voice carrying through the night. “Please, hear me. I miss you.”

The air around him seemed to hum with energy, and for a moment, everything was still. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the sounds of nature quieting as if listening. Then, he felt it—a shift in the atmosphere, a subtle change that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He opened his eyes, and there she was, standing before him.

His heart leaped at the sight of her, but he could feel the hurt emanating from her, a tangible force that made him wince. She was here, but she was wounded.

“Why have you prayed to me?” Artemis demanded, her voice calm but edged with emotion. “What game are you playing, Cade?”

He stood slowly, his heart aching as he stared at her. “No game,” he said, his voice thick with sincerity. “I needed you to hear me because you won’t answer my calls or texts. I know I messed up, and I’m not just asking for forgiveness. I need you to know how much you mean to me. How much I regret everything.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t interrupt, her gaze fixed on him, waiting for more. He took a step closer, hoping that he could finally make things right this time.

“I panicked. But it wasn’t because I didn’t want you. It was because I wanted you too much, and that scared me. You’re strong and loyal, and you chose me. After all the time you’ve been alive, you decided to be with me. I was an idiot to push you away.”

The silence stretched between them, and his heart pounded as he waited, hoping she could see the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation in his plea.

Finally, she sighed, the anger in her eyes softening but not disappearing completely. “You can’t just fix this with an apology. You hurt me deeply.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it right. Just…don’t shut me out, Artemis. Please.”

He could see the wall she had put up between them, her eyes guarded, her stance rigid. It wasn’t going to be easy to break through, but he had to try. He took a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs, and began to speak, his voice soft but steady.

“You know, when I lost my parents, it was devastating. But what kept me going was remembering their bond. They were stronger together, their connection unbreakable. Even in the hardest times, they had each other.” He paused, watching her face for any sign that his words were reaching her. “I used to think that was something worth having—something I wanted for myself.”

She crossed her arms. “Then why did you push me away? If you believe in that bond, in finding a mate, why did you end things?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I freaked out,” he admitted, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. “I wasn’t ready to accept what that meant.”

“So, you weren’t ready,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the night. “And now you are? You think a few words and a makeshift altar will fix this?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I know it’s not that simple. But I’m not here to fix everything with a prayer. I’m here because I want you to know that I’m willing to try, to work through whatever it is that scared me off in the first place.”

“You don’t just get to come back and decide you’re ready.” She looked at him, her eyes filled with a storm of emotions. “I’m not some choice you can make when it suits you.”

“I know that,” he said, taking a step closer, feeling the tension between them like a physical force. He wanted to reach out and hold her but knew that would piss her off. “But I’m standing here, asking you to give me a chance to show you I’m serious. I don’t want to lose you because of my fears.”

Her eyes flashed with anger, but beneath it, he saw the pain he had caused, the wound he had left. “I’m not sure I can trust you again,” she said, her voice wavering for the first time.

He felt his heart clench at her words, the reality of what he had done hitting him all over again. “I understand,” he said quietly. “But I’m asking you to let me earn that trust back. I don’t want to be the reason you stop believing in what we had.”

She stared at him, the silence stretching between them. “I don’t know, Cade,” she whispered. “I need time.”

For a moment, they stood there in the moonlit clearing, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air. What can I say to make her understand?

“There’s something I need to tell you, Artemis,” he watched her, her gaze unreadable, as he continued. “About why I freaked out—why I pushed you away.”

She didn’t respond, but he could tell she was listening.

“Her name was Eleni,” he said, the name feeling strange on his tongue after all this time. “She was a demigod. We met in college, and I thought she was the one. But when she was given the chance to become a goddess, to live in Olympus, she didn’t even hesitate. She chose immortality over staying in the Upperworld and being with me.”

He paused, the memory of that time still raw, even after all these years. “I couldn’t blame her for it—who would turn down such an opportunity? But it messed me up. I’ve never been able to have a serious relationship since then. Every time I got close to someone, I’d pull back, afraid of getting hurt like that again.”

A flicker of understanding flashed through her eyes, but then she schooled her expression. It felt like he was getting through to her. He had to keep going and make her see why he had acted the way he did.

“Then you came into my life,” he added, his voice softening. “And the intensity of what we had—it was overwhelming. I hadn’t felt that way in so long, and it scared the hell out of me. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I lashed out. I pushed you away because I was terrified of what it meant, of losing control again.”

Pain lanced through his chest, and he realized how tense he was, his muscles bunching. The strain in his shoulders felt like they were screwed tight. He wanted to hold her, knew that it would melt all the pain away. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I wish I could undo what I did, take back that moment when I let my fear get the better of me.”

She looked at him, her expression softening just a fraction as she absorbed his words. “Eleni,” she repeated, her voice thoughtful. “She chose immortality and left you, and now you’re afraid of anyone doing the same.”

He nodded, his throat tight. “I didn’t want to admit it, but yeah. It felt too good to be true, like something that could be taken away at any moment.”

She sighed. “Cade, I’m not Eleni. I’m not going anywhere. But you need to understand that you can’t push people away because you’re scared. It’s not fair to them—or to you.”

“I know. I realize that now. I just hope it’s not too late to make things right.”

For a long moment, she was silent, her eyes searching his. Then she reached out, placing a hand on his chest, right over his heart. “You’ve hurt me. But I can see that you’re being honest with me now, and that means something.”

He looked at her, hope flickering in his chest. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back,” he promised.

They stood there in the moonlight, the silence between them laced with the possibility of healing.

“Artemis,” he whispered, his hand covering hers.

She looked up at him and gave a small, tentative smile. And his heart soared as he remembered those quiet moments wrapped in each other, the softness of her breath, the warmth of her kiss.

But then sadness locked into place in her eyes, and she pulled her hand back. “Don’t punish me for your hang-ups.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, and he bowed his head, knowing she was right. He had let his past pain dictate his actions, hurting her in the process. But now, he realized, more than ever, that he couldn’t let that fear control him anymore.

“I was wrong. Please let me make it up to you.”

Her expression shifted, her eyes narrowing with a look he recognized all too well. It was the same look she got when she’d made up her mind or was concentrating intensely on something. A chill ran down his spine as he realized what was coming.

Before he could say another word, she took another step back from him. “I can’t accept your apology. Not right now.”

And just like that, she disappeared, leaving him alone in the clearing.

“Artemis, come back now!” he roared.

A sudden gust of wind swept through the space, snuffing out the candles he’d painstakingly lit. The darkness that followed felt suffocating, pressing in on him from all sides.

Panic surged in his chest. He rushed to the altar, fumbling with the matches, trying to relight the candles, but no matter how many times he struck the match, the flames refused to catch. It was as if the air itself was conspiring against him, mocking his efforts.

“Artemis!” he shouted into the night, his voice echoing off the trees. “Don’t do this! Don’t shut me out!” His heart pounded, desperation clawing at him. He couldn’t let her slip away like this, not after everything they’d been through.

He dropped to his knees, clenching his fists in the dirt, and prayed with everything he had. “I’m not giving up. You can shut me out, you can disappear, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll keep praying. I’ll keep calling to you until you hear me.”

The forest was silent, and the only sound was leaves rustling in the breeze. He waited, hoping for a sign, anything to show that she’d heard him. But the night remained still, offering no comfort, no response.

But even as doubt gnawed at him, he refused to give in. He stayed there, kneeling at the altar, his resolve hardening with every passing moment. “I won’t give up,” he repeated, his voice low but firm. “Not on you, not on us.”

He would keep calling out to her no matter how long it took. He’d prove to her that he was worth the risk, that he was ready to face his fears and fight for what they had. And he wouldn’t stop until she believed it too.