Don’t you dare defend her.

Cassidy's POV

The door swung open with a groan that echoed my dread, the familiar musty scent of the apartment hitting me like a slap—stale coffee, cheap perfume, and something sharper, like regret. Or betrayal. The lights were off, but midday sun filtered through the cracked blinds, casting long, jagged shadows across the living room. I froze on the threshold, my heart slamming against my ribs, every nerve screaming at me to turn and run back to Dante’s car, back to his arms, back to the oblivion he’d given me.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. This was my mess, my life, and hiding wouldn’t fix the shards they’d left behind.

The shadow shifted—human-shaped, too solid to be a trick of the light. It moved from the kitchenette, stepping into view, and my stomach plummeted further, twisting into knots.

Jason.

He looked like hell—hair disheveled, eyes red-rimmed, shirt wrinkled like he’d slept in it. Or hadn’t slept at all. He clutched a half-empty beer bottle, the kind he always swore he’d quit, and his face crumpled when he saw me. “Cassie... thank God you’re okay. I’ve been waiting all night. Where were you?”

I slammed the door behind me, the bang rattling the walls, but it did nothing to ease the fury boiling up. “Okay? You think I’m okay after walking in on you balls-deep in my mother? Get out, Jason. Now.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he set the bottle down with a clink, stepping closer, hands raised like I was a wild animal he needed to soothe. “Please, just hear me out. It wasn’t planned. Your mom—she came over looking for you, and one thing led to another. I was weak, Cassie. Stupid. But I love you. We can fix this.”

Love? The word tasted like acid on my tongue. I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound that bounced off the peeling wallpaper. “Fix this? You confessed yesterday—you’re into ‘real women’ with curves and fire I don’t have. Remember? While you were scrambling for your pants like a coward.”

His face flushed, shame flickering before defensiveness took over. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was panicked. You’re everything to me—sweet, talented, my girl. Your mom... she’s just experienced. She knows how to—”

“Stop.” I cut him off, my voice shaking but steel-edged. “Don’t you dare defend her. Or yourself. You’re both poison.”

The bedroom door creaked open then, and out she sauntered—my mother, in a silk robe that probably wasn’t hers, hair tousled like she’d just rolled out of my bed. Again. Her eyes narrowed at me, lips curling into that familiar sneer, the one that said I was an inconvenience, a mistake she’d never quite fixed. “Well, look who decided to crawl back. Had your little tantrum? Good. Now grow up and deal with it.”

I stared at her, the slap from yesterday still throbbing faintly on my cheek, a ghost of her cruelty. “Deal with it? You slapped me. Called me a bitch. Told me you can sleep with anyone you want because I’m nothing to you.”

She shrugged, lighting a cigarette with a flick of her lighter, the smoke curling like venom. “And? Truth hurts, sweetheart. You’ve always been too sensitive. Jason here? He’s just a fling. Men come and go—money’s what stays. Your dad learned that the hard way when I left his broke ass.”

Jason shifted uncomfortably, glancing between us like he was caught in a crossfire he’d started. “Ladies, maybe we can—”

“Shut up,” I snapped at him, then turned back to her. “You never loved me. Admit it. I was just baggage while you chased sugar daddies and their wallets. Dad worked two jobs to keep us afloat, and you ditched him for the next rich prick. And now? You’re screwing my boyfriend to... what? Prove you still got it?”

Her eyes flashed, and she took a drag, exhaling slowly. “Love? That’s for fairy tales, kid. I kept a roof over your head, didn’t I? Clothes on your back? But no, you’re ungrateful, always whining. Jason saw what you couldn’t—he wanted a woman who takes what she wants.” She smirked, glancing at him. “Didn’t you, baby?”

Jason mumbled something incoherent, rubbing his neck, but I didn’t care. The room spun with rage, memories flooding back: birthdays forgotten, school events skipped, the endless parade of “uncles” who bought her affection while I hid in my room, sketching worlds where mothers cared. “You’re pathetic,” I whispered, voice cracking. “Both of you. Get out of my apartment. Now.”

Mom laughed, a sharp, mocking bark. “Your apartment? I pay half the rent, remember? From my ‘sugar daddies.’ You’d be on the street without me.”

“Not anymore.” I marched past them, into my bedroom—the scene of the crime. The sheets were still rumpled, the air thick with their scent. I yanked open drawers, stuffing clothes into a duffel bag, my sketchbook on top. Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them away. No more weakness. Dante’s words echoed: You’re fire—fierce, unbreakable.

Jason followed, hovering in the doorway. “Cassie, don’t do this. We can talk. I’ll end it with her. Promise.”

I whirled on him. “End it? It’s already ended. You chose her. Live with it.”

Mom appeared behind him, arms crossed. “Dramatic as always. Where you gonna go? Back to that club? Spread your legs for the first guy who buys you a drink? Classy.”

Her words stung, but they also ignited something—defiance. I zipped the bag, slinging it over my shoulder. “Better than being you. At least I’d be wanted for me, not my wallet.”

She stepped forward, hand twitching like she might slap me again, but I didn’t flinch. “You little—”

“Touch me, and I call the cops,” I warned, phone in hand. “Assault. Trespassing. Take your pick.”

She hesitated, eyes narrowing, then backed off with a scoff. “Fine. Run away. But don’t come crawling back when life kicks your ass.”