IN THE DEVIL'S ARMS

CHAPTER FIVE

★ Cassie's POV ★

I woke to pale morning light filtering through unfamiliar windows.

For a moment, I lay still, staring at the ceiling, half-convinced the previous night had been a nightmare. That I'd wake up in my own bed at the Klein estate, with Lana bringing breakfast and everything would be normal.

But the silk sheets beneath me were too soft. The room too elegant. And the ache in my body from running through the storm was too real.

It had all happened.

Sam's threats. The escape. Rafael Montez.

The truth about my parents' deaths.

I sat up slowly, my mind still reeling from everything Rafael had told me. My father, Marcus Roglas had been a thief. A murderer. He'd stolen priceless artifacts from Rafael's family and killed Rafael's father in the process.

And I'd been there that night. I'd witnessed it all.

But I couldn't remember. Couldn't remember anything except fragments, shadows, fire, screaming.

The door opened quietly. A woman in her fifties entered, carrying a tray with breakfast. She had kind eyes and moved with the practiced grace of someone who'd been in service for years.

"Good morning, miss," she said softly, setting the tray on the bedside table. "Mr. Montez asked me to bring you something to eat. There are fresh clothes in the closet if you'd like to change."

"Thank you," I managed, my voice still rough from sleep.

She smiled gently. "My name is Alma. If you need anything at all, just press the button by the bed. I'll come right away."

After she left, I picked at the food, fresh fruit, toast, eggs cooked perfectly. It was more care than I'd received at the Klein house in years. Uncle Javin had always made sure I was fed, but it was sustenance, not comfort. This felt different.

After eating, I found the clothes Alma had mentioned. Simple but expensive jeans that fit surprisingly well, a soft sweater, undergarments still in packaging. Someone had been very thorough.

I dressed slowly, my mind racing. What was I supposed to do now? Rafael had offered protection in exchange for my memories. But what if I couldn't remember? What if whatever Uncle Javin had been giving me had destroyed those memories permanently?

And what if I did remember and the truth was worse than I imagined?

A knock on the door startled me.

"Come in," I called.

Rafael entered, dressed more casually than last night, dark jeans and a black shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoos I'd glimpsed before. In daylight, he looked less like the dangerous stranger from the storm and more like... I wasn't sure what. Someone powerful. Someone who carried weight.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Confused. Scared. Angry." I met his eyes. "Take your pick."

A slight smile touched his lips. "All reasonable responses."

He gestured toward the door. "Would you walk with me? There's something I want to show you."

I hesitated, then nodded. What choice did I have?

---

Rafael led me through the penthouse. it was larger than I'd realized, with multiple rooms, a study, even a small library. We ended up in what looked like his office, all dark wood and leather furniture, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.

But it was the wall that caught my attention.

Photos. Documents. Articles. All pinned to a massive board, connected by red string in intricate patterns.

"What is this?" I breathed.

"Eleven years of investigation," Rafael said quietly, moving to stand beside me. "Everything I've been able to piece together about the night your parents died. About the fire. About what happened to my father."

I stepped closer, scanning the images. There were photos of a burning estate, my family's estate, I realized with a jolt. News clippings about the "tragic accident." Police reports marked with highlights and annotations.

And photos of people. My parents, young and smiling in some pictures, serious in others. A man who must have been Rafael's father. I could see the resemblance, especially in the eyes. And others I didn't recognize.

"This is Antonio Montez," Rafael said, pointing to his father. "He was your father's business partner. They built an empire together. legitimate businesses on the surface, but with connections deep in the underworld. Art acquisition, mostly. They had a talent for finding pieces that had been lost to history."

He moved to another section of the board. "This is the collection they built together. Artifacts from a dozen countries. Ancient pieces worth millions. But more than that, these pieces had power. Influence. They opened doors that money alone couldn't open."

I stared at the photos of beautiful, ancient objects. Sculptures. Jewelry. Tablets covered in writing I couldn't read.

"What happened?" I asked softly.

Rafael's jaw tightened. "Your father got greedy. Or scared. Maybe both. He decided he wanted the collection for himself. So he staged a meeting at your family estate, invited my father over to 'discuss business.' And then..."

He pulled out a file, opened it to reveal burn patterns, accelerant reports. "He set the fire. Made it look like an electrical accident. My father died in the flames. Your parents died too, though whether that was planned or if it went wrong, I don't know."

"And the collection?"

"Vanished. No trace of it was ever found. The police ruled it an accident. Case closed." His voice was bitter. "Except I was seventeen years old, and I knew my father wouldn't have died in a simple house fire. He was too careful. Too prepared."

He turned to look at me. "So I started digging. And the more I dug, the more questions I found. Questions about your uncle Javin, about the Moretti family, about why you, the only survivor, were kept hidden away like a secret."

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm room. "Uncle Javin told me my parents died in an accident. That I was lucky to survive. That the trauma made me forget."

"He lied." Rafael's voice was hard. "He's been lying to you for eleven years. And the drugs he's been giving you? They weren't for nightmares. They were to keep you from remembering the truth."

"But why?" My voice broke. "If my father did what you say, if he killed your father and stole everything, why would Javin protect me? Why not just..."

"Get rid of you?" Rafael finished. "Because you're worth more alive than dead. Your parents had accounts, properties, assets hidden all over the world. And you as their only child and heir are the key to accessing them. But more than that..."

He pulled out another document. "Your parents left a will. A very specific will. It states that everything they owned including the collection, if it's ever found, goes to you on your twentieth birthday."

My twentieth birthday. That was in three months.

"Javin has been your guardian all these years," Rafael continued. "Which means he's had control of your assets. But once you turn twenty, that control ends. Unless..."

"Unless I'm dead," I whispered. "Or declared incompetent."

"Exactly." Rafael's eyes darkened. "That's why he's been drugging you. Keeping you unstable. Building a case that you're mentally unfit to inherit. And when that wasn't enough, when the Morettis started circling, he decided to trade you away."

I sank into a nearby chair, my mind spinning. Everything I'd known about my life was a lie. My uncle wasn't protecting me, he was using me. My nightmares weren't just nightmares, they were memories trying to surface.

And my parents... I didn't even know who they really were.

"You said I was there that night," I said quietly. "That I witnessed what happened."

Rafael nodded. "You were eight years old. According to the police reports, you were found outside the estate, in shock. You couldn't speak for days. When you finally did, you said you didn't remember anything."

"But I do remember," I whispered. "Not clearly. But in my nightmares, there's fire, and screaming, and..." I closed my eyes, trying to grasp the fragments. "Someone was arguing. Loud voices. And then glass breaking."

"What else?"

"A woman. She was crying. She kept saying 'protect her, protect her.' And then..." I opened my eyes, tears streaming down my face. "Then nothing. Just fire and darkness."

Rafael knelt in front of me, his expression intense. "Cassie, those aren't just nightmares. Those are memories. And if we can help you remember more, if you can tell me what you saw that night, we can prove what really happened. We can expose Javin, find the collection, and get justice for everyone who died."

"And what happens to me?" I asked. "When this is all over?"

He was quiet for a moment. "You get your life back. Your inheritance. Your freedom. Everything that was stolen from you."

"But you want revenge," I said. "For your father. That's what this is really about."

"Yes," he admitted. "I want justice for my father. But Cassie your parents are dead too. Don't you want to know the truth about what happened to them? Don't you want to make the people who've been using you pay?"

I did. God help me, I did.

"How do we do this?" I asked. "How do I remember?"

Rafael stood, offering me his hand. "Carefully. The memories are there, but they've been buried deep. We'll need to work slowly, safely. I have a colleague, a psychologist who specializes in recovered memory. She's discreet and trustworthy."

I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. "And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, you stay here. Safe. Hidden. While I deal with Javin and the Morettis." His grip tightened slightly. "But I need you to trust me, Cassie. Can you do that?"

Could I trust him? This man who'd appeared out of nowhere, who had his own agenda, who wanted to use my memories for his revenge?

But then again, what choice did I have? He was the only person who'd told me the truth. The only person who seemed to see me as more than a pawn.

"I'll try," I said finally.

Something flickered in his eyes, approval, maybe. Or relief.

"That's all I ask."

---

★ Rafael's POV ★

Watching Cassie process everything I'd told her was like watching a wall crumble. Every revelation stripped away another layer of the lies she'd been living with, leaving her raw and exposed.

I should have felt satisfied. This was what I'd been working toward for years finding the witness who could unlock everything.

But instead, I felt something uncomfortably close to guilt.

She was so young. So damaged. And I was about to drag her through hell to get what I needed.

After our conversation in the study, I left her with Alma, who was under strict instructions to keep her comfortable but watched. I trusted Alma with my life and with Isadora's but Cassie was different. She was leverage. Insurance. The key to everything I'd been searching for.

I couldn't afford to be soft.

In my office, Nicolas was waiting with updates.

"Javin Klein is tearing the city apart looking for her," he reported. "He's called in every favor, activated every contact. He's desperate."

"Good. Desperate men make mistakes."

"The Morettis are also asking questions. They know she's missing, and they're not happy that their 'acquisition' has vanished."

I smiled coldly. "Let them be unhappy. They should have moved faster."

Nicolas hesitated. "Rafael... what's your endgame here? You have the girl. You have leverage over both Javin and the Morettis. But what's the actual plan?"

I turned to the window, looking out at the city. "The plan is to make Cassie remember everything. Every detail of that night. And then we use that information to destroy Javin, recover the collection, and prove my father was murdered."

"And the girl? What happens to her when this is over?"

"She gets her inheritance. Her freedom. A chance at a real life."

"If she survives."

I didn't answer. Because Nicolas was right. this was dangerous. Javin wouldn't give up easily. The Morettis wouldn't either. And there were others, players I hadn't even identified yet, who wanted what Cassie knew.

My phone buzzed. Unknown number.

I answered. "Montez."

"You have something that belongs to me." Javin Klein's voice was ice and fury.

"I have someone who never belonged to you," I corrected. "Cassandra is under my protection now."

"Protection?" He laughed, harsh and bitter. "You don't care about protecting her. You're using her, just like everyone else."

"Perhaps. But at least I'm honest about it. Unlike you, who's been lying to her for eleven years."

Silence. Then, "What do you want?"

"The truth. About what happened the night Antonio Montez died. About the collection. About why you've been drugging your niece into submission."

"You know nothing about what happened that night."

"Then enlighten me. Or I'll let Cassie remember on her own. And when she does, I'll make sure the whole world knows what you've done."

Another pause. "You're making a mistake, Montez. She's more dangerous than you realize. If she remembers everything...."

"Then finally, someone will pay for my father's death." I ended the call before he could respond.

Nicolas was watching me carefully. "He's right, you know. If she remembers everything, there's no telling what we'll uncover. It might be more than you're prepared for."

"I've been preparing for this for eleven years. Whatever the truth is, I'll face it."

"And if it destroys her?"

I met his gaze. "Then that's a price I'm willing to pay."

But even as I said it, I felt something twist in my chest. Because I'd seen the way Cassie looked at me—with hope, with desperation, with the beginnings of trust.

And I was about to break her all over again.

---

★ Javin's POV ★

The call with Rafael Montez left me with a rage so profound I could barely see straight.

He had her. After everything I'd done to keep Cassie buried, hidden, controlled, she'd run straight into the arms of the one man who could ruin everything.

"Sam!" I barked.

He appeared in the doorway, still looking bruised and bitter. "Yes?"

"I just spoke with Rafael Montez. He has Cassandra."

Sam's eyes widened. "How did he..."

"It doesn't matter how. What matters is getting her back before she remembers too much." I paced the study, my mind racing through options. "We need to move carefully. Rafael isn't like other men. He has resources, connections, and a vendetta that makes him dangerous."

"So what do we do?"

I turned to face him. "We use the one thing Rafael Montez cares about more than revenge."

"What's that?"

A cold smile crossed my face. "His daughter."

Sam straightened. "You want to go after a child?"

"I want leverage. And Isadora Montez is the perfect leverage." I moved to my desk, pulling out files I'd kept for years, insurance, I'd called it. "Rafael thinks he's untouchable. That his security is impenetrable. But everyone has a weakness. And his is that little girl."

"If we take her...."

"We don't take her. Not yet. We threaten. We let him know that we can reach her anytime we want. And in exchange for her safety, he gives us Cassandra."

Sam looked uncertain. "And if he refuses?"

"Then we make good on the threat." I met his gaze coldly. "I didn't spend eleven years building this empire just to watch it crumble because one girl's memories. Whatever it takes, Sam. Whatever it takes."

He nodded slowly. "I'll make the arrangements."

After he left, I stood alone in my study, staring at the photograph on my desk. It was old, faded, showing Marcus and Elena Roglas in happier times, before everything went to hell.

Before I had to make the choices I made.

"I'm sorry, Elena," I whispered to my dead sister. "But your daughter is going to destroy everything we built if I don't stop her."

And I would stop her.

Even if it meant burying the truth and Cassandra forever.