LOGINNaomi’s Pov The night felt too still. Not peaceful just… waiting. The kind of stillness that presses into your skin and makes every breath feel louder than it should. The kind that warned me something could happen at any second. We stood outside the safehouse, the cold air brushing against my face. The van was ready, engine humming quietly while Rubio triple-checked the tires like as might betray us. Mara loaded the last of the equipment in the back. She moved with her usual calm, but I saw it the way her eyes flicked between Cassian and me. Observant. Knowing. Quietly amused. Cassian stood a few steps away from everyone, staring down the dark road ahead. He’d been silent since we geared up, body tense, jaw locked in that way that meant he was thinking too much and trusting too little. I approached him slowly. Not wanting to startle him. Not wanting to break whatever fragile thing was holding him together. He didn’t look at me at first. But when he did, it wasn’t the hard,
Naomi’s Pov The gear room in the safehouse was cramped, lit by a single hanging bulb that flickered every few minutes. Metal shelves lined the walls, stacked with vests, ammo, radios, and a mess of equipment that only made sense to people who lived in Cassian’s world. Rubio sorted through a crate on the floor, cursing under his breath at tangled wires. Mara checked her guns on the small workbench, cleaning each one with practiced ease. And Cassian… Cassian didn’t take his eyes off me. Not directly he wasn’t staring but every time I looked up, every time I reached for something, every time I shifted my weight, his head turned, his gaze flickered, his attention locked instantly. It wasn’t protective anymore. It was deeper. Worried. Focused. Afraid. I grabbed a vest from the shelf. It was heavier than I remembered, smelling faintly of metal and something chemical. When I struggled with the straps for half a second, Cassian appeared beside me like he teleported. “Let me,” he
Naomi’s Pov The safehouse office was small, barely big enough for a desk, two chairs, and the map Cassian had taped on the wall. The blinds were half-broken, letting in slivers of light that made dust float in the air like tiny secrets. Cassian stood with his back to the door, staring at the map. Not studying it. Not marking anything. Just staring. His hands were braced on the table, head bowed slightly, shoulders tight. He looked like a man fighting with himself. I stepped inside quietly. He heard me instantly. He always did. He straightened, but didn’t turn around. Not yet. “Close the door.” I did. For a moment, the only sound was the generator humming outside and my own heartbeat. Finally, Cassian turned. He looked exhausted not in the physical way, but in the emotional way. The kind that fills your eyes and stays in your posture no matter how much you try to hide it. “You came,” he said softly. “You told me to.” He nodded, but something in his face said he didn’t
Naomi’s Pov The kitchen was warm, lit with the soft yellow bulbs that flickered every few seconds. The safehouse wasn’t built for comfort, but something about the morning light made it feel gentler than it had any right to be. The three girls sat at the table tired, stiff, blinking into their cups of warm tea like they didn’t trust anything in front of them. I understood that feeling. Cassian stood near the counter, watching them with a tightness in his jaw he didn’t bother hiding. His shoulders were tense, but not in the same way as last night. This was… different. Protective. Careful. Like he didn’t want his presence to scare them. Rubio placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of the youngest girl with a soft smile. “There you go, sweetheart. Careful, it’s hot.” The girl didn’t touch the bowl. Her small hands tucked into the sleeves of her borrowed sweater. She kept staring at Cassian like he was a storm she didn’t know how to predict. He noticed. Of course he noticed. Cassian’s
Naomi’s Pov I woke up before the sun. Not because I slept well, I didn’t, but because something warm sat heavy in the room, like the air itself refused to let me drift too far from reality. My eyes opened slowly. Cassian was sitting in the wooden chair across from the bed, elbows on his knees, head tilted slightly forward. His hair was messy, the kind of messy that comes from running your hand through it too many times. The lamp was off now, but a faint gray light seeped through the small window behind him. He wasn’t asleep. He was watching me. Or… maybe watching over me. The realization hit slowly, soft as a heartbeat: He hadn’t slept. Not even for a minute. My voice came out rough. “Cassian?” His eyes snapped up instantly. Too fast. Too alert. “Did I wake you?” he asked quietly. “No. Were you… sitting there all night?” He didn’t answer immediately. His jaw worked once, like he was choosing between honesty and hiding. Finally, he sighed. “I couldn’t sleep.” “Because
Naomi’s Pov The small room Cassian led me into wasn’t much, just a narrow bed, a wooden chair, and a single lamp that flickered like it was tired too. The safehouse wasn’t meant for comfort. It was meant for hiding. Surviving. But the moment he closed the door behind us, the room felt different. Smaller. Warmer. Heavy with something neither of us knew how to name yet. Cassian stood there for a second, back against the door, breathing slowly, like he was trying to steady himself. His eyes didn’t move from me. Not once. “You can take the bed,” he said quietly. “I’m not sleeping,” I whispered. He hesitated, then nodded as he understood. “Me neither.” The silence between us was warm and uncomfortable at the same time like standing near a fire you’re not sure you should touch. He ran a hand through his hair, the stress still clinging to his shoulders. I sat on the edge of the bed; it creaked under me. He stayed standing. It felt wrong. “Cassian,” I said softly







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