The need to Know

The garden was cold, the night air biting at Cassandra's exposed skin.

She stood among the roses, her arms wrapped around herself, staring at nothing. The file was still in her hands—clutched so tightly her knuckles had gone white. She couldn't seem to put it down. Couldn't seem to let go of the truth it contained.

Her mother had a brother. A brother who betrayed her. A father who might not be her father.

She laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the silence. For twenty years, she'd believed she knew who she was. She'd believed she understood her past. And now, in the span of a single evening, everything she thought she knew had crumbled to dust.

She touched the necklace at her throat. The silver was warm against her cold fingers.

Who are you, Mom? she wondered. What were you hiding?

The garden offered no answers.

---

Dante found her an hour later.

She was still standing in the same spot, her face pale, her eyes red-rimmed. The file was now tucked under her arm, held against her chest like a shield.

He approached slowly, his footsteps careful on the gravel. "Cassandra."

She didn't turn around. "I need to find him. My uncle. I need to know what happened."

"Then we'll find him together."

"No." Her voice was sharp, cutting through the night air. "I have to do this alone."

Dante's jaw tightened. "That's not happening."

She finally turned to face him, her eyes blazing. "You don't get to decide that. You don't get to control everything."

"I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to protect you."

"By treating me like a child?" She stepped closer, her voice rising. "I'm not fragile, Dante. I'm not going to break. And I don't need you hovering over me every second."

"Cassandra—"

"You don't understand what this feels like!" Her voice cracked. "You've always known who you are. Where you came from. Even with the letters, even with Alessandro, you still knew you belonged somewhere. I have nothing. I have no idea who I am."

Dante's face hardened. "That's not true."

"It is true." She laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. "I don't know who my father is. I don't know what happened to my mother. I have a grandmother who kept secrets from me my whole life and an uncle who chose to let me believe I was alone. And you—" She stopped, her eyes glistening. "You keep pushing me away. You keep trying to protect me instead of letting me fight."

Dante's hands curled into fists at his sides. "Do you think I don't want to let you fight? Do you think I don't see how strong you are?"

"Then let me go."

"I can't lose you!"

The words exploded out of him, raw and desperate. He stepped closer, his eyes burning. "I can't lose you, Cassandra. You're the only thing that makes sense in my life. The only thing that's ever made sense. And if something happened to you—" His voice cracked. "I wouldn't survive it."

Cassandra stared at him, her anger faltering. "Dante—"

"Everything I've done, everything I've tried to protect you from—it's not because I think you're weak. It's because I'm terrified." He reached for her hands, his grip fierce. "I'm terrified of losing you. I'm terrified of failing you. I'm terrified that one day, you'll wake up and realize you deserve better than me."

Cassandra's throat tightened. "You think I'm going to leave?"

"I think you should." His voice was barely a whisper. "I think you should run as far away from me as possible. Because I'm broken, Cassandra. I'm so broken, and I don't know how to fix myself."

She pulled her hands free. For a moment, he thought she was going to walk away. He braced himself for the pain.

Instead, she reached up and cupped his face.

"You're not broken," she said quietly. "You're hurt. There's a difference."

"Cassandra—"

"Stop." Her thumbs brushed away the tears he hadn't realized were falling. "Stop trying to push me away. I'm not going anywhere."

Dante's eyes searched hers. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I love you." Her voice was steady, fierce. "And love doesn't run when things get hard."

He broke. He fell into her, his arms wrapping around her so tightly she could barely breathe. His face was buried in her hair, his body shaking.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"I know." She held him, her hand stroking his back. "I know."

---

They stood in the garden for a long time, wrapped in each other.

When they finally pulled apart, Dante's eyes were red, but there was something lighter in them. Something hopeful.

"I'll find a way," Cassandra said. "To find the truth. To find my uncle. But I need you to trust me. I need you to let me fight."

Dante nodded slowly. "I will. I swear."

"And I need you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"If I need to go alone—if I need to face something on my own—you'll let me."

He hesitated.

She held his gaze.

"Okay," he said finally. "I promise."

Cassandra nodded, stepping back. "Good. Then I'm leaving in the morning. To find Adrian."

Dante's eyes widened. "Tonight? Cassandra—"

"I need to know the truth." Her voice was final. "I won't be able to breathe until I do."

Dante was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.

"Then I'm coming with you."

"Romeo—"

"You said you needed me to let you fight." He stepped closer, his hand cupping her face. "I'm not stopping you. I'm standing beside you. There's a difference."

Cassandra looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. "You really mean that?"

"I really mean it."

She fell into his arms, her face buried in his chest.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Always."