Chapter Nine

CASSIAN

‎“Sweet dreams, sir. The boss is very eager to meet you.”

‎The voice, distorted by the gas mask, was the last thing I heard before the world dissolved into a chemical-induced void. But my assailant had made a critical error. He’d assumed his weapon was superior to my will. In the split second before consciousness fled, my fingers, growing numb and heavy, had found the tiny, recessed emergency button embedded in the door panel. A silent, desperate SOS to the only man I trusted.

‎I regained my consciousness from the darkness not with a jolt, but with a nauseating, slow roll. My head was a lead weight, pounding with a rhythm that matched the car’s tires on the asphalt. The air still tasted cloyingly sweet, the residue of the knockout gas. Disorientation held me for a moment—the rich smell of leather, the low hum of a powerful engine.

‎Then, it crashed over me. The airport. Diana. Lysandra’s frantic, tear-choked call. The masked driver. The hiss of gas.

‎Kidnapped.

‎The sheer, audacious impossibility of it sent a shock of pure adrenaline through my system, cutting through the chemical fog. I pushed myself up slowly, silently, my movements deliberate. The driver had discarded the grotesque mask. I could see the back of his head, the set of his shoulders. A professional, focused on the road. My eyes scanned the front seat. There, carelessly laid on the passenger side as if it were a newspaper, was a semi-automatic pistol.

‎We were speeding down an unfamiliar, poorly lit service road, warehouses and industrial fencing blurring past. We were in the bowels of the city, a place men like me never see.

‎This was my only chance.

‎With a speed that belied my dizziness, I lunged forward between the seats, my hand closing around the cold, hard steel of the pistol. I jammed the barrel against the base of his skull.

‎The car swerved violently. He cursed, gripping the wheel to correct our trajectory, his shock palpable in the tense silence. “What the—?! You’re supposed to be out for twenty four hours! It’s only been five!”

‎A cold, predatory smirk touched my lips, a reflex of reclaimed control. My voice was a low, venomous whisper. “I am Cassian Vale. Did you truly believe a cheap aerosol neurotoxin could hold me? You are even more deluded than I thought. Now, pull this car over. Now.”

‎I saw his shoulders tense. He began to slow, his hands moving toward the indicator. But a fresh wave of dizziness washed over me, a treacherous tide from the poison still in my veins. My vision swam, the gun wavered for a fraction of a second.

‎It was all the opening he needed.

‎With a practiced, fluid motion, he twisted, his hand striking out like a snake, not at me, but at the weapon. He knocked it from my weakened grip. The pistol clattered into the footwell between the seats.

‎I summoned every ounce of strength I had left, throwing myself at him, but my body was betraying me, sluggish and uncoordinated. He easily wrestled me off, shoving me back into the leather seats with a grunt of effort. He slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt on the deserted road.

‎The driver’s door flew open. He was coming for me. I struggled to rise, to fight, but my limbs were like water. He loomed over the backseat, his face now visible—hard, anonymous, mercenary. He raised a clenched fist, poised to deliver the blow that would send me back into the darkness.

‎And in that suspended moment, facing unconsciousness or worse, my mind did not conjure images of my empire, my wealth, or my vengeance.

‎It conjured her.

‎Lysandra. Her face, streaked with tears, her voice breaking with a fear I had sworn to prevent. ‘You have to save her! Please!’ I had failed. I was here, powerless, while she was alone in that penthouse, believing I had abandoned her, that her sister was lost. The thought was a more potent agony than any physical blow.

‎I braced for the impact, closing my eyes.

‎Arrghhhh!!

‎The scream that tore through the night was not mine.

‎My eyes flew open. The driver was writhing, his arm bent at a horrifying, unnatural angle behind his back. And standing behind him, face a mask of cold fury, was Felix.

‎“You are five minutes late, Felix,” I rasped, pushing myself up, the adrenaline finally burning away the last of the toxin.

‎“Traffic was hell, sir,” he replied, his voice tight as he applied more pressure, making the man scream again. The sound of screeching tires announced the arrival of my security team, three black SUVs surrounding us, doors flying open, men spilling out with weapons drawn.

‎I rose, straightening my torn and disheveled white tuxedo, a vain attempt to reclaim a shred of dignity. I took a deep, steadying breath, the cool night air clearing the last of the fuzziness from my head.

‎“Boss,” Felix said, his knee in the man’s back. “What are your orders for this garbage?”

‎I looked at the man, my gaze flat and devoid of mercy. “Take him away. Take him to the black site. I want to know who he works for, who paid him, and what ‘boss’ he was delivering me to.”

‎Then, the image of Lysandra’s terrified face flashed behind my eyes again, followed by the memory of her sister, vulnerable in a hospital bed. This man was a part of that. He was a loose thread in a plot that had threatened what was mine. Rage, cold and absolute, washed over me.

‎I changed my mind. “No,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper that was more terrifying than a shout. “Kill him.”

‎The man, despite his pain, let out a ragged, hysterical laugh. “Too late! It’s already done! My mission is complete! They’re probably both dead by now!”

‎Then, his body convulsed once. A trickle of black foam spilled from his lips, and his eyes rolled back into his head before he slumped, lifeless, to the asphalt. Cyanide capsule. A fanatic.

‎“Sir, I didn’t know—” Felix began, his face grim.

‎“I don’t care for excuses,” I cut him off, my voice like shattering ice. “Clean this up. Leave no trace. The investigation can wait.” My mind was already miles away, back in the city. “Dispatch the K-Unit to Metropolitan General Hospital. Now. Their orders are to rescue and secure the patient Elara and all hospital staff. They should use any and all necessary force. I want every hostile target eliminated on sight. Do you understand?”

‎Without waiting for his acknowledgment, I shoved the dead driver aside and slid into the driver’s seat of the Audi. The engine was still running.

‎I slammed the door and pulled out, leaving my team to handle the mess. The Audi responded like a beast, its engine roaring as I pushed it past 100, then 120 mph. I weaved through traffic with a recklessness born of pure fury, a dangerous dance on the edge of control. In the rearview mirror, I saw my convoy scrambling to keep up, their lights flashing in the distance.

‎I didn’t care about speed limits, or traffic, or anything. There was only the road and the destination.

‎I skidded to a halt in front of the penthouse tower, the tires screeching in protest. I was out of the car before the engine had fully settled, not waiting for the elevators, taking the private stairs two at a time.

‎As I burst into the silent, opulent foyer of my home, a sound shattered the calm.

‎BANG.

‎It was the sound of a door being forced. It came from down the hall. From her room.

‎A fear I had never known, cold and sharp, lanced through me. I moved, a silent predator fueled by incandescent rage.

‎The door to her room was splintered around the lock. Inside, the scene froze the blood in my veins. Three armed men, dressed in black tactical gear. One had a grip on Lysandra’s arm, trying to drag her, kicking and fighting, from the room. The other two were ransacking her drawers, tearing apart the sanctuary I had provided.

‎The man holding her never saw me coming.

‎I crossed the room in two strides. My foot connected with the side of his head with a sickening crack. He dropped like a stone. The other two spun around, fumbling for their weapons. They were too slow. I was a whirlwind of violence. A crippling kick to the first one’s knee, a brutal elbow to the second’s throat. They were on the ground before they could even aim, unconscious or incapacitated.

‎Then, I saw her.

‎Lysandra was crumpled in the corner, knees drawn to her chest, her body wracked with silent, terrified sobs. The sight was a physical blow. All the cold fury drained away, replaced by a profound, aching need to protect.

‎I went to her, kneeling, my movements suddenly gentle. I gathered her into my arms, pulling her against my chest. She was trembling violently.

‎“I…” I whispered into her hair, my voice rough with an emotion I didn’t recognize. “I thought… I was too late.”

‎For a moment, she just clung to me, then she seemed to snap back to reality. She pushed against my chest, her small fists pounding me, each blow filled with a torrent of fear and anger she could no longer contain.

‎“Where were you?!” she cried, her voice breaking. “Your phone was off! Where is my sister? Where is she?! You promised! You promised she would be safe! Please, just tell me she’s alive! Please!”

‎Before I could form an answer, Felix appeared in the shattered doorway, his phone to his ear. “Sir. Operation successful. The hospital is secure. All hostiles have been neutralized. The package is safe and being stabilized. Should we initiate relocation to the new facility?”

‎Lysandra froze, her tear-streaked face turning to him, a desperate hope shining in her eyes. “Package? Is that my sister? Is she alive? Tell me!”

‎Felix’s stern expression softened a fraction. “Yes, madam. Your sister is alive. Our medical team is with her now. She’s going to be alright.”

‎The sound that escaped her was half-sob, half-sigh of utter relief. The fight drained out of her completely. She turned back to me, and this time, she collapsed into my embrace, her arms wrapping around me, holding on as if I were the only solid thing in a world that had tried to shatter her.

‎“I was so afraid,” she whispered into my neck, her body shaking with the aftershocks. “I thought you’d left us. I thought you were like all the others. I didn’t know what to do.”

‎I held her tighter, a strange, fierce protectiveness swelling in my chest, an ache I couldn’t name. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, the words foreign on my tongue. “I’m here now. Nothing will ever happen to you or Elara again. I swear it.”

‎As she cried her relief into my shoulder, I looked over her head at the scene of violence in her room. The cold fury returned, but it was different now. It was no longer just rage. It was a promise. A vow.

‎I met Felix’s eyes, and mine must have held a terrifying light, for he stiffened.

‎“I want a full report on my desk by dawn,” I said, my voice quiet, lethally calm. “I want every camera, every financial record, every whisper. Find who did this. Find their families. Find their friends. Find everything they love.”

‎I gently extracted myself from Lysandra’s grasp, lowering her onto the edge of the bed. I stood to my full height, looking down at the men who had dared to breach my home.

‎“They have forgotten who I am,” I said, the words dropping like stones into the silent room. “It is time to remind them. I will not just ruin them. I will erase them. Whoever is behind this will spend their final days begging for a death I will not grant.”