Cassian had only ever truly feared one thing: losing control. Not over power, or his empire, or his influence—that was calculated, measured, expected. But the kind of control that unraveled when someone mattered too much. Someone like Anaïs.He didn’t see her right away when he entered the hospital corridor. What he saw instead were three armed guards outside a door he didn’t recognize, and a long smear of blood just faint enough to look like it had been hastily wiped. A nurse crossed herself when she passed by.Inside, the room was colder than he expected.Anaïs was there, standing. Not sitting, not resting, not leaning against the wall like someone who had nearly died hours ago. She was upright, but barely. Her eyes had that quiet rage in them that reminded him of fire under glass—contained, but burning steady.“You didn’t call,” she said.He didn’t know how to answer that. His hands twitched at his sides.“You almost died,” he said, finally.She nodded. “You left.”That cut deeper
Cassian sat in the dark, elbows braced on his knees, hands steepled against his mouth. The penthouse was quiet. No music, no humming vents, no distant murmur of the city. Just the sound of his own breath—and Anaïs’ words ringing in his head.“You think you’ve built this world with steel and strategy, but you’re just afraid. Afraid to feel. Afraid to lose.”She had said that, calmly. Like she wasn’t just tearing into him but… laying him bare.It shouldn’t have bothered him. But it did.The message from Harlan’s men had come hours earlier. A photograph of a bruised hand—Anaïs’—bound with zip ties, held up next to a newspaper dated today.They knew exactly what they were doing. And Cassian knew exactly what came next.“You’ve got two options,” the voice on the burner phone had said. “Either you hand over everything—control, holdings, the black files—or you watch her bleed. Slowly.”He hadn’t responded. He’d just hung up. Because Harlan didn’t need a response. He already knew Cassian woul
Cassian had always known how to silence a room. But this time, it wasn’t with his voice or his presence—it was with the way he stood behind Anaïs, a step back but undeniably there. Protective. Tense. Watching everyone.And it changed everything.In the sterile white walls of the underground chamber, surrounded by the council members who had thought they could manipulate the entire world from behind their polished tables, the power dynamics shifted. No one said a word at first. Not even Vaughn, whose smugness evaporated like steam.Anaïs, whose wrists still bore the faint red marks from the cuffs, turned her head slowly and looked up at Cassian. It wasn’t a question in her eyes. It wasn’t even relief. It was… anger. Quiet, simmering anger buried under the exhaustion.“You knew,” she whispered. “You always knew.”He didn’t flinch. “Yes.”She stared for a second longer, then looked away, jaw tightening.“Tell me,” she said aloud, stepping forward and facing the Council. “Why did you brin
Anaïs didn’t scream when she felt the blade slide across her shoulder—she staggered. Her breath hitched. Not from pain, not yet—but from the shock. She turned slowly, her eyes meeting Cassian’s. And something in her broke.Cassian hadn’t seen her get cut. He hadn’t even realized the man had gotten that close.But when he saw the blood soaking through the side of her blouse, something inside him exploded.“Get away from her,” he growled, voice low, guttural. Not loud. Dangerous.The man in the mask—Cerberus’s right-hand man, the one with the smirk too casual for the chaos he caused—paused for a split second. That was all Cassian needed. He lunged, no hesitation. He didn’t fight like a CEO. He fought like a man with nothing to lose.The man went down hard.Anaïs dropped to one knee, pressing her palm to her wound. It wasn’t deep, but it was enough to rattle her. Enough to wake up a scream that never quite made it out.The fight around them was chaos. Cassian’s security team had taken ov
The world didn’t move at first.It was like time had been punched in the throat—no sound, no shift, just air that hung thick with fear. Anaïs didn’t hear her own breathing, though she could feel her chest rising like it was struggling to push back against something invisible. Cassian’s voice echoed inside her skull from a moment ago, something about Maris, something sharp and warning—but it was all fog now.Because in front of her, just barely lit under the hallway’s dim ceiling lights, was Cerberus.No smile. No snarl. Just watching her.His presence didn’t feel like a man’s—it felt like a shadow had peeled itself off the wall and decided to grow bones.Anaïs tried to move. Tried to pull the gun from the small of her back where Cassian had taught her to keep it. But her hands wouldn’t listen. Her body was still caught somewhere between fear and the memory of everything they’d survived to get here.Cerberus cocked his head to the side, like he was studying her. His eyes flickered once
The room was too quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet. This one buzzed in Anaïs’s ears like a warning.She sat on the floor of Cassian’s study, knees tucked under her, staring at the shattered glass spread across the marble like a mosaic of everything broken between them. Her hands were trembling, fingers red where the tiny shards had kissed her skin. She hadn’t even noticed the pain until now.Cassian hadn’t said a word since the glass exploded against the wall. He just stood there, back straight, jaw tight, his eyes like obsidian ice.“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, voice low but steady.His eyes flicked toward her, almost like he was trying to decide if that was a challenge or a lie.“You should be,” he said simply.Anaïs swallowed. It wasn’t a threat. That was the worst part. It was a confession.The anger hadn’t come out of nowhere. She had pushed. She had pried. She had asked the one question that clawed at her every night he touched her without looking her in the eyes.“Who