Semua Bab The Bodyguards boy : Bab 11 - Bab 17

The LGBTQ Gala was everything a PR team could dream of spotlights dancing across city landmarks, rainbow banners unfurling down the steps of the Grand Vespara Hotel, and cameras flashing like falling stars.The ballroom shimmered with crystal chandeliers and prism-colored lights that danced across marble floors. Banners proclaiming “Visibility is Power” hung beside media walls stamped with the Wesley name in sharp gold letters.Cassian Wesley arrived last.He stepped out of the black car like it was a stage curtain peeling back. He wore white velvet an immaculate tux stitched with subtle embroidery across the shoulders. A silver phoenix in flight shimmered faintly beneath the lights, rising out of velvet like a secret reborn.People stared. Cameras clicked. Even the moon seemed to pause.Rowan trailed behind in a charcoal grey suit, the crisp collar open, no tie. He was a shadow dressed in elegance, quiet power beneath polished restraint. If Cassian was fire, Rowan was the steel that

Morning light crept into the penthouse through gauzy drapes, casting soft shadows across the floor. But there was no peace in the glow just exhaustion wearing yesterday’s clothes.Cassian hadn’t slept. The message from the unknown number had replayed in his mind all night like a ticking clock.Happy almost birthday, Cassian.He stared at his laptop, bleary-eyed, the blue glow accentuating the lines of worry etched into his face. He refreshed the security logs again.Still three access attempts. Still one unknown ID.Rowan entered the room, unshaven, shirt half-buttoned. “You’re still up?”Cassian didn’t look at him. “Did you know there were remote login attempts on the server?”Rowan’s brows furrowed. “No. You’re sure?”Cassian turned the laptop toward him. “Look. Two are yours. The third is untagged. Not from my system. Not from yours.”Rowan leaned in. “Could be a hacker. Could be someone we missed.”Cassian’s jaw tightened. “Could be someone watching us.”The tension between them h

The sun was already beginning its slow descent, casting golden fire over the city when Cassian stepped onto the penthouse terrace.Rows of low tables were draped in white linen, champagne buckets sweating against the humid air. The rooftop pool glittered like liquid crystal, its surface reflecting strings of white fairy lights stretched above. Guests mingled in crisp white linen dresses, linen shirts, tailored shorts, wide-brimmed hats. The scent of sea salt from the man-made rooftop breeze mixed with the sweetness of champagne and the faint, clean burn of pool chlorine.Cassian had dressed the part white beach shorts with gold drawstrings, a thin linen shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest, sleeves rolled casually. The light kissed his collarbone, catching on the fine chain resting against his skin. His bare feet padded silently across the deck as he scanned the crowd.He’d told himself this party wasn’t about celebration. It was about distraction. About drowning the past few weeks in music

Cold.That was the first thing he knew cold that wasn’t just on the surface, but deep, invasive, clawing into the marrow of his bones. The ocean swallowed him whole, pressing in from all sides as if determined to erase him. Cassian kicked instinctively, arms flailing through water that felt heavier than gravity itself. His lungs screamed, desperate for air, but the dark waves pressed down, unrelenting.The last thing he remembered clearly was laughter his own, a brittle thing fed by too much liquor and then headlights, wind, speed. And then betrayal. Hands that touched him too familiarly, shoving him, not holding him. A blur of motion, the car, the bridge. The sharp rush of saltwater closing over his head.Now it was only chaos.Cassian fought upward, but the surface kept slipping farther away. Every movement was sluggish, like swimming through wet cement. His beach shirt twisted around him, tangling against his body like a net. Panic roared in his chest, hotter than the freezing wave