Cassian Romane & Geschichten

“I haven't seen you before, and I don't think I know you.” “Cassian.” He gave a mock bow. “I'm Xavier's second in command.” “Oh.” Somehow, this truth slapped harder than being caught by Xavier himself. This way, I could already predict what was going to happen. He was definitely going to tell Xavier. "Cassian," I breathed, completely shocked. "I could ask what you're doing out here,” He raised a brow. “skulking around like a thief, but I think we both know the answer." "I wasn’t skulking." I squared my shoulders. “Aren't I allowed a little walk here?”

The man’s golden eyes gleamed slightly. “The Blood Moon wolf has awakened.” A murmur rippled through the warriors. Varek’s voice hardened. “State your name.” The stranger looked back at him. “Cassian.” Selene’s eyes widened slightly. “Cassian?” Kael glanced at her. “You know him?” Selene nodded slowly. “I’ve heard stories.” Lyra whispered, “That’s never a good sign.” Varek crossed his arms. “You’re a long way from your territory.” Cassian shrugged casually.

“If Milan wanted you dead, you’d already be ashes with the rest of this place.” Noa’s hand brushed Alessio’s arm, a small, grounding touch that kept him from pulling the trigger. “Who the hell are you?” he asked, voice trembling but fierce. The man tilted his head, studying them both with lazy amusement. “My name's Cassian.” Alessio’s jaw hardened. “Milan’s errand boy.” Cassian chuckled a low, rich sound that echoed through the basement. “Errand boy? No. More like… student.”

But you wouldn’t mistake them for the same man, not even with matching bone structure and identical predator stillness. Where Lucien is ice, mystery and elegance, Cassien is darkness and dark castle from old times. His long black hair falls loose down his back, and he’s wrapped in a deep, black robe from the old underworld times. It was like the world was evolving, but Cassien is not. Eyes like obsidian meet mine—sharp, precise, dissecting. Cassien is the thinker. The judge. And when he moves, it’s deliberate. Like he’s reading the threads of your future and deciding whether you deserve to keep it so he could report to the council. He's like a black puppy wagging his tail at the council's or

“Even to your detriment.” “And should it eventually come to that, I’m capable enough to protect myself.” Seconds trickled by with nothing but silence between us. I wasn’t sure if he was stunned, or simply impressed by my perceived gusto. Then the corner of his lips tugged up. Brown eyes that had been hostile just seconds ago were now softer than ever. “I believe I didn’t introduce myself properly the last time.” He reached out a hand. “Cassian Orlov. Second-in-command, and Dante’s best friend. Don’t ask him that though. He’ll deny it even if his life is on the line.”

She turned slowly. Cassian Varest lounged against one of the tall stone pillars in the outer corridor, as if he had been waiting. At seventeen, he looked like he had been born to be annoying and handsome at the same time—dark auburn hair perfectly tousled, gray eyes sharp and cold, and posture relaxed in an expensive dark coat trimmed with silver. He pushed off the pillar and walked toward her, boots tapping against the polished floor. “You should have failed,” he repeated, his voice calm but edged with something like anger. “All of them especially Caligo.”

He was the only one who might know how to undo Carlton’s grip, how to free Ava, how to salvage whatever scraps remained of my honour. I reached the heavy oak doors and raised my fist to unlock them. “Deric.” The voice was calm but carried like a gunshot through my thoughts. I turned sharply. Cassian stood leaning against a stone pillar, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. His hair was tied back today, revealing the hard lines of his face, the little scar that cut from his temple to jaw like a blade had kissed him once and let him live out of pity. “Move,” I growled, stepping forward.

Nero walked toward Cassian, his expression dark. The blade he was holding was still stained with Calix's blood. It was a chilling sight. "I asked you a question. Are you Cassian York? Are you the one who broke my brother's leg?" Nero barked. "That's right. I'm Cassian York, and I did break Cain's leg." As he spoke, he resisted the overwhelming force that was bearing down on him. Nero was terrifyingly strong. His presence pressed down on Cassian like an invisible boulder.

Surrounding him are four senior northern scouts, their bodies rigid with a disciplined, lethal tension that belongs to active border soldiers. “So,” Cassian says, his voice carrying a harsh, grating northern accent that makes the air in the private room feel instantly brittle. He sets his glass down with a thud, his eyes locking onto my face with a slow, dismissive evaluation. “This is the grand distraction, ey? The legendary creature that made my brother forget his duties to the line.” Damon slides onto the sofa across from him, pulling me down onto his lap with a smooth, possessive movement that leaves no doubt about our alleged arrangement. His hand rests f

Through the bond, I felt the impact. A flash of silver roots. Stone pressing around ribs. Hands that held him down. Selene’s voice, soft and wet with fake tears. I am sorry. The Heart in my chest stuttered. My anger rose so fast I tasted metal. “No.” Kaeron’s eyes returned to me. I stepped closer to the open doors. My boots left bloody marks on the stone. “His name is Cassian.” The tower fell painfully quiet. Even the horses outside seemed to listen. Kaeron looked at me for a long moment. Then his gaze shifted back to Cassian.