Cassian stood before them, his presence like a storm breaking through calm skies. His aura pressed down—heavy, suffocating—his gaze locked not on Lyra, but on Rowan.
It wasn't his words that unsettled them. It was the look in his eyes. Cold. Sharp. Possessive.
The kind of look that made Rowan stiffen, instinctively retreating a step.
For a brief, charged moment, their eyes clashed—a silent warning passing between them. Then, without a word, Cassian reached for Lyra, pulling her firmly to his side. His grip was unyielding as he led her away, never once glancing back.
Rowan stood rooted, jaw tight, until his gaze fell to his palm. The broken necklace glinted there—a fragile remnant of Lyra's secret.
Lyra's chest ached with anxiety as Cassian strode beside her, his silence heavier than the grip on her wrist. She wanted to speak, to explain, but fear gnawed at her. What if he truly believed there had been something between her and Rowan?
