Riven couldn't breathe.
Not from panic, not from fear—but from the phantom taste of Silas's voice in his ear, still coiling like smoke. It echoed through his thoughts, whispering old sins in a voice only he could hear.
You'll always be mine, Riven.
He stood in the shower, scalding water sluicing over bruises Cassian had painted across his hips and thighs. Beautiful bruises. Possessive ones. But they couldn't scrub Silas's voice from his skin.
Cassian entered without a word.
His body was a shadow of force, all heat and rage. He stepped behind Riven, wrapping strong arms around his waist, lips to shoulder.
"I know you're not okay."
Riven's reply was silence.
Cassian turned him around. "Talk to me."
And Riven did—without words. He dropped to his knees.
Cassian's eyes flared.
"Riven—"
But it was too late. Riven's mouth wrapped around him with reverence and raw need. This wasn't seduction. This was cleansing. His tongue was prayer. His moans were sin.
Cassian tangled his fingers in wet hair and lost himself—his head thrown back, breath hissing, hips bucking into that desperate heat.
When Riven finally pulled away, lips swollen, Cassian yanked him up, spun him, and pressed him against the fogged glass.
"You want to forget him?" he growled. "Then I'll give you something to remember."
And he did.
They fucked like war.
Flesh slapping. Steam rising. Voices echoing off tile.
By the time Cassian came inside him with a feral growl, Riven was sobbing—not from pain. From freedom.
From control.
---
Later that night, the darkness of the penthouse was pierced by a single message glowing on Riven's private tablet.
Silas: Still obedient, I see. I taught you well.
Riven's chest clenched. His fingers hovered over the delete button… but didn't press it.
Cassian was across the room, shirtless, drink in hand, gaze fixed on Riven with an intensity that burned.
"Who messaged you?"
Riven hesitated.
That was the mistake.
Cassian was beside him in an instant, grabbing the tablet, his eyes scanning the screen before Riven could stop him.
The silence that followed was more dangerous than shouting.
"You're still talking to him?"
"I'm not. He messaged me."
"But you didn't tell me."
Cassian's voice was too calm. His jaw too tight.
Riven took a step back. "It's not like that—"
Cassian slammed the tablet onto the table, glass cracking.
"You said he meant nothing!"
"He doesn't!"
"Then why the fuck are you protecting him from me?"
The heat shifted.
Not anger now.
But hurt.
Cassian stalked forward, backing Riven into the wall, hands braced on either side of his head.
"I'm not just fucking you, Riven. I'm loving you. Bleeding for you. Don't lie to me."
Riven swallowed. "I didn't lie. I was afraid."
"Of me?"
"No." He whispered. "Of who I was with him. Because that version of me... still wants to crawl to him when I'm scared."
Cassian's breath caught.
Then he pulled Riven close, holding him tight.
"Then we burn that version. Together."
---
Down in the dark, Silas watched from his hotel suite. Cameras. Eyes. Secrets everywhere.
He sipped his wine, smiling.
"They're already breaking. All I have to do is… whisper."