Cassian stood in front of the mirror, fingers tugging absently at the collar of his red shirt. The fabric was soft, familiar the one Aiden had once said made his eyes look sparkling. He'd chosen it on purpose. Not for Lucian. Never for him. But for them. For the two people who'd held him together when the world tilted off its axis.
His hair refused to cooperate still damp from the shower, curling in chaotic waves around his forehead. He smoothed it back again, then stopped. What did it matter? No amount of neatness could hide the tremor in his hands or the hollow dread pooling in his stomach.
What did Lucian mean?
The question had gnawed at him all day. Not just the threats, not just the photos but that look in Lucian's eyes last night. Something raw. Something broken. Like he wasn't just playing a game. Like he was hurting. And that terrified Cassian more than rage ever could.
He exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping.
Just get through tonight. Stay close. Don't go alone.
