Cassian's breath came in short, ragged bursts. The name Elliot echoed in his skull like a ghost rattling chains. Memories flooded back, sharp and suffocating rain-lashed windows, the smell of mildew, the way his old shoes squeaked on wet linoleum as he ran home from school, hoping he wouldn't be there. And when he was… the silence that followed. The weight of expectation. The quiet cruelty disguised as care.
His eyes darted to the door behind him, just three steps away. He memorized the distance, the angle of the handle, and the way the lock clicked when turned. If I can just reach it -
But Lucian was still staring at his chest, fingers hovering just above the fading bruises like he owned them. Like he'd carved them there himself and was proud of it.
Cassian didn't think. He lunged.
He scrambled sideways, fingers closing around the cold metal handle, twisting it desperately
and then a brutal yank ripped him backward.
