(Cassian POV)
The war room smelled like whiskey and gun oil.
A week had passed since the capture. A week since I'd watched my mate die. A week since the Queen vanished without a trace.
Dorian sat behind his desk, one leg crossed over the other, perfectly still except for the faint tick in his jaw and the way his thumb rolled against his index finger. That was his tell—his version of bleeding.
The report file sat unopened between us. The air buzzed with things neither of us wanted to say.
"We recovered three prisoners," I began. My voice sounded distant, even to me. "One's a doctor—high-ranking. Based on her credentials, she was part of Project Trinity. Normally, she'd be stationed at their main facility in the human city, about a hundred miles north. But according to our operatives, she was airlifted out by helicopter two nights before our raid. Location still unknown."
Dorian didn't look up. He just listened, quiet, patient, lethal.
"She won't talk," I continued. "But we found footage."
That got his attention. His gaze lifted, sharp as a blade.
I swallowed hard. "It's of Tamsin."
He didn't move, but I saw the flicker—the smallest one. The kind that hurts more because it's so controlled.
"They beat her," I said. "Until she didn't rise again." My throat tightened. "She died protecting my other mate."
Dorian's hand froze on the glass.
"Willow," I said. "She told me everything she remembered—how she got Nyx out. She doesn't know if the Queen made it."
Dorian just stared at me. No blinking. No visible emotion. Just that faint ticking in his jaw.
Then, finally, he spoke. "How are you?"
It caught me off guard. Out of everything he could've asked, that wasn't it.
"Yeah, we're friends," I said, roughly. "But this is business. This is about your mate."
He got up, grabbed two glasses, and poured the scotch he knew I liked. He set one in front of me, then lifted his own with two fingers and tossed it back.
"Drink," he said.
I didn't argue. I threw it back in one swallow. I needed that burn.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Dorian said quietly. "Tamsin was an incredible woman. And wolf."
"Yeah," I rasped. "She was."
He studied me for a long time, then asked, "How's that working with your second chance, mate? The one in the cells?"
I blinked. "Seriously? Your Queen's missing, and you're asking about my screwed-up love life?"
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. "You'd do the same for me."
He poured another round, this time sitting on the couch instead of behind his desk. I joined him. The formality of king and commander fell away; we were just two men who'd lost too much.
"I feel... torn apart," I admitted. "Half of me's still buried with Tamsin. The other half wants Willow. It feels wrong. Like betrayal."
Dorian stared at the amber liquid in his glass. "That night was strange. Two mates, one fate. Maybe the bond chose for both of you."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, Fate gave you both a second chance. Maybe it was meant for you as much as it was for her."
I let that sink in. It was ridiculous—and yet, it made sense. "She lost her mate too."
"She did," Dorian said softly. "And right now, you need each other."
Guilt hit me hard. "I didn't even think of that. How could I be so damn selfish?"
"Because you're grieving," Dorian said. "But don't let guilt ruin the chance the Goddess gave you."
I nodded slowly. "I need to get her out of that cell."
"Good," he said. "But she stays under watch."
"Where do I put her?"
Dorian arched a brow.
"Oh no," I said immediately. "You're not serious."
"The old cabin," he said. "Your parents' place. It's remote. Secure."
"And if she runs?"
He looked at me evenly. "Then you follow. She might know where my mate is."
I huffed. "Ah. So this is twofold—you want me to use the mate bond to dig for intel."
He didn't deny it. "Do what needs to be done. And if you feel guilty, tell her the truth. She saved my mate. For that, I'm grateful."
I stared at him, reading the unspoken words in his eyes: Bring her home.
Dorian downed the last of his drink and stood, voice low. "Cassian, if she's lying, I'll handle it."
I nodded. "Understood."
He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, grounding. "Life was simpler when we were single."
"Yeah," I said, managing a grim smile. "A lot less blood."
"Less heart, too," he said, walking toward the window.
And for the first time in days, I saw the faintest crack in the King's armor—grief and rage balanced on the edge of hope.