Page 101 of Cruel Deception
Seconds later, I heard the heavy steps. I ran to the front door and flung it open.
Vincent walked in, flanked by two men who reeked of smoke, violence, and death. Tattoos coiled up their necks. One of them, the taller one, pushed me aside with no care.
“Hey!” I gasped, nearly stumbling.
“Respect my sister,” Vincent warned.
“I came here to clean up your mess for pennies. Don’t talk to me about respect,” the tall Brazilian man snapped, his accent thick and cruel.
“I’m sorry,” Vincent said quickly. “I needed help fast. I hired them to clean up Cassian.”
Clean him up? Like he’s garbage?
Like he never meant anything?
I followed them numbly, like a ghost. The shorter Brazilian man cracked his knuckles and asked, “So where the fuck is the body?”
I walked ahead... then froze.
The blood was still there—thick, red, real.
But Cassian’s body was gone.
“What—he was just here!” My voice cracked as I spun in place, searching wildly.
“Is this a fucking joke?” the short one snapped. “Is your sister screwing with us, Vincent? You think we came here to play hide and seek with a corpse?”
“Charlotte...” Vincent’s tone shifted to panic. “You said you shot him?”
“In the heart,” I whispered, still staring at the floor like it would explain something.
“In the heart? Then he’d still be here. No way he moved far.”
Vincent turned to the men. “I’ll increase your pay. Ten percent. Find him. Finish him off.”
My heart dropped.
“No!” I rushed forward, grabbing Vincent’s arm. “If he’s still alive—if he’s breathing—we can make him talk. We can find out where mother is!”
“Cassian’s dangerous, Charlotte. He’s survived bullets before. He’s too smart, too connected. He’ll come back for us. It’s better to finish it.”
“No, Vincent! I don’t want him dead!”
He stared at me. “You didn’t fall for him, did you?”
“I—I don’t know,” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes. “But I don’t want him dead. Please...”
I took a shaky step back, my voice barely holding together.
“I know what he’s done... but I also know what he’s saved me from. What he’s saved you from.” I looked him dead in the eye.
“That mission our father sent you on—the one where all your men died—Cassian let you walk away. He could’ve let the enemies kill you, but he stepped in and saved you. He let you come home alive, Vincent. He saved your life.”
My voice cracked.
“I owe him more than I ever owed you.”
Something shifted in Vincent’s expression. His jaw clenched, and for a flicker of a second—just a second—his eyes softened. Guilt. Or maybe shame.
