Page 125 of Cruel Deception
His expression shattered. Not softened—shattered. Like I’d punched through armor he didn’t know was cracked. His jaw clenched. He looked away, and I saw the shift in him. Not anger.
Terror.
“Don’t,” he snapped, eyes flashing. “Don’t you fucking say that word. You don’t understand a damn thing.”
“I saw it in Elodie’s eyes. And I see it in you,” I said, voice low but unwavering. “You bled for her, Cassian. You burned for her. And no one came for you.”
He moved, fast and restless, pacing like something trapped. Like a caged animal trying to chew its way out.
“You shouldn’t know,” he said tightly, each word strained. “You were never supposed to know.”
“I had to,” I said, stepping closer. “Because you’re not just the man who chained me in the dark. You’re the boy who watched his mother suffer and couldn’t stop it. The boy who screamed himself hoarse while no one listened.”
“Stop,” he growled.
“I won’t.”
He turned to me sharply, rage flashing—but it wasn’t clean, wasn’t sharp. It was messy. Wild. His hands curled into fists like he didn’t know where to put all the fury shaking through him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, voice tight.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m broken,” he hissed. “Like you’re trying to understand me.”
I swallowed. “I’m not trying. I do.”
His face twisted. “You think hearing a few stories makes you know what it was like?”
“I see you, Cassian,” I said, stepping closer. “I see what it did to you. I see the boy you were. The man it made. And I’m not standing here because I pity you—I’m standing here because it hurts to see what they did to you.”
He froze. Just for a second.
Then—he shattered.
Cassian swept the glass off the desk with a roar. It shattered against the wall, and I flinched—but didn’t step back.
“I’m not her!” I shout, stepping closer, my hands trembling, my voice shaking but defiant. “I’m sorry for that pain. But I’m not Seraphina.”
“You want to know what pain is?” he growled. “Pain is kneeling beside your mother while she bleeds on the marble floor. Pain is praying for a bullet to find your own skull just so you can stop hearing her screams.”
He advanced on me now, slow, dangerous. My heart pounded.
“You think your tears mean something?” he hissed. “You think you can understand this fire in my chest that’s been burning since I was nine?”
“No,” I said, lifting my chin. “But I can stand in it with you.”
A silence fell again. Charged. Broken only by the quiet scuttling of something in the corner.
A spider.
Big. Black. Its legs tapping against the wood like fingernails.
My whole body froze. My breath caught.
Cassian’s eyes flicked to it. Then back to me. And something cruel curved in his lips.
“You’re afraid of that, aren’t you?” he asked softly.
