Page 58 of Cruel Deception
Still nothing.
Finally, he stood. Moved to the door.
Panic flooded my chest. “Wait... you can stay.”
He paused, glanced over his shoulder, no softness in his expression.
Then he walked out.
My mouth stayed open. I didn’t even know what I wanted anymore.
He was my captor. But Vincent had said it—I’d either kill Cassian, or he’d kill me.
And one of us would be free.
Two days passed.
Cassian didn’t show. Not once. Not a single call. Not a message.
What kind of husband disappears after something like that?
Oh right—one who can lock his wife in a room crawling with her worst fears, starve her half to death, and sleep like a baby after.
By the time I was discharged, my body had recovered, but my mind was a crater. Empty. Burned out. I ordered an Uber myself—because of course, no one was coming for me—and told it to take me to my grandfather's house. If it hadn’t been sold off already, I could crash there for a while... long enough to figure out my next move. Whatever that even was.
But just as I stepped out of the hospital entrance, he was there.
Leaning against a black car, sunglasses on. Quiet. Still.
I blinked. My stomach turned. “Where’s Sophia?” I asked as he opened the car door for me.
“She’s injured. At the mechanic.”
It was the first time he’d answered anything plainly, without menace.
We drove home in silence.
The moment we entered the house, I noticed something strange.
My room was spotless. Cleaner than it had ever been. The sheets were fresh. My perfume—someone had sprayed it.
Someone had come in.
“Please,” I whispered as I looked around. “Don’t lock me up again. And can you—can you get rid of the spiders?”
Cassian didn’t even look up as he moved toward the bed. “I allowed them on purpose.”
“What?” I turned to face him, the air instantly colder. “Why? You know what they do to me. How they ruin me.”
“Yes. That’s exactly why I allowed them here.”
His tone was infuriatingly calm, as if he were telling me the weather.
“It’s just two spiders,” he added.
“I can’t even handle one,” I said, the panic rising in my voice, tears prickling. “Even a baby spider makes my skin crawl—”
“Good,” he cut in. “That means they’re doing what they’re meant to do. You’re not here to be comfortable. You’re here to unravel. Everything that breaks you, ruins you, terrifies you—I will keep it close.”
