Page 95 of Cruel Deception
He just walked toward her slowly, like a man approaching a grave.
His fingers brushed over the broken glass, the shredded leather. He crouched beside the exposed engine, touching each bent piece like a surgeon examining a corpse. His hands trembled—not from fear, but restraint. Fury. Loss. Reverence.
“I named her after my grandmother,” he said finally.
His voice was so low I almost missed it.
I froze.
“I never name things,” he continued, running a knuckle down the scraped edge of the fuel tank. “But that bike... it was the only thing that made me feel like I could keep moving when I didn’t want to anymore.”
The weight of his words sank in. It wasn’t just a bike.
It was memory. Pain. Hope. The closest thing he had to faith.
“I poured five years into customizing her. Every part. Every wire. I used to ride it when the nightmares were too loud.”
He stood slowly, his fists clenched at his sides. His jaw worked as he stared at what was left of Sophia.
His voice cracked—but only slightly. “They didn’t just break her. They tried to break me.”
I didn’t know what to say.
So I didn’t say anything.
I just walked up to him and took his hand.
He didn’t look at me.
But he held on.
Tight.
Like maybe, for now, that was enough.
Cassian was still crouched over Sophia’s mangled body when a voice cut through the thick silence behind us.
“Who did this to your bike?” Marco asked, stepping forward with none of his usual arrogance.
Cassian didn’t even look at him. He simply gestured for me to follow and walked off, leaving Sophia behind like a fallen soldier.
I caught up quickly. He pulled out his phone, typing furiously. By the time we reached the stadium gates, a matte black jeep reversed toward us from the shadows. No words were exchanged. We got in.
“You’re leaving Sophia?” I asked, stunned.
“She’ll be handled.”
“Will you be able to find who did that to her?”
“I already did.”
His voice was sharp. Brutal. I turned toward him, heart stuttering. “Who?”
He looked at me then—expression blank, eyes loaded.
“Your brother.”
The words hit like a slap. A stone hurled through glass. My lips parted, but no sound came.
