Page 97 of Cruel Deception

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Vincent’s voice echoed again:You think Luca’s bad? Cassian’s just better at hiding it

“Fuck it,” I whispered.

I wouldn’t sit still and wonder. I had to know. Even if he was watching me. Even if I was wrong. I had to act.

I walked to that wing. Straight to the ammunition room Cassian had once taken me to. I picked up a gun—then another.

I practiced with both.

Loaded. Cocked. Fired.

Again.

Again.

Again.

I worked on my aim. My grip. My breathing.

Anyone watching would think I was training to kill an enemy.

They wouldn’t know the enemy was my husband.

I would do anything for my mother. Anything.

How could she be here... suffering... and I do nothing?

My hands shook as I held the weapon. Sweat trickled down my spine, soaking the back of my shirt. My arms trembled. My heart beat like a war drum.

I trained until my fingers were raw, until the noise of gunfire rang in my skull, until I had nothing left to give. Then, breathless and drained, I returned to the room, took a long shower, and collapsed into bed.

I would search that wing tomorrow—when I was sure he wasn’t home.

The next morning, I stirred slowly. The bed beside me was cold.

He wasn’t there.

I checked a few rooms. Nothing.

Then I headed to the garage—one of the two cars was gone.

That confirmed it. He wasn’t home.

Without hesitation, I returned to the ammunition room, picked up a gun, and climbed the stairs to the top floor of the penthouse. The floor where the cell had once held the woman.

She hadn’t responded all the times I called out to her. But silence didn’t mean she wasn’t there. Not anymore.

My heart pounded as I raised the gun and shot the lock.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The sound thundered through the top floor, the recoil jolting through my arm.

Finally, the door creaked open.

I stepped in—ready.

But it was empty.

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