Chapter Twenty-Three
CASSIA
Difficult couldn’t come close to describing how I feel as I barely make it through my door before my legs give out.
The mission weight drags at my limbs, yanking me to the floor and I lean against the wall to keep from dropping.
Trembles wrack my body as I reach for my mask, desperate to welcome actual air against my skin after days of suffocation.
But I stop.
Not yet. Not until I’m certain.
Pushing myself upright, I scan my small room with frantic eyes. Nothing appears disturbed—no one has been here. At least, no one who wanted me to know.
The thought raises hairs along my arm.
I cross to the small sink in the corner and splash cold water on my mask, letting it seep through the narrow eye slit. It’s not enough, but it’s something. My reflection stares back at me from the dingy mirror. I was the perfect disguise…until now.
Elias saw me.
Elias saw me.
The memory replays in my mind with merciless clarity.
Relief washed through me as the escapees disappeared into the darkness.
Then the shadows shifted, revealing Elias standing there, observing me with those piercing hazel-green eyes.
He didn’t say a word. Didn’t raise the alarm. Just…watched. And let me go.
Why?
How many times can I ask myself that question before it makes sense? I chuckle. It will never make sense.
I whirl from the mirror. Every inch of my skin prickles and there’s a frantic pleading in my stomach, begging me to run. I don’t know what to do.
Maybe he’s waiting to gather more evidence, or he’s already reported me and they’re just building their case. Perhaps he’s toying with me, enjoying my fear before he strikes.
Or maybe he understands, a strange voice whispers. Mine, but not.
No. He couldn’t understand, and I cannot afford such hope. I have no allies here.
The bed creaks as I sit and find my notebook of lost things hidden beneath the mattress.
Not my ideal choice, but where else could I put it?
I flip the pages open, wanting—no, needing—to write anything to calm my head.
I swear to the stars it’s going to explode if I don’t lower my blood pressure soon.
Footsteps pound in the corridor, freezing me mid-thought. Heavy, purposeful strides. Not the casual walk of recruits returning to their quarters. These footsteps belong to someone with authority, who’s thoroughly angry.
No, no, no!
The steps halt outside my door.
I can’t breathe.
For one stifling moment, there’s silence.
Then the door slams open with such force it crashes against the wall, a long crack appearing on its surface. I jerk back instinctively as Arayik storms in, a hurricane in human form. His entire body radiates death—mine—as his chest heaves with thunderous breaths.
He rams the door shut behind him, the lock engaging with a click that sounds a lot like I’ll never be leaving this room again.
“Commander,” I begin, forcing my voice steady, but he cuts me off with a sharp gesture.
“No.” The single word drips with venom.
His foreboding body advances toward me, and I retreat until my back hits the furthest wall. There’s nowhere left to go. My mind races through scenarios—I could duck under his arm, aim for his knee, maybe reach the door—but I know it’s futile. He outmatches me in every way.
“I’ve watched you,” he growls, his voice dangerously low. “From the first day, something was wrong.”
My mouth goes dry. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Do. Not. Speak!” he roars, closing the distance between us in two swift strides.
Before I can react, his hand shoots out, fingers curling around the edge of my mask. With one violent motion, he rips it away from my face, the straps snapping with a sharp crack.
Cold air caresses my newly exposed skin. I gasp, the sudden vulnerability more shocking than the physical pain.
Arayik’s dark eyes widen, then narrow. “I knew it.” He stares at my face with undisguised hatred. “I fucking knew it.”
His hand moves with lightning speed, closing around my throat; he pulls me forward only to shove me back against the wall with such brutal force, I know I’ll have a concussion.
My boots scrape against the floor as he lifts me, effectively severing my air.
Panic floods my system, my hands flying up to claw at his forearm.
“You think you can fool us?” he snarls, his face inches from mine. “Pretend to be one of us?” His grip tightens, and black spots dance at the edges of my vision. “You’ll die for this.”
I struggle against his hold, pushing at his arm with all my strength, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. His muscles stiffen—he’s using his power, making himself impossibly heavy, regardless that I couldn’t fight back anyway. My arms tremble from the strain of even trying to resist.
The room darkens and narrows to a tunnel, Arayik’s rage-twisted face the only thing I can see.
This is how I die, I think distantly. Not fighting for freedom, not changing the world. Just…erased. Another woman disappeared at the hands of the Syndicate’s machinery.
The thought ignites something in me—a desperate, burning refusal.
Then the door bursts open behind him.
“Arayik, stop!” Elias’ voice cuts through the howling in my ears. “Let him” —he pauses when he notices my face before continuing— “her go!”
The Commander doesn’t turn, nor does he acknowledge the interruption. His focus is absolute, his hatred for me outweighing every other thing in his life at this moment.
“Kellen, help me!” Elias calls, and more footsteps enter the room.
The third leader appears at Arayik’s side, grabbing his shoulder and gritting his teeth as he tries to pull him away. “Arayik, that’s enough!”
But the man holding me won’t budge. They know that. His fingers dig deeper into my throat, something puncturing the side.
I can’t die…I’ve barely lived.
With the last of my consciousness, I focus inward, reaching for my empathy. It’s harder than it’s ever been—my mind clouding, control slipping—but I grasp it, heaving it to the surface with desperate strength.
I shove it outward, not in a gentle wave but in a violent surge.
Fear. Panic. Pain. All of it pouring from me into him, all raw.
Not just my current terror, but everything—the lifetime of hiding, of knowing I was hunted simply for existing.
The horror of watching other women captured, knowing what awaited them. The helplessness. The rage.
I feel the moment it slams into him, his grip faltering slightly.
If there was ever an opportunity to seize, it’s this one. I push more into him, burying it deeper. Memories of terror and grief; the crushing weight of silence in pure darkness beneath the ground. My lungs burn for air. My heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. I don’t blame it.
Arayik stumbles, his brow furrowing. His hand trembles against my throat, the pressure easing just enough for me to drag in a shallow breath.
“What are you—” he manages, but I don’t allow him to finish.
I let everything go. Every emotion I’ve ever suppressed, each piece of fear I’ve swallowed, all the rage I’ve hidden. I force it into him with all the strength I have left.
The potency of it would demolish anyone else, but Arayik remains standing.
He snarls in my face, crushing his forehead to mine. “Stop it!”
I don’t. Can’t. Instead, I surpass my limits and push harder until something inside him cracks—not physically, but a hairline fracture in his iron control.
His grip releases.
I crash to the floor, my legs unable to support me.
My chest rattles as I cough and gasp for sweet, sweet air, each breath burning my raw throat.
The room spins, sounds distorted and distant.
I’m vaguely aware of movement—Elias and Kellen grabbing Arayik, dragging him back, and pinning his arms as he fights against them with feral strength.
“She’s a female, a fucking traitor!” Arayik yells, his voice hoarse with rage. “Her insubordinate attitude should not be bred. The only option is death!”
“Shut up,” Kellen snaps, his voice sharp.
I roll to my back, shaking uncontrollably. My hands grip the tender flesh along my throat as I wheeze, sucking air through an invisible straw. Each breath is a victory.
And there is no hiding anymore—my mask is off.
Once my lungs have calmed a bit, I force both eyes open, my vision swimming into focus.
Elias and Kellen have Arayik pinned against the far wall, his struggles growing weaker as the emotional assault I unleashed continues to disorient him—I never removed the emotions, so they’ll remain until he can process them on his own.
His dark eyes find mine across the room, burning through my soul.
“There is only one way to deal with this, and you both know it.” He’s calmer now.
“That’s not your decision alone to make, Ry,” Elias says, his voice steady despite the strain evident in his posture.
Something passes between the three men—a current of understanding built on years of shared history. I watch it unfold, my mind still foggy, but sharp enough to recognize the power dynamics shifting before my eyes.
“You both agree to let her live? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Neither man holding him answers right away, but Kellen finally speaks, “Nobody is saying that. But we need to think this through—you cannot just kill a female, Ry.” All three of them glance at me. Awkward. “We will talk about this later.”
With a loud grunt, he shoves the two men away and stands to his full height. But instead of attacking me again, he turns and strides toward the door, his movements stiff.
Without a look back, he’s gone, the door slamming behind him.
The silence that follows is deafening. I force myself to sit, my back against the wall for support. My legs feel like water, my hands still trembling. I’m exposed—vulnerable in a way I haven’t been since I left home. My face bare, secret revealed.
Elias and Kellen shift to regard me, expressions unreadable behind their masks. For a long moment, no one speaks.
“How long have you known?” I ask, my voice a ragged whisper.
Elias shifts, arms crossing before he answers. “I suspected from day one that you had…other motivations for being here.” He pauses, then adds, “I did not realize you weren’t Lachlan Ashford, though.”
I nod slowly, wincing at the movement. “And you?” I ask, looking at Kellen.
“Elias told me his suspicions.” A slight head tilt. “I didn’t believe him until now.”
“What now?”
The men watch me for a moment, their eyes scrutinizing every inch of my exposed face. It’s wildly uncomfortable, but I remain still, allowing them to stare
“We’ll come back later to talk,” Kellen says, his tone making clear the discussion is done for now.
They leave me to process the aftermath of my almost-death, a sharp hiss at the door indicating it would be futile for me to try to escape this room.
What the fuck am I going to do?