One Week Later
Cassian
Grason turns the wheel, pulling off the country road and through a wide iron gate that looks more decorative than practical.
The car slows as a sprawling house comes into view. It’s all clean lines and pale wood. The kind of modern farmhouse people build because they like the idea of farming, not because they want to actually work one.
It’s big, expensive, and intentionally understated in a way that probably cost a fortune.
Grason pulls to a stop near an open garage. I get out slowly, testing my leg as my boot hits the gravel, then I take in the property.
There’s only one car parked in the garage, tucked neatly to one side, with space for two more. It could be a good sign, but I’m not willing to let my guard down.
Grason follows my gaze. “You sure it’s just Daniel?” he asks quietly.
“That’s what he told me,” I say.
Gray turns, scanning the tree line and the corners of the property like he expects trouble to announce itself. “And you’re sure William and that fucker Ken aren’t going to jump us?”
I glance at him. “No,” I say honestly. “I’m not.
” I adjust my grip on my cane. “Daniel asked me here to talk about Tansy, and he promised we’d be alone.
” I let out a tense breath as I look up at the house.
“Plus, I want to make sure that if Tansy ever wants to say goodbye or simply talk to Daniel, that the door will be open.”
“Fair.” Grason nods, and we start up the gravel driveway together, my limp more pronounced on the uneven ground. The sound of rocks crunching underfoot feels loud in the open space.
To the left of the house, there’s a wide field that should be growing something, but it’s empty. No crops. No equipment. Just churned dirt and stubborn weeds reclaiming ground that’s been ignored.
On the other side of the house, a brick silo leans in the distance.
It’s at a slight angle, old and cracked, mortar flaking away like it’s been decades since anyone actually used the damn thing.
It looks out of place next to the polished house, like a relic they didn’t bother to tear down because it fit the aesthetic well enough.
Gray notices the silo too, and his mouth tightens. “This whole place feels off,” he mutters.
“It does,” I agree, but I keep walking anyway.
I don’t know what we’re walking into; I know Daniel was the only member of Tansy’s family who didn’t make our bond scream with fear. Because of that, I’m choosing to trust him…a little.
The front door opens as I reach it.
Daniel stands there like he’s been waiting, hand on the knob, posture a little too ready. He looks past me, scanning the yard, then the driveway and the line of trees beyond us, before his attention finally settles on my face.
“Cassian,” he says quietly. “Thank you so much for coming here. You made good time.”
“You said 9 a.m.”
His mouth tightens as he nods. “Yes, but it was a long drive. I figured traffic and road conditions,” he rambles. “I thought you might be a little late.” He steps back and gestures inside. “Please, come in.”
I don’t move. I plant my cane, hold his gaze. “If this is a setup,” I tell him evenly, “if William or Ken are inside, waiting for us, we’re going to have a problem.”
Daniel lifts both hands slowly, palms out.
“This isn’t a trick. I swear.” He glances past me at Grason, then lowers his voice.
“I asked you here because everyone’s gone.
William took Renee to see our son. Out of state.
They won’t be back until late tonight. And Ken is running errands. He’ll be gone for a few hours.”
“Why not suggest meeting somewhere in town?” Grason asks evenly, but there’s a wariness under it, his shoulders squared and his gaze fixed on Daniel’s face. ”Why do you need us to meet you here?”
“I can’t,” Daniel says with a defeated sigh. “I already told your alpha.” He glances at me.
“Leaving the house by myself would raise too much suspicion.”
Grason frowns, clearly not believing that. “Seriously? You aren’t allowed to even go for a drive?”
“No,” Daniel says, like it hurts to admit it. “William runs a tight house.”
It takes everything in me not to laugh, because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like William runs anything at all. The pack alpha clearly gets off on controlling everyone in his pack, then tries to pass it off as discipline.
But I bite back a bitter thought, focusing on what’s important. “Okay. Let’s talk.”
“Yes, please.” Daniel steps aside quickly, relief flickering across his face before he schools it back into something contained.
I cross the threshold with Gray right behind me, every instinct sharp and watchful.
The house smells expensive. Lemon oil and something clean layered over this pack’s various scents.
Wide-plank floors stretch out beneath our feet, pale and perfect, not a scuff or dent in sight. The space opens straight into a living room with vaulted ceilings and exposed beams that look hand-hewn but aren’t.
A massive sectional sits centered on a thick woven rug, pillows arranged too neatly to ever have been used. Low windows line one wall, framing the fields outside like little paintings.
Everything here is curated to look warm without actually being lived in.
“Please,” Daniel motions to the couch, “sit.”
I stay firmly in place. But Gray peels off, moving to the windows without a word. He plants himself there, arms crossing as he scans the property, eyes sharp, head turning in slow sweeps as he keeps watch.
Daniel notices, but pretends not to.
“How’s Tansy?” he asks, the question coming out fast, like he’s been holding it in. “Is she…okay?”
“She’s fine,” I say, but I don’t give him anything more. “Is that all you wanted to know? Because you could have asked that on the phone.”
Daniel nods, swallowing. “I want to see her.” He finally looks me in the eye. “I just want to talk to her one more time. To explain myself.”
“Not happening,” I say simply. “Your pack has done enough.”
Daniel’s brows knit. “She’s my daughter.”
“And she’s my omega,” I reply evenly. “And my answer is no.”
His jaw tightens. “Cass, I’m not asking to take her anywhere. I just want to see her. Five minutes. Ten max.”
“No,” I bark, challenging the fucker directly.
Daniel’s body reacts on instinct. His shoulders draw back, spine straightening, bristling at my tone. His scent spikes sharp for half a second, then it collapses fast.
He doesn’t bare his teeth or push back. He stills, hands curling at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to make himself smaller, eyes dropping a fraction in a way that tells me everything I need to know.
He’s an alpha, but a lower-tier one. Conditioned to yield. Beaten down by years of stronger men.
It’s pathetic.
“Cass,” he says, quieter now, careful. “You can’t seriously think that cutting her off from her family is the right thing to do.”
“You don’t get to tell me what my mate needs,” I warn.
Daniel exhales, clearly frustrated. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then choose your words better,” I say. “Because I didn’t come here to negotiate.”
He goes still, hands folding together like he’s bracing himself. “Then why are you here?”
“Because Tansy regrets not saying goodbye to you,” I tell him.
“Goodbye?” Daniel echoes, the word landing heavy. His shoulders slump, grief flickering openly across his face before he reins it in. Then his eyes lift again, fragile hope slipping through the cracks. “But…she does want to talk to me?”
“She might,” I say, my voice hard and level. “And if she does, you will not say a fucking word.”
Daniel stills completely.
“You don’t get to explain shit,” I continue. “If Tansy chooses to speak to you,” I step closer, making sure he hears every syllable, “you will listen to whatever she has to say, you will thank her for saying it, then you will never hear from her again. Do I make myself clear?”
Daniel’s hands tremble before he fists them together. “I would never hurt her,” he says quietly. “I’ve always been her sanctuary. Someone—”
A growl tears out of me, low and ugly. “She never should’ve needed a sanctuary from her own fucking family!”
Daniel flinches as the sound hits him right in the chest.
“You don’t get to stand there and claim to have been her safety,” I continue, my voice rough with rage. “Not when the danger was living under the same roof. Not when every one of you chose silence over protecting her.”
His mouth opens again, but I cut him off.
“Your pack is vicious,” I say flatly. “Horrible. The only thing you taught Tansy was how to survive the people who were supposed to love her. You call yourself a sanctuary because it makes it easier to live with yourself.”
Daniel’s eyes burn, wet and hollow, but he doesn’t argue. He can’t.
“She learned to make herself small in your house,” I go on. “To disappear. To expect pain and judgment. And every single one of you let it happen.” I step closer, forcing the asshole to look at me. “She’s finally learning what it feels like to be safe. And I won’t let you ruin that.”
Daniel’s shoulders cave inward, my words finally breaking him.
Good.
“I know,” he whispers, then he bows his head, submitting to my anger. “I know you won't believe me, but I tried to leave so many times.”
I narrow my eyes, listening.
“I wanted to take Tansy with me.” He looks up, his eyes glassy. “But I wasn’t the pack alpha. The courts wouldn’t have given her to me. Not if Renee didn’t want to come with me. And I knew she’d never leave Will and Ken.”
My anger simmers, but I let him talk.
“She was bound to them in a way she never was to me,” Daniel continues. “Even after everything.” His voice cracks. “I told myself I was protecting her by staying.”
I lean on my cane, letting the solid wood hold me in place. “So you thought it was better to endure what Ken did to her? You never once tried to stop him.” It’s not a question.
Daniel flinches, his face pale. “I mean, it’s not like he did it in front of me.”
I snarl at his pathetic excuse, baring my teeth.