Chapter 1 #3
“No, Allegra,” Cassian says, and I turn to him. He appears entertained. It’s better than annoyed, right? “Stay,” he says, and I know I won’t be walking out the door without his permission. No one will.
“I said go!” Michael grabs my arm once more and is about to shove me toward the door when Cassian’s hand closes over his wrist.
I look at the two of them, not sure how Cassian got to us without my noticing. I take in the expression on his face, his eyes more hard steel than beautiful blue now, nothing about him casual anymore.
He’s not playing, but he never was. What I see clear as day is his fury, his utter rage.
Michael’s grip on me tightens momentarily then it’s gone and Cassian steps between me and my brother, shielding me from Michael’s view.
“Aren’t you the big man raising a hand to your sister? What is she, half your size?” Cassian asks.
Michael’s face contorts with pain, and I realize what Cassian is doing.
“Stop!” I call out, because he’s bending Michael’s wrist backward. When I grip Cassian’s forearm, a soldier’s pulls me away. “Stop! You’re going to break his wrist!”
I watch, stunned at this violence, although I shouldn’t be.
All my life I’ve lived with violence. As much as my father tried to shield me from it, ultimately, I wasn’t safe.
I’ve always known what we are, and I know first-hand what we and our enemies are capable of.
I am confronted with the evidence of it every time I look at my hand.
My brother is driven to his knees and a moment later, I hear the strange, sickening snap of bone followed by Michael’s wail of pain.
When Cassian drops Michael’s wrist, I know it’s broken. Michael cradles it with his other hand. Cassian leans his face close to my brother’s. “Daddy teach you that?” he asks darkly, voice low and controlled.
Cassian Trevino shifts his gaze to me. When he sees the soldier’s grip on my arms, all it takes is a narrowing of his eyes for the man to release me. I rush toward Michael, but Cassian extends his arm and blocks my path without touching me. He’s all quiet authority.
“Leave him,” he says, cobalt eyes locking with mine.
“He’s hurt!”
“No worse than he deserves.”
I try to get past him, but he wraps his arm around my middle, big hand closing around my waist. It’s warm, his grip strong but not painful. He’s so close I smell his aftershave, and I know it’s a scent I will always associate with this strange, new sensation deep in my belly.
His eyes search my face before moving to the spot Michael grabbed me.
I close my hand over it and step backward, out of reach, the heat of his touch burning.
I look away from him to my brother, to the men gathered, soldiers watching the one who just broke my brother’s wrist, waiting for instruction.
This man who brought my brother to his knees.
I see how big he is, bigger than Michael.
Commanding. And more powerful in every way.
I clear my throat. “My father did not teach him that,” I say quietly. It’s all I can say.
Cassian watches me. He’s taking in every emotion that crosses my face.
“No?” he asks. I shake my head, feeling defensive of my father. “Then you didn’t know Alaric Moretti very well. Sit.” He points to the chair closest to me and turns to one of his men. “Enzo, get Lombardi in here, will you?”
Enzo nods and leaves to do as he’s told.
Cassian turns back to me. “I told you to sit, Moth.”
I swallow, slide into the chair because I’m not sure my legs won’t buckle under his gaze. My heart’s frantic pounding slows to a thudding, the only other sound that of my brother’s whimpers.
Cassian crosses the room to pick up his whiskey and swallows the contents of the glass.
The casual elegance of earlier is gone. He’s furious and he’s barely able to cloak his rage.
He broke Michael’s wrist to punish him for hurting me, but he’s no knight in shining armor.
Cassian Trevino is a brutal man and I know what brutal men are capable of.
Michael’s face is flushed and sweat dots his hairline. When the door opens, I realize the music in the outer room has stopped. It’s silent. Too silent for the number of people out there unless Cassian has cleared the house. I guess he wouldn’t want witnesses.
Panic has me gripping the armrests. Amal and Daniel are upstairs, asleep in their beds. Malek moved into the house with his children after dad died claiming it was at Michael’s request. What will they wake to in the morning? A bloodbath? Will they wake at all?
Cassian walks to the wall of photos again.
“Where are Lombardi’s children?” he asks as if having read my mind. “They live here now, I believe?”
When neither of us answers, he looks over his shoulder at me, eyebrows raised.
“They’re not part of this,” I say, knowing how far this can go.
He faces me fully. “Not the question I asked. Where are they?”
I look to Michael but he’s too focused on his hand.
“Allegra,” Cassian calls. “Eyes on me.”
I turn back to him. “Please,” I say.
“Where are they?”
I wipe the tears that fall from my eyes. “Asleep.”
“I doubt that,” he mutters.
“Whatever is going on, they’re not—”
“Upstairs then,” he says, tilting his head toward the door.
A soldier moves and I leap to my feet, ready to blockade the door with my body, but the look in Cassian’s eyes glues my feet to the carpet.
“Daniel is five!” I call out.
“Sit down, Allegra. I’m not going to tell you again.”
“Whatever you’re going to do—”
“You’re not helping them.” He gestures to the chair behind me.
I drop onto the edge of the seat, gripping the armrests to anchor myself.
“Better.” He looks at one of the soldiers. “Make sure they stay up there.”
The man nods.
“They’ll be scared,” I plead. Cassian turns to me, watching me intently. “Please.”
“Wait at the top of the stairs,” he tells the man, then turns to me. “Try not to scare them,” he adds, but it feels more like he’s taunting me than anything else.
The soldier walks out and a moment later, Malek strides in.
He’s not being forced. When he sees us, he appears surprised.
It’s an act. I know it. But if he’s panicked, he’s not showing it.
He’s better at concealing his true self than Michael ever was.
He smiles, even, as if Cassian were an old friend.
He takes in the room, Michael on his knees, me in the chair with my fingernails digging half-moon shapes into the leather.
When Malek faces Cassian, I understand something.
This is not necessarily bad for Malek. Whatever my brother did, this will pave the way for him to take control of what’s left of this family.
Isn’t that what he’s always wanted? Isn’t that why dad took more and more distance from him over the last year?
A soldier closes the door.
“Cassian. What brings you here?” Malek asks.
Cassian’s eyebrows rise, surprised but bored, as if Malek’s reaction isn’t wholly unexpected. “Don’t play me for a fool, Malek.”
Malek’s lips pull into a tight line, and he draws a deep breath in. He knows exactly what’s brought Cassian Trevino into our home.
“Here’s what going to happen,” Cassian says, hands in his pockets, the glint of metal just visible where his jacket is pushed back.
“You,” he says, turning pointedly to Michael.
He’s got that rage under control again, his brutality hidden beneath a very thin layer of control. “Cost me four million dollars.”
My mouth falls open, my heart thudding so hard I’m not sure I’m hearing right over the blood pumping in my ears.
“You’re going to pay it back. With interest that will double it. By the end of next week.”
Michael’s jaw tightens.
“Now, Cassian, you know that won’t be possible,” Malek says, moving to the armchair across from mine and taking a seat, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. “We don’t have access to that kind of money. When Alaric died—”
“No?” Cassian asks, cutting him off. He takes in Malek’s casual stance.
He doesn’t like it. Not one bit. “That’s a problem you’ll need to solve then, isn’t it?
You are the brains behind the family now that Alaric’s gone, aren’t you?
Michael here is lucky it’s just his wrist I broke.
It’s a preview of what will come if I don’t have my money by the end of next week.
” He glances at Michael when he says this, disdain in his tone.
“Cassian, be reasonable,” Malek says.
“Reasonable? Maybe Michael is too stupid to know, but you certainly aren’t, Malek. We’ve danced this dance before. It didn’t end well for the Moretti family then. It won’t end well for you now.” I wonder what he’s talking about when he steps toward Malek and kicks his foot. “Get the fuck up.”
Malek’s face darkens, but he’s no fool. He’s in dangerous territory and he knows it.
He gets up. He’s about four inches shorter than Cassian. He’s always the shortest man in the room and he’s always hated the fact. Cassian steps even closer, towering over him as if he knows it.
“You disrespect me,” Cassian says.
“Unintentional,” Malek says through clenched teeth.
“Can you do the math, Malek, or do you need a fucking calculator?” Cassian asks.
“Michael is inexperienced.”
“And that’s why you’re to guide him. Isn’t that the way of things? End of next week. Understood?”
Malek clenches his jaw. Cassian raises an eyebrow and Malek nods tightly once.
“Good.” Cassian steps toward the door and I think he’s going to leave.
I can almost breathe again. But he stops and turns to look at me.
Something in the way his eyes narrow and darken sends a strange, unfamiliar flush of heat through me.
There’s fear. That I recognize. But there’s something else.
Something different beneath that fear. My hands grow clammy and sweat pools under my arms. I swear I can hear the thudding of my heart against my chest.
“I’ll need collateral in the meantime,” he says, both hands in his pockets now, jacket pushed back over that too-broad chest, a tattoo I hadn’t noticed earlier creeping up from beneath the collar of his shirt, ink along the side of his neck.
“Collateral?” Malek asks. I feel his and Michael’s eyes on me, but I can’t look away from Cassian. He’s got me trapped with those electric eyes.
“Collateral,” he says, and gestures to the soldier closest to me who understands his meaning and closes his hands over my arms. “Gently,” Cassian reprimands.
“Sir,” the soldier responds, his grip no gentler, and I’m pulled to my feet.
“What?” I ask, although I know, don’t I? I know what he means. What sort of collateral he’ll take. The place where my little finger used to be throbs. Panic washes through me. I force a deep breath in and tell myself to stay calm. This isn’t like that. It’s nothing like that.
“Put her in the room adjacent to mine.”
“Yes sir.”
“Cassian, be reasonable,” Malek starts, but Cassian isn’t reasonable. “I hardly think you need to take Allegra.”
“Wait!” I cry out but no one is listening to me. “You can’t!” I struggle to get free of the soldier but it’s no use. “Wait!”
Cassian comes to stand inches from me.
I crane my neck to look over his shoulder at my brother on his knees, Malek watching. Calculating.
Cassian takes hold of my jaw and makes me look at him. “They can’t help you, Little Moth.”
“Let me go!”
“Are you going to give me trouble?”
“You can’t just take me!”
“No? Do you prefer I take the little one sleeping upstairs? I wouldn’t want to scare him,” he says mockingly.
“You can’t do this!”
“Dignity, Allegra. It’s something your father had but your brother sadly did not inherit.” At the mention of my father I begin to wonder again at the accident that was too unbelievable. Was he killed? Was it this man, Cassian, who killed him? He had enemies. Many enemies. I know.
Cassian must feel the shift in me and softens his grip. “Better. I’ll ask you again, although I’m getting tired of repeating myself with you. One way or another, you’re coming with me. Are you going to give me trouble or are you going to walk out of here with your dignity intact?”
I shake my head then nod.
He raises his eyebrows as if he doesn’t understand my response.
“You’ll leave Amal and Daniel alone?” I ask.
“Are you bargaining with me?” He cocks his head. “Because you’re in no position—”
“I’ll go with you! Just leave them alone!”
His eyes gleam with amusement. He’s enjoying this. But when he raises a hand, I flinch. Instinct. He doesn’t miss it. He takes a moment, turning his palm to me as if to say he won’t hurt me, but he will. I’ve danced this dance before too.
But then he does something strange. He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear, carefully, almost reverently. He leans close to me and is he inhaling my scent?
“I like a little fight, a little fire,” he starts, and that gentle hand at the back of my head morphs into something else.
Fingers weave into my hair turning into a fist and my head is tugged backward.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to look away as he takes in my features.
“Just know that I will always win, Moth.”
I open my mouth to retort, to say something, I’m not sure what, but he tugs, and I shut it again.
“If she gives you any trouble,” he starts, and although he’s looking at me, he’s very clearly talking to a soldier. “Put her in the crypt.”
The crypt? Where the hell are we going?
“Yes, sir.”
He leans toward me, his face so close I feel the scratch of stubble along my cheek as he brings his mouth to my ear.
“I wouldn’t give them an excuse,” he whispers darkly.
He straightens, releasing my hair, my scalp tingling.
I stare up at him, hating him, hating his dominance, his power over me, but knowing to keep my mouth shut.
But before we go, before I’m taken out of that room, he does something strange. He wraps his arms around me.
I’m confused, but then, a moment later, I realize what he’s doing when I feel a tugging, a snapping.
The wings. He’s broken them off.
He looks down at the delicate vellum wings in his hands then back at me. The grin he gives me sends ice down my spine and when I wrap my arms around myself at the sudden cold, he seems satisfied.
“Take her,” he commands.