Chapter 26 Angie
ANGIE
Cassian has fallen into one of his silences again, the kind that weighs thicker than the storm outside, the kind that makes the air between us hum with unspoken things.
He sits near the hearth, shoulders bent forward, his broad hands braced on his knees as though bracing himself against a tide I cannot see.
The firelight paints his scars in sharp relief, those pale ridges across his knuckles and forearms catching the glow, reminding me that every mark tells a story he doesn’t share easily.
I should leave him to it. That’s what he thinks, anyway, that his shadows are his alone to bear. But shadows stretch, they spill onto everyone near, and I refuse to sit quietly while his darkness eats him alive.
My gaze strays to the drawer across the room, the one I know holds the Seal.
I’ve seen him take it out twice now, both times as if it might bite, both times his expression so torn I ached just watching.
He shoved it away like it burned, like the very sight of it demanded too much.
I can feel its weight even with it hidden, like a pulse under the floorboards, like a secret heartbeat out of rhythm with the rest of the world.
I move quietly, the floor creaking in a way that makes Cassian glance up. His eyes catch mine, sharp and unreadable, and I smile as if I’m only fetching water from the counter. He studies me a long beat, then looks back to the fire, lost again in whatever war he’s waging behind his stoic mask.
When I’m certain he isn’t watching, I crouch by the drawer.
My fingers hesitate on the wood, because I know this is breaking a rule he has not spoken but lives by.
Still, curiosity is a fire I have never been able to tame, and something about that Seal calls to me, a whisper I can’t ignore.
I slide the drawer open, just enough to see the glint of faint light.
It isn’t metal, though it shines as if hammered from starlight. The crimson glow within it shifts, slow and alive, like an ember that refuses to die. My hand trembles as I reach for it, the air growing colder the closer I get, until my breath fogs in the room though the fire still burns bright.
When my fingertips brush its surface, the world drops away.
I don’t see the cabin. I don’t see Cassian.
I don’t even see myself. I’m standing in a field I don’t recognize, snow churned red with blood, the sky thick with smoke that burns my lungs.
Shapes move in the haze, some human, some far larger, claws flashing, teeth tearing, the sound of rage shaking the ground itself.
Wolves snarl and bears roar, hawks scream as their wings slash through air thick with arrows.
Men with rifles fire blindly, their panic as sharp as their bullets, and still the tide of beasts doesn’t stop.
The Seal burns in my palm, the glow flaring until I can see the outline of a figure in the smoke. Roman, his face cold, his eyes lit with triumph as he watches the chaos unfold like a man admiring his own masterpiece. His voice slithers through the din, though his lips don’t move.
This is the world he belongs to. And you chose him. You chose war.
I gasp and stumble back, my hand wrenching away from the Seal as if it really did burn me. The drawer bangs shut under the force of my retreat. I’m clutching my chest, my lungs refusing to fill, the room spinning until I hear my name.
“Angie.” Cassian’s voice is sharp, the sound of command and fear knotted together. He’s on his feet in a heartbeat, his hands gripping my arms, steadying me as though I might collapse. “What happened?”
I shake my head, trying to clear the haze, but the vision clings like smoke in my lungs. “I saw… Cassian, I saw them. Shifters tearing each other apart, humans caught in the crossfire, blood everywhere. Roman was there, watching, waiting. And the Seal… it showed me all of it.”
His expression darkens, every line of his face carved deeper. “You touched it.”
“I couldn’t help it,” I admit, my voice trembling. “It felt like it was calling, like it wanted me to see.”
He pulls away, pacing, his jaw tight. “The Seal is not meant for human hands. It was forged to bind us, to keep balance among the Pact. If it showed you war, then…” He stops, his fists clenching. “Then the Pact is closer to breaking than I feared.”
I step forward, catching his wrist before he can retreat further into himself. “Cassian, you can’t pretend anymore. You said it yourself: Roman knows too much, the Pact is stirring. What I saw isn’t some nightmare. It’s coming. And they need you. We need you.”
His eyes drop to where my hand grips his wrist, small and pale against the strength of him, and for a long moment he doesn’t speak.
Then his voice comes rough, low, the kind of tone that makes the air heavier.
“You should not have that power. You’re human.
The Seal should have ignored you. And yet it showed you what even I have not seen. ”
I squeeze tighter, refusing to let him pull away. “Maybe that means I’m not just some outsider dragged into your world. Maybe it means I’m part of this too.”
He looks at me then, really looks, and I can see the battle in his eyes. The alpha in him wants to deny it, to keep me small and safe, tucked away from war. But the man in him, the one who has already let me inside, knows that safety was lost the day we met under the Arctic moon.
He exhales, the sound closer to a growl. “You don’t understand what you’ve tied yourself to, Angie. The south is not mercy. The Pact is not unity. It is old scars and broken vows, and walking back into it may destroy what little peace I still hold.”
“Then let it destroy the peace,” I fire back, my voice trembling but steady with conviction.
“Because peace without truth isn’t peace at all.
You said once you couldn’t promise me safety.
I don’t want safety, Cassian. I want you.
All of it. Beast, man, shadow. And I’ll walk into that war if it means I’m at your side. ”
His chest rises and falls, slow and heavy, as though he’s carrying more than his body should.
He raises a hand, brushing his thumb along my jaw, the touch tender despite the storm in his gaze.
“You saw a war because it is coming. And if it comes, I cannot stay here. I cannot keep pretending exile is enough. I will go south. I will face what waits.”
My throat tightens, but I nod, because the choice was never mine alone—it was ours the moment we stopped pretending I was just a journalist and he was just a ghost in the snow. “Then we go together.”
He doesn’t answer with words. He leans down, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm despite the chill that creeps into the cabin. In that silence, I hear his vow as clear as if he spoke it aloud.
And beneath it all, I feel the Seal, still hidden in the drawer, still pulsing with its strange heartbeat, waiting.