Chapter 3 #2
I dragged a hand through my hair and laughed once under my breath, the sound low and humorless. “Get it together, Cass,” I muttered.
But the truth lingered, as intense as the cold glass under my fingers.
I could face warlocks, rogues, and death without blinking—
yet one offhand comment from a woman I barely knew had managed to unravel me.
And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t sure which of us I wanted to fight more—her, or myself.
I sat on the edge of my bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the reflection of moonlight through the tall, narrow window. The glass cast pale bars of silver across the floorboards, and the room felt smaller than it should have—like the walls had crept closer while I wasn’t looking.
Jealousy. The word kept circling in my head like an echo that refused to fade. It wasn’t me. It couldn’t be me. I’d felt anger, pride, even longing before—but not this. Never this strange, twisting ache that burned behind the ribs, turning thought into static.
I’d faced worse things than a little emotional turmoil, but the unease unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.
A knock broke the silence.
“Cass?”
His voice was unmistakable—low, calm, carrying that quiet authority that could still unravel me faster than any battle.
“Come in,” I said, though the word felt rough.
The door opened, and Constantine stepped inside. He didn’t fill the room, exactly—he commanded it. Dressed in black, he looked as if the night itself had followed him in. The golden flicker in his eyes caught the lamplight as he shut the door behind him.
The moment his gaze found mine, his expression shifted—concern cutting through his usual mask of composure. “What’s wrong?”
I hesitated, glancing away. “Why would you think something’s wrong?”
“Because you look like you want to punch through that wall,” he said simply, stepping closer. “Talk to me.”
I tried for a smile, but it didn’t hold. “It’s nothing important.”
He gave me that look—the one that stripped away every excuse I tried to hide behind. I sighed. “Fine. It’s about Lilah.”
Something flickered in his eyes—confusion first, then a tightening of his jaw. “What about her?”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “She cornered me after you left the training hall. Started asking questions about you—what you’re like, what kind of man you are. She… made it pretty clear she’s interested.”
His brow furrowed, but his voice stayed even. “And that bothered you?”
The quiet that followed was thick. I didn’t answer, because I wasn’t sure what the truth was supposed to sound like.
He stepped closer until I could feel the familiar ripple of his energy, that quiet charge that always surrounded him like heat from a forge. “Cass,” he said softly, “Lilah isn’t serious.”
I looked up at him. “You sound sure.”
“I am.” His tone didn’t waver. “She was trying to get a rise out of you. That’s what she does—tests boundaries, looks for reactions. You’re the one she really wanted to provoke.”
My stomach twisted. “Why would she do that?”
He tilted his head slightly, studying me the way he did in combat—like he was gauging exactly how close I was to breaking. “Because she envies you,” he said. “All of them do.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “The death dealers?”
“All of them,” he said. “Especially the women. You’ve earned what most of them never will—command, trust, power. You don’t bow, you don’t flirt for favor, and you’ve got Rene’s backing and mine. That makes you a target for jealousy, Cass. Not just admiration.”
I let his words sink in, the logic undeniable—but the ache in my chest didn’t ease. “Maybe,” I said quietly, “but it doesn’t change the fact that she said what she said.”
“She said it because she wanted to see if you’d flinch,” he countered. “She thought she could unnerve you.” His voice softened. “You shouldn’t give her that satisfaction.”
I wanted to believe him. I really did. He was calm, certain, as if none of this touched him at all—and maybe it didn’t. Maybe that was what bothered me most.
I leaned back, folding my arms. “You’re probably right.”
“I usually am,” he said, a smile ghosting across his mouth.
I tried to return it, but my heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t used to this kind of vulnerability—to feeling like I’d lost control of something I didn’t even know I cared about. I’d built walls so high that nothing got through… until him. And now the cracks were starting to show.
He must have seen something in my face because his expression softened again. “Cass,” he said, stepping close enough that his voice dropped to something only I could hear, “you don’t have to be jealous.”
“I’m not,” I said quickly—too quickly.
His eyes searched mine, quiet and knowing. He didn’t press the point, but the silence said enough.
And maybe that was the worst part—because I didn’t have the right to be jealous. Not of him, not of anyone. We weren’t that. I was his partner, his ally, maybe something more in another life—but not here, not now.
He reached out, brushed his fingers lightly against my arm—a small, grounding touch that sent warmth through me. “Get some rest,” he said softly. “You’ve been through enough tonight.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure rest was possible anymore.
He turned toward the door, hesitated just long enough to look back, and for a fleeting second, I thought I saw something in his eyes—something that mirrored the same impossible emotion clawing at me. Then the moment passed.
When the door closed behind him, the silence returned, heavier than before.
I stood there a long time, staring at the imprint of his touch on my arm, and told myself the same lie I’d told a hundred times before—
that I didn’t feel a thing.