Chapter 19 #2
Eland and Evie arrive as a pair, beautiful in entirely different directions.
Evie kisses both my cheeks, fox-bright eyes never leaving mine, and when she pulls back my wedding ring is gone.
I don’t feel it leave. Three seconds later it’s back on my finger.
I watch her take and return things all night: cufflinks, pens, a piece of chocolate from Caleb’s plate.
Eland’s suit fits like a verdict. I bet he doesn’t hate his suits. His handshake is cool, palm firm. He slides a card to the edge of my plate. “If anyone ever questions you about Cassius,” he murmurs, mimicking Adrian’s words from our first breakfast together, “call me before anyone else.”
Elsie, the third Ashenheart triplet, is a surgeon. She gives me a long, clinical once-over that somehow isn’t unkind. “You sleeping?” she asks, like she’ll prescribe rest whether I think I need it or not.
Cassius feels me tracking the quiet man skirting the walls and dips to my ear. “Mavik,” he murmurs. “Head of cyber security under Adrian. If something with a signal breathes in this city, he hears it. He’ll monitor your ring, and I’m sure also my watch.”
Cassius steers me toward a knot of leather and ink.
“Dead Man’s Hand,” he says against my hair.
“You met Dominic Estrade, the president, at Mirage” he says as he points men out.
“Vex is his vice.” He gestures to the only woman in the group.
“That’s Havoc’s girl, Graciela. And Havoc is Dominic’s enforcer. ” His hand stays heavy at my waist.
“That’s a lot of names,” I say. He squeezes my waist.
“You don’t need to remember them. You’ll never be alone with them, so I can always whisper their names to you.” He kisses my cheek seconds before Dominic catches me in a bear hug that lifts my feet.
“Cassius said you like books,” Dominic says, pressing a beautiful copy of Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe into my hands.
“Stay away from my wife,” Cassius says, releasing my hand to stand toe-to-toe with Dominic, who looks down at him, a mountain considering a storm.
“Relax,” Dominic smirks and shakes his head no to the two men at his sides.
“He will kill you bro,” Atlas says as he strolls up, laughing. “And not in a metaphorical way.”
“I’m well aware,” Dominic replies, still calm. “But he knows I’d never truly touch her.”
Vex tips his chin, grin crooked. “Like my man the Grinch, Cassius is a misunderstood anti-hero.”
Graciela bursts out laughing and everyone follows. Cassius doesn’t laugh, but his shoulders loosen. “Come on, Mrs. Ashenheart,” she says, catching my hand and spinning me under the lights until I’m breathless. Cassius’ ring and knuckles flash at the edge of every one of my turns.
We cross the floor and the party parts. It isn’t dramatic.
It’s a subtle shift, a thinning. Bodies angle, chairs nudge, a path appears.
Wherever he walks, the energy tilts, and people, powerful people, give him space.
The smiles aimed at him are polite and a shade too tight.
Their eyes dip after they meet his. Even the ones who don’t know what he is know enough to feel it.
He and his brothers built this night, and still, people keep to the edges when he passes.
It pricks something mean in me. They look at him like a warning label.
I look at him like he holds my next breath, my every breath.
I know what he is, but the way they flinch makes me want to stab them with one of these fancy ass forks.
He notices everything. If I can see the dip of eyes and the too-tight smiles, so can he.
Sadness stirs, then hardens. I straighten, lift my chin, and slide my ring hand over his chest so the diamond catches the Christmas lights.
I meet faces head-on, one by one. If they’re going to treat him like a nightmare, they can treat me like the woman who married him anyway.
Melinda would’ve smoothed it over. Lindy won’t apologize.
We come as a set. Respect him, respect me.
Fear him, and keep your distance from us both.
I spot a man lurking near a wreath. His suit is a shade too federal and his haircut looks compliant. Cassius angles us his way.
“Lindy girl,” he murmurs, thumb brushing my ring once. “This is Travis Caldwell. CIA.” He doesn’t bother with niceties. “Also the reason I walked out on our wedding night.”
“About that—” Travis starts.
“Absolutely not,” Cassius says.
Travis doesn’t flinch. “We have a window. I don’t book the schedule of these guys, Cassius.”
“I’m not going.”
“Then we’ll lose this one for a long time, maybe forever.” He lifts his hands, palms bare. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Five,” Cassius counters.
Travis’s mouth tips. “Melinda, isn’t he adorable when he negotiates?”
“Three,” Cassius says, smile gone. “And you don’t say her name.”
Travis’s gaze flicks to me, quick and bland. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mrs. Ashenheart.”
Cassius doesn’t give him the dignity of a reply. He turns, finds Adrian across the room without looking. “Adrian,” Cassius says his brother's name, repeating it until Adrian is next to him so that he could follow his voice.
“Caldwell,” Adrian greets. Then to me, “Let’s go, sister.”
Cassius’s hand settles on my hip, heavy and warm. “Stay with my brother,” he says, low enough just for me. “Three minutes.” He tips my chin up with a knuckle, lightly brushes my lips with his own, and steps away with Travis, the crowd thinning for them without being asked.
Adrian offers me a glass of water and the smallest smile.
“Don’t worry,” he says, cane resting against his knee.
But I am worried, because the next time I see Cassius he’s traded his suit for a black long-sleeved shirt, leather jacket, and dark jeans.
I watch as he pulls the gloves I just bought him from the back pocket of his pants and puts them on as he approaches me.
“You’re wearing jeans,” I say, trying to smile and failing. “Should I be worried?”
“I won’t be long.”
“You’ve said that before.” I keep my voice level. “Be safe.”
He kisses my temple. “I will always come back to you.” As he passes Havoc, I hear Travis’s name, and see a burner phone changing hands. I hate that man. From what I can tell, he only calls when he wants blood and doesn’t have the balls to spill it himself.
I try to stay. I do the eggnog, the laughter, the pretending-I-belong. But around midnight the noise starts to feel like a crowd inside my ribcage.
“I’m going to head out,” I tell Adrian when he offers to walk me to the garage. “I’m two minutes to the car. Logan will meet me downstairs.”
“Text when you’re in,” he says, not thrilled. “Cassius will murder me if you so much as trip on a curb.”
“I’ll text.” I wave off two more offers, Dominic and Graciela, and slip into the elevator.
The lower garage is freezing concrete breath and strips of white light. My car is already idling where I’m assuming Logan left it, driver’s door unlocked, heat on high. I text Adrian and Logan the same thing.
Made it to my car. All good.
Three dots from Logan. On my way—thirty seconds.
I don’t make it to thirty. The first hit comes from behind. I drop. Pain ricochets through my skull and the world goes sideways. A boot pins my back.
“You should’ve stayed invisible, sweetheart.” The voice is low. Familiar in the wrong way—like something I’ve heard once and filed under danger.
I try to scream, but a cloth rams into my mouth. Bleach. Sweat. Hands practiced in the wrong kind of work. I claw at concrete. Blood warms my lip.
Footsteps. A door. A rough zip. My phone skitters under a parked SUV. The last thing I see is the black of my new ring winking up from the floor like an eye.