Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Can't answer.
Because admitting the truth means admitting she's right about everything else.
“Fine,” Toren says finally, slowly moving off of Cas. “But if you kill him, you'll have to live with knowing I was right about you. That you're not the monster. You're just a coward who couldn't face his own humanity.”
The words land like physical blows.
She stands and carefully makes her way toward the edge of the ice, her eyes never leaving mine.
I watch her go, then turn my attention back to Cas, who's lying on the ice bleeding and broken but still managing to hold my gaze.
“How did she get to you?” I ask quietly.
Cas hesitates, then his face crumples—not with pain from his injuries, but with something deeper. Something raw.
“KennaDee,” he rasps, and the name is like a confession torn from his soul.
I go completely still.
KennaDee. Toren's best friend. The girl who died in the crash with Em, Miles, and Neave.
“She knew about KennaDee,” Cas continues, his voice breaking. “Knew that I was in love with her because of Kellan. Knew that I wouldn’t stop trying to find out the truth about that night.”
My blood runs cold.
“What?” The word comes out barely above a whisper.
“I was supposed to be there,” Cas gasps, tears mixing with the blood on his face. “That night. KennaDee asked me to come with them, I turned her down because I wanted to stay with the team and told her I would catch them back at the house.”
He swallows hard, the pain in his eyes having nothing to do with his broken bones.
“But she never made it back. And then she was dead. And no one could tell me why. The official report said drunk driving, but Toren said she was fine. She was the designated driver that night. She always was.”
Understanding crashes over me like ice water.
“Fiona had the real accident report,” I say slowly.
“Yes.” Cas's voice is hollow. “She had dashcam footage. She had the toxicology reports that were buried thanks to Meekan and Steven. She had everything. And she offered me a deal—feed her information on you, and she'd give me the truth about what really happened to KennaDee.”
“So you sold me out for a dead girl,” I say flatly.
“I sold you out for answers!” Cas roars, then immediately regrets it as pain lances through his broken ribs.
“I needed to know, Xaden. I needed to know if KennaDee's death was an accident or if someone killed her.
If Masen was already killing people back then.
If there was something I could have done to save her if I'd just been there.”
His voice cracks completely.
“I loved her,” he whispers. “I fucking loved her and I never got to tell her. She died thinking I didn't care enough to show up for her when it mattered. And I've spent every day since then wondering if things would have been different if I'd just been there.”
The raw honesty in his voice guts me.
Because I understand.
Lucifer help me, I understand.
I've spent two years doing the same thing—wondering if I could have saved Em if I'd been there. If I'd made different choices.
If I'd seen the signs earlier.
“What did Fiona tell you?” I ask, my voice rough.
“That it wasn't an accident of sorts,” Cas says quietly. “That Toren was drunk and lost control, killing KennaDee, Neave, Miles and your sister.”
The words hang in the air like a death sentence.
“Did you believe her?” I demand.
“I didn't have a choice!” Cas's voice breaks again. “She had evidence, Xaden. Real evidence. Not speculation or theories—actual fucking proof of what happened the night the girl I loved died. What was I supposed to do? Ignore it?”
I want to rage at him. Want to tell him he should have come to me. Should have trusted me with the truth.
But I can't.
Because if someone had offered me proof about who killed Emery, I would have burned the world down to get it.
I have burned the world down trying to find it.
“You should have told me,” I say, but the anger has drained from my voice. “The moment she made contact. We could have worked together to get the information.”
“She came to me before I came to Stormsend,” Cas says hoarsely.
“She promised to give me the accident report if I could get valuable intel on your family, she strung me along. She never said Toren wasn’t driving but she told me someone else was involved in the crash.
She fed me enough intel to keep me coming back until I stopped. ”
I look at him—really look at him—and see not just my betrayer, but someone who's been carrying the same grief and guilt I have.
Different victims. Same pain.
“Why’d you stop?” I ask quietly.
“You,” he breathes out. “Nearly a year of feeding her useless information and she never gave me anything. I knew she was full of shit. Kellan kept going back to her, thinking that if he gave her everything she wanted that she would agree to grant Terror immunity as well. I stopped taking her calls and showing up to meets. I learned being loyal to you and having you as a brother meant more than chasing the ghost of my past I needed to let go of.”
“She played you,” I say flatly.
“I know.” Cas closes his eyes. “I fucking know. But by the time I realized it, it was too late. She had proof of everything I'd given her. One word from her and I'd be as good as dead. So I kept feeding her scraps, in the hopes she wouldn’t rat me out.”
He opens his eyes and looks at me.
“I never wanted to betray you, Xaden. You're my brother. My best friend. But I loved KennaDee. And the chance to know what really happened to her—to know if she suffered, if she was scared, if there was something I could have done—I couldn't let that go. I didn’t know the real you at the time I made the deal. If I did, I never would have signed that fucking dotted line and sold my soul to that cunt.”
The silence that follows is heavy with all the things we can't say.
I should kill him. By every rule I live by, every code I follow, he deserves death for his betrayal.
But I can't.
Because looking at him now, I don't see a traitor.
I see a reflection of myself.
Someone who loved and lost.
Someone who's been consumed by the need for answers.
Someone who made terrible choices trying to find peace in the only way they knew how.
“Get him out of here,” I say finally, my voice hollow. “Take him to Doc. Patch him up.”
“Boss—” Gyle starts.
“Then lock him in the basement at the house,” I continue. “No visitors. No phone calls. No contact with anyone except me until I decide what to do with him.”
I crouch down next to Cas, my voice dropping to something only he can hear.
“You're alive because I understand,” I say quietly. “Because I would have done the same thing if someone had offered me answers about my sister. Because grief makes us do stupid, destructive things.”
I stand back up.
“But make no mistake—you're dead to me. The brother I knew wouldn't have lied for a year. Wouldn't have fed my enemy information. Wouldn't have let me torture the wrong people while staying silent. That person is gone.”
Cas nods, understanding washing over his bloody face.
“You're going to help me destroy Fiona Williams. You're going to tell me every dead drop, every contact, every piece of information you gave her. And then we're going to use it to dismantle her entire operation.”
“And after?” Cas asks quietly.
“After?” I look down at him. “After, we'll see if you're more useful alive or dead.”
It's not forgiveness.
It's not even close.
But it's not immediate execution either.
I turn away as Gyle and two others carefully lift Cas off the ice, his groans of pain echoing through the rink.
Toren is still here standing at the edge, watching me with those unreadable eyes. Sneaky little bitch, I thought she left.
“Happy?” I call out to her. “He lives. You got your way.”
“This isn't about getting my way,” she says quietly. “This is about you choosing who you want to be.”
“I know exactly who I am,” I counter.
“Do you?” She tilts her head. “Because the man who just spared Cas's life, who listened to his reasons instead of just killing him, looks a lot different than the monster you keep insisting you are.”
I don't have an answer for that.
So I do what I do best, I shut down.
“Get out,” I say flatly. “Before I change my mind about all of this.”
Carnage appears at her side, his hand on her elbow, ready to guide her away.
She turns and leaves, Carnage supporting her as they exit the rink.
When I'm finally alone—just me and the blood staining the ice—I sink to my knees and let the mask drop.
Cas loved KennaDee.
He's been carrying that grief the same way I've been carrying mine.
And Fiona weaponized it. Twisted it. Used it to turn my best friend against me.
The darkness is still there.
Still pulling.
Still whispering that I should have killed him anyway.
But I didn't.
Because for the first time in two years, I'm starting to understand something.
We're all just broken people trying to survive our grief in whatever way we can.
Some of us torture.
Some of us betray.
Some of us push away everyone who tries to love us.
But underneath it all, we're just scared and alone, desperate for answers that might never come.
And maybe—just maybe—that makes us human.
Not monsters.
Just... human.
And I don't know if that realization makes things better or worse.