CASSIAN

I drove the car myself. Julian sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the city lights as they blurred past the window. Our backup followed in the car behind us. No one spoke. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

The silence lasted twelve minutes. I didn’t push him. I knew Julian. I had studied him for years, watching the way he breathed and the way he moved until I knew his rhythms better than my own.

"I caused trouble for you, didn’t I," he said finally. His voice was quiet, directed at the glass. It wasn’t a question. He had already done the math.

"It’s handled," I said.

He made a small sound that might have been a laugh if he weren’t so tired. "Yeah," he whispered. "Sure."

"Julian—"

"I’m tired, Cassian," he said, cutting me off. He closed the subject the way he always did when he didn’t want to look at something.

I looked at his profile in the dark. The bruised jaw, the dark blood on his lip. I didn’t push. I told myself he would come to me when he was ready. He always had.

I didn’t know yet that ready was going to take a long time.

I thought I could keep it quiet. I told the men who were with us to keep their mouths shut. It made sense in the car, but by the time we got back, I realized I was being an idiot.

Emilio was twenty years old and full of spite. He was never going to keep a secret that made him look like a victim.

Marceli found out before I even stepped into the house. Powerful men always know. They hear the whispers before you even decide to speak.

I stood in his office while he sat behind his desk. Nothing had changed about our roles, but the air in the room felt different.

Marceli wasn’t angry. That was the problem. He was thoughtful. He was looking at me like I was a piece of equipment that had just developed a very interesting flaw.

"You handled it well," he said. He sounded like he meant it. "No escalation. The truce is still on the table. It’s impressive, Cassian."

I waited. I knew there was a but coming. There was always a but with Marceli.

"But," he said, setting his glass down with a soft click. "Your man struck the Don’s son. In his own house. During a truce. That isn’t nothing, even if we’re all pretending it is."

"It’s been addressed," I told him.

"By you," Marceli said with a small, sharp smile. It was the look of a man reminding you who owned the ceiling over your head. "Not by me. Which means it isn’t fully addressed, is it?"

In that moment, I understood everything.

The exit I had been building, the plan to take Julian and leave.. Marceli had just put a new lock on the door.

Marceli didn’t scream. He didn’t use a knife. He just used the truth like a businessman uses an asset.

"Julian is your responsibility," he said, his voice almost kind. "What he does reflects on you. And what reflects on you reflects on me. So, until this truce is signed and sealed..."

He paused, letting the weight of it hang in the air.

"I need you here. Focused. Not planning any trips."

That was it. The second meeting was now in Marceli’s hands. He would schedule it when it suited him, and I knew it wasn’t going to be anytime soon.

The peace talks started to stretch. New conditions appeared out of nowhere. More meetings were suddenly required.

The truce became a knot that got tighter every time we tried to untie it. It wasn’t because it was hard; it was because Marceli wanted it that way.

I understood. I didn’t say a word. To speak would be to show him that I knew what he was doing, and I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.

I went to the meetings. I negotiated. I did my job while the door to our future stayed locked.

Julian’s mistake was now a coin in Marceli’s pocket, and he was going to spend it whenever he felt like it.

Weeks went by. I came back to the apartment late after another meeting that had accomplished nothing.

I sat at the table, looking at a stack of files that were just the same lies rearranged to look like progress.

Something in me just snapped. It wasn’t a big explosion. I just picked up the file and threw it. The papers went flying, scattering across the floor like dead leaves.

I pushed my chair back so hard it hit the wall with a crack. I slammed my fist into the plaster, just once.

I knew it wouldn’t change anything, but I needed to feel something other than that cold, heavy weight in my chest.

I stood there with my hand against the wall, breathing hard.

I realized Julian was in the doorway of his room, watching me. He didn’t say anything.

I tried to pull myself back together, to put the mask back on, but it was too late. He had already seen the cracks.

He didn’t ask what was wrong. He just turned around and went back into his room. I was left alone to pick up the papers, feeling like a fool.

Later that night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My mind was running in the same circles it had been for weeks.

I heard the door open quietly. I knew the weight of his footsteps. I knew the rhythm of his breathing.

Julian got into the bed, keeping his back to me. He pulled the blanket up, and I could see the small, cold shape of the jade pendant on his pillow.

Neither of us moved for a long time.

"Marceli is holding you here because of me, isn’t he," he said into the darkness. It wasn’t a question.

"No," I lied.

"Don’t," Julian said. "Don’t lie about this, Cassian."

"It’s complicated," I told the ceiling.

He turned over to face me. His eyes were wide and dark in the shadows. "I know what I did. I know what it cost us. I’m sorry."

"Julian—"