The waiter just placed our plates down—pasta for Naomi, some grilled salmon for me, and whatever fancy dish Cassian had picked—and Naomi was already halfway through her food like it owed her money.
She pointed her fork at Cassian. "You know, you're kind of perfect for Riri."
Cassian raised a brow, lips twitching into a smirk. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. She needs someone who knows how to open a car door and deal with her rants about school and work."
"Naomi!" I groaned, covering my face.
He chuckled, deep and warm. "I've survived gunfire and family wars. I think I can handle her rants."
Naomi gasped with exaggerated drama. "Wait. Gunfire? Is that part of the family business too?!"
Cassian gave her a mysterious glance. "Let's just say the Morellos don't run bakeries."
We all laughed. For a moment, it felt normal. It felt light. Like I could breathe.
"Okay, but real talk…" Naomi leaned in with that dangerous glint in her eyes. "Are you planning to marry my sister or what?"
I choked on air. "Naomi!!"
Cassian didn't even blink. "If she lets me stick around long enough, maybe."
The blush that exploded on my face could have set off fire alarms. Naomi squealed. "I'm gonna be the coolest sister-in-law ever."
Cassian leaned closer to me, his voice dipping low. "She's bold. I like her."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't hide the grin stretching across my lips. My heart fluttered like it had grown wings.
But just as dessert arrived—a chocolate lava cake that made Naomi moan like she'd entered heaven—Cassian's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and in one second, everything shifted.
His smile faded. His whole body tensed.
He stood slowly, excusing himself with a soft "just a second."
Naomi's eyes met mine. "That didn't look good."
"I know," I whispered.
Cassian returned a few minutes later. His expression was neutral, too neutral. The kind of calm that hides a storm underneath.
"Everything okay?" I asked, gently.
He gave me a small smile, brushing his fingers across mine. "Yeah. Just business."
But I could feel it—the energy had changed. He wasn't here anymore. Not fully.
Naomi noticed too. "You sure? You look like you just saw a ghost."
Cassian's eyes met hers, dark and unreadable. "Worse."
We all sat in silence for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and forced the tension out of his shoulders.
"I'll drop you both off after this. Then I need to take care of something."
That tone… cold, clipped, final. It made my skin crawl with anxiety.
"Is something wrong ?" I asked quietly, barely above a whisper.
Cassian didn't answer. He didn't need to. The look in his eyes said everything.
I squeezed his hand under the table.
No matter what chaos was brewing behind his walls, I was already in it with him.
Cardan dropped us off without a word, his expression unreadable as he pulled away, the low hum of his engine fading into the distance. He vanished like smoke—quick, quiet, deliberate. I watched the car disappear around the corner, a knot tightening in my stomach. Whatever pulled him away, I could feel it wasn't good. Something business-related, no doubt. And in his world, business was rarely innocent.
"Is he always like that?" Naomi asked, her voice light but edged with curiosity as we approached the house.
I forced a chuckle. "Like what?"
"Mysterious. Intense. Like he's about to walk into a war zone but doesn't want you to worry."
I smirked, shaking my head as I unlocked the door. "Yeah… that's pretty accurate."
We stepped inside, the familiar scent of vanilla and old wood wrapping around us. Naomi kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the couch, her eyes still glinting with mischief.
"But I'm serious, Riri," she said, propping herself up on her elbows. "I like him. He's perfect for you. The way he looks at you—it's not just lust. It's like you're his home."
I paused for a moment, taken off guard by her words. My heart stuttered, then picked up pace again.
"What do you even know about love, Nay?" I teased, trying to shake off the weight of her honesty as I tossed my bag aside and joined her.
"Hey, just because I've never been in love doesn't mean I'm blind," she shot back, grinning. "Now ask me about my weekend already."
I did, and she launched into a detailed story about her friend's place—sleepovers, gossip, late-night movies, drama. I laughed along, but part of me wasn't really there. My mind kept drifting back to Cardan… and to Cassian. Cassian, with his cryptic texts and vanishing acts. Cassian, who felt like both a question and an answer I wasn't ready for.
And no matter how loud Naomi's voice got, I couldn't silence the echo of his name in my head.
Cassian pov
The bastard had been tailing us since the church.
Cassian had known the second they stepped outside—the way the breeze shifted, the sharp sound of a lighter flicking too close behind them, a face that didn't belong in Sunday crowds. Russo's man was sloppy. But the message was clear.
She's not safe anymore.
Now the man was in Cassian's chair, wrists zip-tied to cold metal, blood dripping slow from his busted lip. A single bulb swung above, casting flickers of light like it was deciding whether or not to witness what was about to happen.
Cassian stood in the shadows, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his forearms. Quiet. Calm.
"You really thought I wouldn't see you?" he asked, stepping forward. "You think I'm the kind of man who takes his eyes off a woman like that?"
The man groaned, tried to speak, but it came out wet. Pitiful.
"You followed her," Cassian continued, voice low, sharp as a blade. "You watched her walk out of a church, and you thought she didn't belong to someone. That's where you fucked up."
He cracked his knuckles. His mind wasn't here. It was back in that pew, with Arielle beside him—her voice a whisper, her eyes wandering, full of questions and a strange kind of wonder. She made the place feel holy. Not the altar. Her.
And even then, part of him was watching. Waiting. Sensing.
"You weren't after me. You were watching her." Cassian's jaw clenched. "What did Russo promise you, huh? A bonus if you took a photo of her? A piece of her hair?"
He slammed a fist into the man's temple. Blood smeared his knuckles. He didn't care.
"She doesn't know what I am," he muttered. "She still sees something worth saving."
The man wheezed, coughed, and choked out, "I didn't touch her…"
Cassian crouched, nose inches from his face. "You don't have to touch a woman to threaten her. You follow her? That's enough. You stare too long? That's enough. You think about hurting her?" He pressed the barrel of his gun against the man's kneecap. "That's enough."
The man screamed when the shot rang out. One knee gone. Cassian didn't flinch.
He stood, rolling his shoulders. "You'll live. I want Russo to see what happens when he even thinks about her."
As Luka entered to clean up, Cassian turned and walked out into the night, blood still warm on his hands.
The city smelled like rain.
He lit a cigarette and leaned against the hood of his car, staring out at the skyline. For a moment, he let himself imagine her—Arielle—sitting beside him, humming something under her breath, completely unaware of the war being waged in her name.
She'd hate him if she knew.
And still, he couldn't stop thinking about the way she smiled when she caught him looking at her, like she saw him—not the monster, not the mafia heir—just… him.
Cassian exhaled smoke slowly, the way he'd been taught to do everything—controlled. Ruthless. Cold.
But that girl? She was fire.
And if Russo laid a single finger on her, Cassian would burn the world down.