Aria's POV.
I sat in the passenger seat of Cassian’s car, the city lights slipping past in streaks of yellow and white. My hands were folded tightly in my lap, fingers twisting the edge of my dress like a lifeline. But my mind wasn’t on the road, wasn’t on the night ahead.
It was back at the rink. The puck. The chemical smell still sharp in my memory. Cassian’s furious stare when he saw it. And then that text, ‘We know who she is. And we’re not done yet.’
I swallowed hard, forcing the tight smile I’d practiced all evening. He glanced over, his eyes catching mine like he could read the unrest behind the calm.
“You okay?” Cassian’s voice was quiet, careful.
“Yeah,” I said, voice too light, maybe even a little brittle. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
His gaze lingered. Not buying it. I gave hi
