CHAPTER FIVE
851 Words
CHAPTER FIVE
Zariah
The first photograph in the file was grainy—taken at night, from a distance—but I’d know the man in it anywhere.
Viktor Moretti.
Cassian’s cousin. The one who always watched me too closely. The one who smiled with his mouth but never with his eyes.
He was shaking hands with a man I didn’t recognize. Blonde. Tall. Military posture. A scar cutting through his brow like a reminder of war.
“What is this?” I whispered.
Cassian’s voice was unreadable. “That’s who paid Viktor to betray my family.”
I looked up, throat tight. “You’re saying your own cousin—”
“Was working for the Volkov Bratva. Undercover. For years.”
My heart stuttered. “But... he died. That night.”
Cassian didn’t flinch. “Did he?”
I blinked.
“What?”
He leaned forward, eyes locked on mine. “His body was never recovered. Just blood. A lot of it. And you… standing there like a ghost.”
“No. No, Cassian—he was dead. I saw him—”
“You saw what he wanted you to see.”
My hands trembled. My mind reeled back to that night in Rome. The music. The kiss. The gunshot. The scream.
The blood on my dress.
Cassian reached for another document. A medical file.
“Fake death. Clean exit. New identity. He's alive, Zariah. And he's looking for you.”
The room tilted.
“I don’t—why me? I didn’t know anything.”
Cassian’s jaw flexed. “You saw something. Or heard something. You’ve blocked it out, but they’re not sure. That makes you a liability.”
I shook my head, stepping back, fingers in my hair. “This is insane. You don’t understand. I ran because of you. Because I thought you were going to kill me.”
His face darkened.
“I would never have hurt you.”
“You had blood on your hands, Cassian. You looked at me like I broke you.”
“You did,” he said coldly. “But I still would’ve protected you.”
The air between us pulsed, thick and unforgiving.
And then he said it—quietly, almost like an apology.
“I needed you to suffer, Zariah. I needed you to feel even a fraction of what I felt when I thought you were gone. But now... now I just need you alive.”
I turned away, afraid my knees would give out.
How could a man be this cruel and this gentle in the same breath?
“How long have you known he was alive?” I asked.
“Two years.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I couldn’t find you.”
“Liar.”
He didn’t argue. Just watched me like he was still memorizing me. Like if he looked long enough, I’d confess things I hadn’t said even to myself.
“I need you to come with me,” he said.
I turned, arms folded. “Where?”
“Safehouse. My people are already tracking Viktor’s movement. But if he realizes you’re here—alone—it’ll be too late.”
I hesitated.
Cassian took a step closer.
“I’ll give you space. A room of your own. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”
My breath caught.
“I’m not asking.”
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
“Yet.”
---
Cassian
She came with me.
Silent. Pale. Broken in places she refused to show.
But she came.
Adrian drove us through the city without questions. I gave none. Zariah sat beside me in the back seat, staring out the window like the buildings might offer a better ending than the one she was walking toward.
My hand ached to reach for hers.
But I didn’t.
Not yet.
The safehouse was on the outskirts of the city—a converted stone manor surrounded by trees and tech. Cameras. Steel-lined windows. Bulletproof glass. The works.
Adrian opened the door for her.
She didn’t step out.
I leaned closer.
“I know you don’t trust me, Zariah. But this isn’t about trust. This is about survival.”
Her eyes met mine—wild, unsure, exhausted.
Then she stepped into the house.
---
The room I gave her was on the second floor. Minimalist. White linen, a small fireplace, floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out into nothing but trees.
She stood in the middle, arms wrapped around herself.
I stayed by the doorway.
“There’s clothes in the wardrobe. Food downstairs. Cameras only outside. No one will bother you.”
She nodded but said nothing.
I turned to leave.
“Cassian,” she said suddenly.
I paused.
Her voice was small. The real her. Not the mask she’d been wearing.
“If I remember something… if I open that part of me again… will you protect me? Even from yourself?”
I turned slowly.
And for the first time in five years, I didn’t feel like a monster.
I nodded once.
“With my last breath.”
- Writer
