Whispers behind war

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

LUNA POV

The fire hadn’t touched her skin yet.

But she could feel the smoke rising.

They had done it. Faced Laurent. Threatened the empire he built in secret. For once, she hadn’t blinked. She hadn’t crumbled. She’d walked into the belly of her bloodline and spit in the face of the man who tried to script her life like a cold negotiation.

But now…

Now they were alone.

And the silence in the villa was louder than the confrontation.

Cassian poured two fingers of whiskey and handed her a glass. His fingers brushed hers. It was the lightest touch, but her whole body responded.

Too alert. Too alive.

Too aware that they were standing on the edge of everything — empire, war, love — and this might be the last moment before it all exploded.

“I should feel stronger,” she murmured, staring out the villa’s glass doors into the dark ocean. “But I just feel… hollow.”

Cassian stepped beside her, his voice quiet. “You were everything he feared you’d become. That’s not hollow, Luna. That’s fire.”

She turned toward him.

And she saw it in his eyes — the tension. The restraint. The way his control was unraveling, thread by thread, just like hers.

She set her glass down without drinking.

“Cassian,” she whispered.

He didn’t move.

But his voice dropped, rougher. “Say it again.”

She stepped closer, heartbeat rising. “Cassian.”

This time, his name was a plea.

And it broke him.

In one motion, he reached for her — hands fisting in her blazer, mouth crashing against hers like he’d been waiting for this kiss since the moment they met. There was nothing soft in it. Nothing tentative. Just months of ache, of silence, of secrets.

Of love they couldn’t afford to say out loud.

She kissed him back with everything she’d held in — pain and passion and rage. Her blazer hit the floor. His fingers tangled in her braid. She pressed him against the wall, teeth grazing his bottom lip as she whispered, “You make me forget everything.”

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.

“Then let me help you forget,” he growled.

His mouth found her neck. Her collarbone. Her shoulder. Each kiss was a promise. Or maybe a warning.

This wasn’t a night for sweet.

It was for breaking.

He lifted her onto the table, fingers sliding beneath her blouse, undoing buttons with a patience that didn’t match the hunger in his eyes. She pushed his shirt up, hands exploring the warm, hard lines of his chest, tracing the scars he never talked about.

She pressed her mouth to one.

“Your father didn’t leave these,” she said.

“No.”

“But he taught you how to earn them.”

His jaw clenched.

“Yeah.”

She kissed his throat. “You survived him.”

He kissed her mouth. “And I’ll survive everything else as long as I have you.”

Luna let herself fall backward against the table as his hands slid lower, lips leaving trails across her stomach. She arched beneath him, eyes fluttering shut as he whispered her name like a prayer carved into sin.

They undressed each other slowly. Reverently. Like neither of them knew if this would be the last time.

And when he entered her, it wasn’t just pleasure.

It was everything.

All the pain. All the war. All the defiance.

She clung to him, moaning his name, nails digging into his back as he moved harder, deeper, grounding her when she felt like she might splinter. He kissed her through it — every broken breath, every gasp, every tremble.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against her lips. “Not theirs. Not anymore.”

She nodded, desperate.

“Say it, Luna. I need to hear it.”

She kissed him back, voice wrecked and real.

“I’m yours.”

He didn’t let her fall apart alone.

He followed her over the edge.

---

Later, wrapped in tangled sheets and silence, Luna lay against his chest, fingers tracing invisible constellations across his skin.

“I don’t know what happens after this,” she said softly.

Cassian kissed the top of her head.

“Then we find out together.”

She looked up at him, eyes glassy in the moonlight. “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“When the empire burns…”

She paused.

“…don’t save it.”

He smiled — not his smirk, not his boardroom grin. A real smile. One she’d only seen in the dark, when the world wasn’t watching.

“I won’t save it,” he said. “I’ll build you a new one.”