CHAPTER 6
1296 Words
CASSIAN’S POV
The taste hit me first—sharp, the smooth bitterness of black tea, something that clung to the back of my throat like rust.
I’d been standing at my desk, flipping through the quarterlies, when the edges of the page blurred. My vision tunneled. My pulse thundered in my ears.
It didn’t take a genius to know I’d been poisoned.
I remember the way my hands braced on the desk, the glass tipping over, amber liquid spilling across my reports. My knees went soft. Then Evan was there—shouting my name, his hands hauling me upright, dragging me toward the elevator.
By the time we reached the hospital, I could barely keep my eyes open.
***
The doctors said I was minutes away from my kidneys shutting down. Whatever was in that tea was potent. Not enough to kill me instantly, but enough to make sure I’d feel death breathing down my neck.
Evan paced the corner of the room like a caged animal, his jaw tight.
“It was her. She's grown so bitter that she wants you dead."
I didn’t have say a word. If this was a way she would feel better and take me back, so be it. let me die for her.
I let him talk none stop, he made accusations in all the ways she could have pulled the strings without ever getting her hands dirty. It was convincing, I’ll give him that.
But here’s the thing about Sera Vale: she doesn’t waste moves.
I was still, lying there with the monitor beeping steadily beside me, I couldn’t ignore the truth: if she wanted me gone, she could have made it happen. Easily.
The fact that I was still here meant she wasn’t done with me.
And God help me… I wasn’t done with her either.
As Evan left to “make some calls,” I stared at the ceiling, replaying the look in her eyes the last time we were face to face—cold, defiant, daring me to push her harder.
If she didn’t send that poison, then someone just declared a new kind of war.
And when I found out who…
I’d make sure they learned exactly why you don’t take aim at Cassian Thorn and miss.
****
SERAPHINA’S POV
It had been days since I’d last looked Cassian Thorn in the eye, from the none stop roses at my office, the chocolate and band singing outside my mansion, the man doesn't know when to stop.
I knew he’d be watching me—if not through his own eyes, then through the people who owed him favors.
Which was exactly why I couldn’t let him get close to Aria.
I signed the final set of transfer papers with steady hands, even though my chest felt tight. The pen slid across the signature line, sealing a decision that had taken me months to prepare for.
A new boarding school for my daughter in a new country.
A place where Cassian’s reach would blur into shadow.
Aria didn’t understand. She didn’t see the way his gaze lingered on her at the park, the subtle pull of recognition in his eyes. She didn’t know how much that man never wanted to believe her existence.
I was doing this for her safety.
And maybe...just maybe...for mine.
****
By the time Evan stormed into my office that afternoon, I already knew something had happened. The tightness in his jaw, the way his footsteps carried that purposeful violence—it was the walk of a man looking for blood.
“You think this is a game, Vale?” His voice was low but sharp enough to cut glass.
I didn’t look up from my papers. “I don’t play games with men I don’t care about.”
“Cassian almost died today.”
That made my pen still mid-word. Slowly, I set it down and lifted my gaze to him. “What?”
“A courier delivered tea to his office. He drank the poisoned tea.” Evan stepped closer, planting his hands on my desk. “If I hadn’t walked in when I did, if I hadn’t gotten him to the hospital—”
My brows drew together. “And you’re here because…?”
“Because I know you.” His voice was venom. “Don’t try to tell me you had nothing to do with it.”
I held his gaze without flinching. “I had nothing to do with it.”
“Bullshit.” He spat.
“You’re wasting your breath.” I leaned back in my chair, deliberately unruffled. “If Cassian’s still breathing, it means someone wanted him alive enough to miscalculate. That’s not my style.”
His mouth twisted. “Maybe not. But you have friends who aren’t as… restrained.”
The implication landed like a stone between us.
I let the silence stretch until it was taut, then reached for my phone. “If you’re done making threats you can’t back up, I have calls to make.”
His jaw ticked. “You think Cassian will keep giving you the benefit of the doubt? He won’t. Not after this.”
I smiled faintly. “I don't care .”
He left with more fury than satisfaction, the door slamming hard enough to rattle my glass wall.
I didn’t waste time.
The moment he was gone, I dialed Bishop Kane's number. I knew he did something this foolish.
The line clicked.
His usual familiar, low drawl came through.
“Well, well… if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker.”
“Bishop.” My voice was sharp. “What the hell did you do?”
He laughed softly, like my anger was foreplay.
“Relax, princess. Your ex is still breathing. I made sure the dose was light. Just enough to make him sweat.”
“I told you not to touch him.” I snapped.
“And I told you,” his tone darkened, “that when I save someone’s life, I get to collect my own kind of repayment.”
My grip on the phone tightened. “This isn’t repayment. This is reckless.”
“I like reckless. You used to, too.” He said.
“I don’t owe you that kind of loyalty, Bishop.”
“No,” he mused, “but you owe me your life. And I’m feeling generous enough to spare his—for now.”
I exhaled slowly. “If you ever go near Cassian again without my permission, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” he cut in, a smirk dripping from the word. “Come over here and stop me? Maybe bend me to your will? or maybe f**k me instead."
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Oh, I’m not flattering. I’m remembering. The way you looked the night I pulled you out of that smelly little motel after he threw you out.”
I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. “That was a lifetime ago.”
“Not to me.” His voice lowered, heat curling under the edge of it. “To me, it was the first night I wanted to see how far I could push you before you broke.”
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of hanging up in anger. I simply ended the call, dropped the phone on the desk, and sat back, willing my pulse to slow.
****
Somewhere, in whatever den Bishop Kane was holding court in tonight, I could picture him—lazy, predatory—sinking back into his chair, a half-empty glass in one hand.
.
Bishop didn’t want affection.
He wanted power.
And right now, the only thing more dangerous than Cassian Thorn’s persistence and suspicion… was Bishop Kane’s interest in ending Cassian's life.
- Writer
