Cassian’s POV
Patience has its place, but so does fire.
I’ve whispered enough. I’ve planted enough seeds in the dark. Now it’s time to scorch the Devil in broad daylight.
I know Damon’s habits, his routines, his pride. He doesn’t stay locked in his tower forever—he parades her, even if he thinks he’s hiding her. Tonight, he’s moving her in a convoy, all armored glass and black steel, the kind of spectacle he thinks screams untouchable.
But steel cracks. Glass shatters. Pride burns.
My men wait in the narrowest stretch of road leading out of his district. An ambush set like teeth—vehicles boxed in from both sides, gunmen waiting in shadows, the world rigged to explode.
I don’t want Damon dead. Not yet. Death is too clean, too final.
I want him alive to watch me take her. To know that
