chapter Eight
1073 Words
Cassian Wolfe didn’t belong in the light. He never had.
Right from when he was small and learnt that he was the illegitimate son of the well known wealthy Calloway's family.
The light has never mixed well with someone who was born into darkness.
The underground bar was humming with bass-heavy music, dim lights flickering like the heartbeat of a dying star. Smoke curled in the air—cheap cigars, expensive cigarettes, burnt deals. Cassian sat in the VIP booth, elbows on the table, jaw set tight. Around him, men bartered secrets for survival, and women danced like weapons. But none of it touched him. None of it could distract him.
His mind was with her.
Isla.
He closed his eyes and leaned back. The scent of her perfume still clung to his jacket like a ghost that refused to let go. She had stood so close earlier, her eyes full of questions and pain—questions she wouldn’t ask, pain he couldn’t take away.
He hated that she looked at Adrian like she was trying to convince herself he was the right choice. Hated it more that she wore that ring like it meant something.
It was the main reason why he had left the governor's reception early, not that anybody cared but he would always take that over watching the woman he loved stand beside another man—his own brother nonetheless.
“You’re bleeding,” a voice murmured beside him, jerking him out of his inner musings.
Cassian blinked, then glanced down. His knuckles were raw, blood crusted along the edges. He hadn’t even realized he’d punched the wall in the back room after that argument with Adrian.
“I’m fine,” he muttered.
Nico, his right-hand man, didn’t push. That was the thing about the people in this world. They didn’t ask why you were hurting. They just made sure no one else saw it.
Cassian poured another shot, ignoring the sting in his hand as the alcohol splashed. He knocked it back in one gulp and winced—not from the burn, but from the image seared into his skull. Isla peeking through that door, eyes wide, watching the storm unfold between him and Adrian.
She had always watched quietly, even when they were kids. Observing. Absorbing. And now—now she was stuck in the middle of something she had no business being part of.
He didn’t want to love her. He wanted to be angry. At her. At the world. At himself.
But love didn’t ask for permission.
Instead, it sneaks up to you without permission and invades your heart. Making you vulnerable and weak.
Cassian sighed and glanced around the room, acknowledging everything that he had built by himself. He’d spent years building this empire beneath the surface. Gambling dens. Off-grid fight clubs. Smuggling routes no one dared to map. Every inch of it designed to be untouchable. Controlled.
And yet here he was, undone by a woman who didn’t even know the half of what he’d done for her.
She didn’t know how many times he’d called off hits when her name was even mentioned in passing. Didn’t know how many threats he’d buried before they reached her front door. She was Adrian’s fiancée on paper, but in Cassian’s world, she was untouchable for a very different reason.
Because she was his.
Always had been.
He didn’t care about the consequences. Didn’t care about the power Adrian wielded with clean hands and political alliances. What Cassian had was dirtier—but it was real.
“You gonna tell her?” Nico asked suddenly.
Cassian frowned. “Tell her what?” he repeated, one of his brows arching.
He had an inkling as to what Nico was asking him about...
“That you’re still in love with her?” Nico answered rhetorically, meeting his eyes.
It wasn't a question because even he knew how much Cassian loves Isla.
Cassian gave a bitter laugh, one that sounded dry and mirthless in just ears. “What would be the point?” he inquired, lifting his shoulders in a slight shrug and barely suppressing another sigh.
“She might still care,” Nico told him.
Cassian didn't say anything for about two minutes, and then he scoffed. “That’s the problem,” he muttered.
The booth fell into silence again, broken only by the dull thrum of base and the occasional glass shattering in the distance.
Cassian's phone buzzed. A message with only one word: Ravenwood.
His pulse ticked as his brows pulled together in a tight frown. That was the codename for Isla. Someone had eyes on her. After some moments of hesitation, he clicked the link.
A blurry photo came through—Isla standing beside Adrian at the governor’s reception. She was smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Adrian’s hand was on her back. Possessive. Like she belonged to him.
Cassian stared at the screen until the edges blurred and his fingers were gripping his phone tightly.
Then he stood.
“Call the driver,” he said to Nico.
“Where are we going?”
Cassian’s voice was low, dangerous.
“To remind people who she really belongs to.”
He went out of the bar amidst calls and greetings from people under him. He was well known and respected by both the old and the young.
He got to where his black slider was packed and crossed over to the driver's side with Nico right behind him.
His designated driver looked up at him with confusion in his eyes. “Boss—” he began.
Cassian didn't even spare him a glance as he slid into the driver's seat after swiping the car key from his hands. “I will drive," he said with an air of finality. “Go back inside and wait for my car.
Elias, the driver bent his head slightly and muttered a “Yes, boss.”
Cassian just graced him with a small nod just as Nico got into the passenger's seat beside him. Without any other word, the car zoomed off.
As the car sped through the back alleys of the city, Cassian’s phone buzzed again. But this time, it was a different message.
"There’s a leak inside your circle. Someone’s feeding Adrian everything."
Cassian’s jaw clenched as the screen faded to black.
He was running out of time.
And someone close was about to die for it.
- Writer
