Bound by Blood and Obsession

Chapter 5: The Family Table

The city hall wasn't a normal government building. It was a massive, old courthouse made of grey stone that looked like it had been stained by a hundred years of pollution and bad choices. The rain from last night had turned into a thick, miserable fog that hung low over the streets, making everything look blurry and gray.

Cassian walked right next to me, his massive shoulder brushing against mine every few steps. He was back in his perfectly tailored black suit, his dark hair combed back neatly without a single strand out of place. He looked totally calm, like he was just going out for a walk, but his hand was resting right near the button of his suit jacket. I knew exactly what was hiding under that expensive fabric.

Benedict walked a few steps behind us, his scarred face looking around the street like he was expecting someone to jump out of the shadows with a weapon.

"Keep your chin up, Isadora," Cassian murmured, not even looking down at me as we walked up the wide stone steps of the building. "Look like you want to be here."

"I don't want to be here," I whispered back, my teeth chattering from the cold air. "I'm signing my life away to a stalker."

Cassian’s jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything else. He grabbed the heavy brass handle of the front door and pushed it open, guiding me inside with a firm hand on the small of my back. His palm felt hot through my thin denim jacket.

The inside of the building was empty, except for a few security guards who immediately bowed their heads the second they saw Cassian’s face. We walked down a long, echoing hallway lined with marble pillars until we reached a set of frosted glass doors.

Cassian pushed them open and stepped inside a private conference room.

Sitting at the long mahogany table in the center of the room was a man. He looked a lot like Cassian, with the same sharp jaw and dark hair, but his eyes were totally different. Where Cassian’s eyes were cold and gray like a winter sky, this guy’s eyes were a nasty, watery hazel. He had a cruel, crooked smile on his face, and he was spinning an expensive silver lighter on the polished wood of the table.

This had to be Gideon. Cassian's older half-brother.

"Well, well, well," Gideon drawled, his voice sounding way louder and cruder than Cassian’s smooth tone. He stopped the lighter with his palm and leaned back in his leather chair. "The happy couple finally decided to show up. I was starting to think the little Thorne princess ran away in the middle of the night."

Cassian didn't even look at his brother. He pulled out a heavy leather chair for me, pointing to it with his chin. "Sit down, Isadora."

I sat, keeping my hands tucked tightly into my lap so nobody could see them shaking. The room smelled like stale tobacco and cheap cologne, mostly coming from Gideon's side of the table.

Gideon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the wood, his nasty hazel eyes locking right onto my face. He looked at my messy hair, my cheap jeans, and the way I was trying to shrink into my seat. A disgusting smirk crossed his lips.

"She doesn't look like much, Cass," Gideon sneered, flicking his lighter open and shut with a sharp click-clack. "A bit small, isn't she? Our father would have picked someone with a bit more... presence. A real Don's wife shouldn't look like a scared high school kid who lost her backpack."

My blood instantly boiled. I wanted to lean across the table and slap that smirk right off his face, but I remembered Cassian’s warning from last night. Do not look him in the eye, and do not say a word to him. I forced myself to stare at the black fountain pen sitting in the middle of the table, my knuckles turning white under my jeans.

"Gideon," Cassian said. His voice wasn't loud, but it had a sudden, heavy weight to it that filled the entire room. The air instantly felt ten degrees colder. "The papers."

Gideon scoffed, rolling his eyes as he slid a thick stack of legal documents across the table. "Always so boring, little brother. No wonder your new wife looks like she’s going to a funeral."

Cassian picked up the black fountain pen and flipped to the last page of the document. He signed his name in quick, sharp strokes without even reading the fine print. He knew exactly what was on those pages because he was the one who wrote the rules.

Then, he slid the pen and the papers over to me.

"Sign, Isadora," he said quietly.

I looked down at the lines of black text. Marriage Contract. Sterling Syndicate. Thorne Family Debt Settlement. If I signed this, I wasn't Isadora Thorne anymore. I was property. I was Cassian’s wife. But if I didn't sign it, my dad was dead, and Perry’s future was totally ruined.

I picked up the heavy pen. My fingers were trembling so bad I almost dropped it, but I pressed the metal nib against the paper and scribbled my name right next to Cassian’s.

"Perfect," Gideon chuckled, leaning over the table like a vulture. "Now it's official. The Thorne family belongs to us. Tell me, princess, does your daddy know you're sleeping in the Ghost’s bed now? Or is he too busy hiding in his office crying about his empty bank account?"

I couldn't help it. My head snapped up, and I glared right into Gideon’s watery eyes. "My dad is twice the man you will ever be, you creep."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

Gideon’s smirk instantly vanished. His eyes went totally wild and angry, and he slammed his fist down onto the mahogany table so hard the fountain pen rolled off the edge. "What did you just say to me, you little b***h?"

He started to stand up, his massive frame looming over the table toward me.

But he didn't even get halfway up.

In a split second, Cassian moved. His hand shot across the table like a striking snake, grabbing the collar of Gideon's expensive designer shirt. With one massive, violent yank, Cassian slammed Gideon’s face right down onto the hard wood of the table. A loud, sickening crack echoed through the room as Gideon's nose hit the polished mahogany.

"Ah!" Gideon yelled, muffled against the wood, his hands clawing at Cassian’s iron grip.

I gasped, jumping back in my chair until it hit the wall behind me.

Cassian didn't look angry. His face was completely calm, completely white, like a marble statue. He leaned over his brother, his gray eyes looking down at Gideon with pure, unadulterated hatred. He tightened his grip on Gideon's shirt, twisting the fabric until Gideon started to choke.

"I told you before we came here, Gideon," Cassian whispered. His voice was so quiet it was terrifying. "She is my wife now. If you look at her again, if you breathe near her again, or if you speak her name with that disgusting mouth of yours, I will not just take your crew away. I will bury you in the woods behind the estate. Do you understand me?"

"Cass... let go..." Gideon wheezed, blood already dripping from his nose onto the white papers we just signed.

Up front, Benedict didn't even move. He just stood by the frosted glass door with his arms crossed, watching the whole thing like it was a boring TV show.

Cassian held him down for three more seconds, letting the fear sink in, before he roughly shoved Gideon's head back. Gideon scrambled away, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it to his bloody face, his eyes full of pure rage and murder as he glared at his younger brother.

Cassian didn't even look at him anymore. He turned to me, his face softening just a tiny bit as he held out his hand.

"Let's go, Isadora," he said.

I didn't take his hand, but I stood up immediately, my legs shaking like leaves. I ran out of that conference room so fast I almost tripped over my own sneakers. I could hear Gideon cursing and shouting from inside, but Cassian’s heavy, steady footsteps behind me were the only thing I could focus on.

We walked out of the building and back into the cold, foggy rain. The black car was waiting at the curb, its engine idling quietly.

As Cassian opened the rear door for me, a loud, sharp whistle echoed from the alleyway across the street.

I froze, looking over. Standing in the dark fog was a man wearing a dirty gray jacket. He caught my eye, lifted his hand, and pointed a single finger right at my chest—mimicking the shape of a gun. He "fired" it, then vanished into the gray mist.

Cassian saw it too. His hand dropped right into his jacket, his gray eyes turning completely black as he shoved me into the back seat of the car.