Smoke and Mirrors
1108 Words
CASSIAN POV
He sleeps like a man with a death sentence.
One arm slung over his eyes, chest rising slow like he’s trying to hold onto whatever dream he’s in—if it’s a dream at all. His mouth is parted just enough to make me wonder what he’s whispering in his sleep. My name, maybe. A prayer. A lie.
I should’ve killed him the second I saw that wire under his shirt. Should’ve blown his f*****g brains out before I let him come anywhere near my bed.
But I didn’t.
And that makes me dangerous… even to myself.
I sit at the edge of the mattress, the silk sheets tangled between us, still warm with the mess we made of each other last night. My fingers itch to touch him again.
Not out of affection. Control.
I need to understand why I let him live
Why I still want him.
Why I’m staring at his chest rising and falling instead of carving out the traitor he’s been pretending not to be.
I rise, quiet, and make my way to the far side of the room. The drawer on the black lacquer nightstand gives way with a whisper. His burner phone is there. Unlocked. Sloppy. Or maybe he wanted me to find it.
I scroll through the messages.
**—“Target confirmed. Secure point DelaVega within 72 hours.”**
**—“Orders changed. Do not detain. Terminate. Priority: Agent Moretti’s safety compromised.”**
Terminate.
He was marked for death.
His own agency hung him out to dry.
And now… he’s mine.
---
I hear him stir.
Back in the shadows, I watch as he flinches in his sleep. Something tightens in his body, a breath held too long.
He’s dreaming. Maybe reliving last night.
Maybe reliving every moment that brought him into my arms with lies on his tongue.
I pour myself a drink. Scotch. Neat. The burn on my throat is the only thing I still control.
He turns his head, lashes fluttering. Not awake, not fully asleep.
My voice is low. “You dream about killing me, Agent?”
He startles.
Sits up fast, chest bare, back tense, eyes flicking to the door.
He still doesn’t know how to breathe around me.
“No,” he rasps.
“Then what?”
“I don’t remember.”
He’s lying. I can taste it on his skin.
I walk toward him, the glass still in my hand, ice clinking against crystal like a metronome counting down to something wicked. My steps are slow, deliberate.
He watches me like he expects the next move to be violent.
Maybe it will be.
I stop in front of him and tilt his chin up with two fingers. “Tell me something real, Rafael.”
He doesn’t pull away.
“It was supposed to be a mission,” he says. “Infiltrate, gather intel, bring you in.”
“And?”
“And then I touched you.”
I arch a brow.
“I was compromised the second you looked at me like you wanted to own me.”
He says it without shame. Without fear.
That’s the most dangerous thing about him. He doesn’t bluff. He burns.
And I like to play with fire.
I take the drink, finish it in one pull, then lean in close—close enough for him to feel the heat from my mouth.
“You’ll lie to them,” I say. “Feed them what I want them to hear.”
“I will.”
“And if you ever lie to me again…”
“I won’t.”
“Good,” I whisper, “because next time, I won’t f**k you, I’ll bury you.”
---
**An Hour Later**
He stands beside me again.
Dressed in black like a shadow I invited into my kingdom.
I drove him to the warehouse in silence. No music. No questions. Just the sound of him breathing beside me, like he was trying to guess what I’d ask him to do.
He didn’t ask.
I respect that.
Now, we wait.
Vicente arrives five minutes late.
As usual.
Cocky. Slick. Grinning like he owns the room. “Cassian,” he drawls. “I figured you’d be out of the city by now. Word on the street is the feds are circling tighter than a noose.”
I don’t smile. “That so?”
He nods, hands in his pockets, gaze flicking to Rafael like he’s just decoration. Like he doesn’t recognize the face from his own kill order.
Big mistake.
“Got any leads on the rat in your house?” Vicente adds. “Because I’ve got a few guesses.”
“I do,” I say calmly.
“Oh yeah?”
“I brought him with me.”
Vicente blinks. Laughs. “What?”
I nod to Rafael.
He steps forward, smooth and silent, raises the pistol—
—and c***s it, barrel pressed straight to Vicente’s forehead.
Vicente pales. “Cass… what the f**k is this?!”
My voice is calm.
“This is the part where you explain why the hell my name ended up on a federal hit list, Vicente.
Vicente shifts. Sweating now. “What are you talking about?”
Rafael pulls out the burner. Throws it at his feet.
“The logs don’t lie,” I say. “You fed them intel. You leaked my drop points. You told them where I sleep.”
Vicente’s mask slips for half a second.
Then he goes cold.
“I did what I had to do,” he spits. “You got soft. You let him… ” He jerks his chin at Rafael. "... crawl into your sheets. You think I didn’t notice? You think the bosses didn’t?”
My jaw tightens.
“I built this empire,” I hiss. “Stone by stone. Blood by blood. And you sold me out for what, immunity?”
Vicente sneers. “For survival.”
Bang!
One shot. Clean. Rafael’s hand doesn’t even shake.
Vicente drops like a marionette with cut strings.
I exhale.
Rafael holsters the gun, face unreadable.
“You sure he was the only one?” he asks quietly.
“No,” I answer. “But he was the loudest.”
I turn toward him, suddenly very aware that we’ve crossed a line we can never uncross.
Blood binds. So does betrayal.
And now we’ve got both.
“Does this make us partners?” he asks.
I smile, slow and sharp. “Not yet. You still owe me your soul.”
He doesn’t flinch.
“I already gave it to you.”
- Writer
