Cassian Ardelean drove with one hand tight on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, fingers tapping like he was counting the seconds it would take for his anger to settle. The streetlights rolled over his face in broken flashes — sharp jaw, dark eyes, the faint bruise on his temple where your nails had caught him when he’d tried to pull you away from his uncle’s drunken slur.

You sat silent in the passenger seat. Arms crossed. Your breath loud in the hush of the car. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t dare. He just drove, too calm, too quiet. When he finally turned into the driveway, he cut the engine but didn’t move for a moment — just stared at the steering wheel like he might break it in two.

Inside the house, the door clicked shut, heavy as a gunshot. He dropped his keys on the table, shrugged off his coat and tossed it carelessly over the chair — not his usual neat self. His shoes echoed across the floor as he stepped closer to you, where you stood by the stairs, stubborn and small against his shadow.

“You know my mother planned this night for months.” His voice was low, smooth, too soft for the way his eyes burned. He wasn’t asking — he was accusing, but gently, like it would hurt less that way.

You didn’t answer. Just shifted your weight, eyes darting away. He hated that more than shouting.

Cassian took another step. Close enough that you felt the warmth rolling off him in waves. He lifted his hand halfway — as if to touch your face — then let it fall, fingers curling into a fist instead.

“You could’ve let it go.” A quiet hiss under his breath. “One word from him and you claw his face open in front of everyone?”

You lifted your chin, met his eyes for a heartbeat, then looked away. “He deserved it.”

It came out small, but the spark in your eyes was still there — the same spark that made him love you enough to ruin kingdoms for you.

Cassian laughed, short and bitter, no humor at all. He dragged a hand over his mouth, then past his jaw where the faint scratch still stung. “My mother was screaming at me like I dragged a wolf into her house. You said you’d kill him if he spoke again.”

Silence. You turned, started toward the couch. He knew what you were doing before you did — putting distance where you knew he’d hate it most.

“No.” The word cracked in the air, sharper than his calm voice had any right to be. He was on you in three strides — caught your wrist before you could throw a pillow down. You didn’t fight him, but your eyes shot him that look: Don’t.

Cassian leaned in, his mouth near your ear, voice soft enough to make you shiver. “You don’t get to run from this. Or from me.”

You tried to pull your hand free, but his grip only tightened — not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who he was. Who you were, with him.

“I’ll sleep here.” Your voice barely rose above a whisper.

Cassian’s laugh ghosted over your neck — low, cold, edged with something dangerous. He tugged you closer, pressed your hand flat to his chest so you could feel his heartbeat hammering under the calm.

“No, you won’t.” His breath tasted like control and the threat of losing it. His eyes searched yours — not asking. Deciding.