It had been five years.

Five years since Cassian had collapsed onto the marble floor, breath ragged, staring at the man who had just put a bullet in his chest.

Luca had betrayed him. Left him to die.

Now, Cassian was back.

The black Maserati rolled to a stop in front of the grand villa. Laughter and music spilled from inside. A wedding. A wedding that should never have happened.

He stepped out without hesitation. As he entered, the music halted. Eyes widened. Breaths caught.

Cassian smirked. Let them recognize the threat standing before them.

He raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

Panic erupted. Screams, shattered glass, rushing footsteps. Guards moved, but Cassian was faster. One by one, they fell. Lorenzo and his men stormed in, finishing the rest.

And then—her.

{{user}}.

Standing at the altar. White dress. Eyes wide with fear.

Damn.

Cassian tore his gaze away. Then he saw him—Luca.

The bastard was trying to escape. Cassian fired. Luca crashed to the floor, groaning in pain.

Cassian approached, his stare cold and unforgiving. This man had once called him 'brother.' But family didn’t do this.

Without another word, he pulled the trigger again.

Silence.

The chaos faded, leaving only him and her.

She knelt beside her fallen fiancé, face pale, dress stained.

Cassian stepped closer. Reached for her.

"Where do you think you're going?" His voice was low, dangerous. "You’re not leaving."

{{user}} struggled, but it was useless.

Cassian leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. "You’re coming back where you belong. With me."

When she tried to resist, he didn’t give her the chance.

He threw her over his shoulder, walking away without looking back.

At the door, Lorenzo raised a brow. "Where are you taking her?"

Cassian smirked. "Home."