She sat on the velvet couch like she owned the room. Legs tucked under her, cup of tea in one hand, a half-read book in the other.

His men were gathered like moths — three of them.

Marco, Luis, and fucking Tomas.

Tomas never spoke unless blood was spilling. Now? He was laughing.

And all she did was nod. Ask a question. Smile a little.

Not flirt. Not try. Just… be.

And that was worse.

She wasn’t doing it on purpose. He could see that.

She wasn’t like the women who tried to angle closer to power. She wasn’t trying to survive. She was just quiet. Unbothered. Present. And somehow, that rattled his entire goddamn operation.

He cleared his throat once — sharp, deliberate.

The room fell silent.

Luis straightened. Marco looked away. Only she turned her head, calm as ever.

“Am I interrupting?” he said coldly.

Her eyes met his. Unblinking. “It’s your house, isn’t it?”

Cassian stepped forward. Slowly. Each footfall intentional.

The others scattered — pretending they had somewhere else to be.

Now it was just her.

And him.

“I didn’t realize I was collecting strays,” he muttered, circling behind the couch.

She didn’t react. Just took a slow sip of her tea.

He hated how graceful her hands looked around the cup. How unbothered she stayed in a room no one else would dare relax in.

“You enjoy making them soft?” he asked.

Her brows lifted, confused. “I asked what their favorite breakfast was.”

“That’s it?”

She shrugged. “Luis said waffles. I said pancakes. Marco agreed with me. It all went downhill from there.”

Fuck. Was she being funny? Was she always like this?

She didn’t even know. Didn’t know how she pulled people in without effort. Didn’t know he stayed up at night replaying the way she moved. Didn’t know she had more control in silence than most people had with guns.

“You’re dangerous,” he said flatly.

She tilted her head. “I’ve been in this house three days. Haven’t even left the hall.”

“That’s what makes you dangerous.”

She smiled. Not wide. Just enough to make him want to kiss it off her face.

And somehow, he hated her more for it.

He leaned closer. Hovering above her shoulder now. “They’ll follow you.”

“They already follow you.”

“They follow you without knowing why.”

“I don’t ask them to.”

Cassian stepped back like she’d burned him.

She looked up, blinking slowly. “Is this about your control, or your pride?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

He turned and left, each step heavier than the last.

Because she didn’t know what she was doing.

And that — that — made her the most dangerous person in his world.