024

024

Cassian
I couldn't get it out of my head. No matter how hard I tried, those words rang dangerously in my ears, reminding me that I wasn't the only one in danger now. I'd somehow managed to get her into trouble too.

Her.

After our rendezvous that wonderful night, I genuinely wanted our paths to cross again. She was drop dead gorgeous in her tight wooly dress and red lips. It'd been a while I'd found myself swooning over a girl. It was usually the other way around and I enjoyed every bit of it. But now, I wasn't so sure.

She was trouble, but in like a good way. I loved seeing her riled up and frustrated but at the same time she being stressed didn't sit right with me. In conclusion, she was driving me mad, and strangely enough, I was enjoying every bit of it.

Except for the part that somehow, I'd mixed her up in the stalker business. I was scared, but mostly for her. I don't think I'd forgive myself if anything happened to her, but somehow she just keeps on getting entangled in my mess.

A beep from my phone interrupted my thoughts. Taking a cursory glance, I groaned at the name flashing on the notification icon.

"Ughhh!" I groaned, slapping my palm against my forehead in agony. It hurt, but whatever the devil's advocate wanted to discuss with me would hurt way more. “What does he want from me?"

As if reading my mind somehow, another text dropped in.

"I need you, son." I scoffed at the three letter word. The only time I was ever his son was whenever he needed help. “It's really urgent."

"Of course it is." My fingers hovered over the green icon that would connect me and the devil himself. “Best to get this over with, right, Cas?"

"Son, finally…." I cut him off before he could get anymore words out. I thought not hearing his voice after a while would somehow shimmer down the amount of enmity I had for him, but I was wrong in more than a thousand and one ways.

"What do you want?" I snapped and I swear I heard him curse. My voice was icy, even for me but he deserved that. Every inch of it. “I don't have time for this."

"That's no way to talk to your ole pops son, is it now?" On a normal day, that would have put me in a better mood, but today wasn't a normal day. "How are you?"

"Just stop it." I seethed. “I know you're not concerned about that, so just stop. You haven't called me up in the last three years, so why now? Oh, I know. You need something, so spit it out."

"Well, well, well." I could picture him smirking, his fingers drumming into the desk in front of him. “You've grown so much, son. A little wiser perhaps, maybe I misjudged you."

"I'm going to end this call." I threatened. He was beginning to get on my nerves. “I can't help you."

"That's okay." He quipped eerily. “I'll just ask Liam. He's always been better than you."

I squeezed the bridge of my nose tightly, not caring if I was going to break my spectacles in the process. He always did this. Everytime he wanted something, his best bet was to pitch the “he's better than you card.” And I hated that it worked, more times than I would like.

Don't let him get to you...

"Are you still there Cas?" His voice was low, every octave calculated. I hated that he used that nickname, but I didn't push it. “Of course, you are. Have you spoken to Liam lately? I think he'd be a better choice. I should have known better than ring you up. I guess, I just hoped that somehow you'd be a better man than he is. At least surprise me, just this once..."

The line went dead as I switched it off, not bothering to disconnect the call first.

"That mother fucking son of a bitch!" I marched to my swivel chair and slumped onto it. It gave a loud groan and a little part of me felt sorry for the poor chair. "How dare he!?"

I slammed my fist against my desk, sending most of my pens and markers clattering to the ground. I'd hoped it'd help me simmer down a bit but somehow I felt even more agitated.

His words danced around in my head, squeezing out every inch of selfconfidence I had. This was one of the many reasons I hated talking to him.

I wanted to break something. No, scratch that. I needed to break something

Like the devil hadn't punished enough in one lifetime, a loud thud rattled the office, a few books on my shelves threatening to fall off.

"You could as well rip the door right off its hinges!" I groaned in frustration, tossing my head backward. If I could rip it off my neck, trust me I would. "Aren't you ever gentle?"

Can't I just be mad and frustrated in peace?

Whether it was orchestrated to frustrate me or not, I wasn't sure. All I knew, was the fact that Mila had chosen that exact moment to walk into my office.

I pressed my eyes shut after that, as I allowed the memory of what had gone down replay itself at the back of my mind. Before I did that though, I threw a glance at the door that led to her side of the office, and for a quick second, I was actually deliberating how she would react if I showed up there.

I tried to relax, but thinking about Mila and my father wasn't exactly the best remedy to calm me down. Against my own better judgement, I found myself focusing on one crucial part of Mila's barging in here.

The envelope. She'd refused to let me read its content, but I just knew it couldn't mean anything good.

"What letter?" I'd asked, but instead of telling me, she'd hidden it behind her like it was a map to a treasure trove hidden underneath the ocean.

A nostalgic wave of paranoia had seeped into my bones and I fought the urge to shudder. I doubted she was going to believe that if I told her either that I was worried for her. And hell, maybe I would have if she had let me see the damned thing.

A small sigh slid past my lips I pinched the bridge of my nose. I was getting frustrated just by thinking about it, and the worst part? I still craved her presence.

I tried to get her out of my mind, but it was next to impossible at this point.
Like that wasn't enough, I just had to mess things up all the more, by asking her if she trusted me.

“Do you trust me?" The words sounded stupid the more I thought about it. Why I'd asked her that I had no idea, but something in me desperately wanted her to reply in the positive.

"Damn it!" I reached for the nearest book and hurled it into the way, its jacket splitting neatly into two. I clenched and unclenched my fists, my previously forgotten agitation worming its way back into my skin. “Why is she like this?"

Reaching into my pocket, I grabbed my phone and dialed the only person I knew could help me out of this.

"Wassup bruh." His thick accent slurred on the third ring. It was obvious he was drunk, but I was too mad to care. “Are you..."

"Save it." I snapped. “Get your drunken ass over here. We've got some snooping to do."