Chapter 45: Stalkers

Faustina,

Cassius closed the door quietly behind him, but the coldness he carried filled the room before he even spoke. His posture was rigid, his movements precise, and his expression so unreadable it almost felt carved from stone.

"Miss Thorne," he said, voice low and controlled. "I am aware of what has been happening. It is my responsibility to handle my pack members and—"

"No. No. It's fine," I interrupted, waving off the rest. "The situation just seems to have complicated." I said, resting my back on the couch.

We returned home after I requested to have an early discharge since I hated the smell of hospital.

He stepped further inside, still keeping that composed, ruthless aura around him. Nothing about his expression softened. Nothing shifted out of place.

"I have already instructed my assistant to clear things up," he said. "The media chatter will be dealt with." He assured quietly,

"I'm not talking about the media." I leaned back on the couch, letting a small, tired laugh slip out. "I don't care about them. Even if they decide to call me a murderer, I won't bother."

His brow lifted slightly, but his face remained cold. "So I worried for nothing."

"Sort of." I shrugged. "I'm used to this kind of noise. But this—" I reached for the envelope and placed the photographs on the table. "—this is different."

He picked up the pictures slowly. His jaw tightened in a way that was almost imperceptible, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop a little.

"Someone sent me these," I said. "You walking into my house at night. Leaving the next morning. Same clothes. With a tiny little note- I know what you two have been doing behind~"

His eyes lingered on the images without a single change in expression. Only the stiffening of his fingers gave away anything at all.

"You believe someone is stalking us," he said.

"I believe someone is stalking you," I corrected. "Not us. And they think I am the problem. This could be your admire"

A silent pause followed. His gaze darkened almost imperceptibly.

"Who has the audacity?" he asked quietly. The coldness in his tone was unmistakable—calm, sharp, controlled, the kind of anger that didn’t rise but froze instead.

"Whoever it is knows your habits," I said. "Knows where you go. When you leave. It's creepy, but it's the truth. You should deal with this." I suggested,

"What a mess." He exhaled slowly, though even that sounded restrained, almost contemptuous. He dropped onto the couch beside me, but even sitting he kept his posture stiff, alert.

After a moment he spoke again. "Miss Thorne, can I stay here tonight?"

He didn’t sound unsure. He didn’t sound apologetic. It was the tone of someone who expected compliance.

"Well, if you don't want to feed another rumor, I don't mind," I said quite playfully.

I stood, stretching lightly. As I turned toward the window, something caught my eye—a still figure in the shadows outside. Watching. Not moving. Not pretending not to. I forgot the curtains.

The corner of my lips twitched into a brief, satisfied smirk.

"Also," I said, turning back toward him, "sometimes it's better to trust your instinct than go with the flow. You never know what comes next."

He studied me with a steady, cold stare. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're smart enough to figure it out."

He rose from the couch, his movements slow and deliberate. His presence filled the room like a blade pressed against the skin—controlled, but dangerous. His eyes flicked toward the window.

"Are you expecting someone?" he asked.

"No," I said. "But someone seems very curious tonight."

He stepped closer to the window, but positioned himself at an angle, half behind the curtain—silent, strategic. His eyes narrowed.

"I see someone," he mouthed,

"I know." I folded my arms, " Seems like your stalker is too interest in you to think about the time."

"They’ve been following me longer than I assumed," he muttered. "I dismissed it before."

"And now you can't."

He remained quiet, his jaw clenching once. "I don’t want this brought to your doorstep. I am sorry again. This is seriously messed up!"

"Too late," I replied simply. " But it's quite interesting though!"

He glanced at me again. "Should I confront them?"

"No," I said immediately. "They want a reaction. If you give them one, they’ll escalate."

He didn’t argue. He just watched the window a moment longer, his expression unreadable.

"They're watching you now," he said, " They might come after me."

"I'm used to people watching me. They can't do much anyway. More like exposing that you spent two nights in my house once again."

His eyes shifted back to me, lingering. "Why does nothing frighten you? It's like you are enjoying it."

"Because fear doesn't solve anything." I grinned, " Also I see things optimistically!"

A brief, humorless breath escaped him—too cold to be called a laugh. "You're unusual."

"And you're surprised?"

"It's an observation." He whispered, walking away from the window. " Should we keep it open?"

" Don't mind it. Let them think we didn't see them. Lily will do it later!"

After a moment he looked around the room. "Do you have something I can change into?"

"Drawer under the stairs. Second one."

He walked away, and even his footsteps carried authority. When he came back, wearing the emergency clothes I kept, he examined the sweatpants like they personally offended him.

"These are inadequate," he muttered. " Whose are those?" He asked, taking a glance at me.

"Be grateful. Mr Brightblade. They're David's anyway." I said, finding the size was seriously small. Lycans' are just out of normal size. Everything needed to be customised.

He sat down again, this time allowing himself to rest against the cushions, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t fully disappear.

"Miss Thorne," he said quietly. "Thank you."

"For what?" I froze, turning towards him.

"For letting me stay. And for not panicking. I thought my people were understanding and knew that they shouldn't mess with me. But it seems like I underestimated them." I could hear his teeth grinding with rage.

"I told you," I said, settling back. "I'm used to this."

Night settled heavily around us. Eventually, exhaustion pulled him into a light, guarded sleep. He didn’t fully relax—not even then. Every so often his muscles tensed, as if expecting something to happen.

I glanced toward the window again. The figure was gone—but the uneasiness they left behind wasn’t.

I walked towards the door, opened it and stood outside on the porch. The scent once again left a faint presence in the air but it was quite familiar. A new scent that I came across.

" My Lady!" Lily appeared from behind, " Should I send our people?" She asked in a low tone.

" Nah. Let them keep it up. It's interesting!" I couldn't stop myself grinning. Each time, they'd try to bring me down, they would make Cassius feel guilty. And I needed to get into his life more than just a business partner right now.

I walked in, my voice sharp as I added, " Tell David that I will meet Jennifer tomorrow."