Chapter 271
Cassian's POV
"If you loved these dresses so much eight hours ago, why the hell didn't you just buy them then?" I muttered, not bothering to hide my irritation as I watched her disappear behind yet another curtain with an armful of fabric that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent.
Sarah's laugh drifted out, light and deliberately carefree in that way that set my teeth on edge. "Because, Cassian, I need to find the perfect dress for the Luna Ball that I'm hosting. This is important."
I bit back the retort burning on my tongue—that she wasn't actually Luna, that this whole charade was temporary, that every second I spent here was another second away from Elowen. Instead, I glanced at the young sales associate hovering near the register, her name tag reading "Chloe" in neat script. The girl's eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, her posture screaming that she wanted nothing more than to lock up and go home to whatever normal life awaited her outside this gilded prison of consumerism.
The store had been closed to regular customers for three hours now. I'd paid an obscene amount to keep them open, all because Sarah had insisted she "couldn't possibly shop with those people around—what if they tried to sabotage my ball?" The memory of writing that check still made my jaw clench.
"You know," I called toward the fitting room, unable to stop myself, "my mother offered to help you prepare. She even mentioned lending you one of her gowns from the archive. Any particular reason you turned that down?"
The rustling of fabric stopped. When Sarah emerged, she wore a different dress—this one covered in ruffles and rhinestones that caught the light like a disco ball—and her expression had shifted from playful to petulant.
"I'm going to be their daughter-in-law, Cassian. Their Luna. They should be supporting me, helping me make this ball spectacular." She turned to examine herself in the three-way mirror, smoothing her hands down the fitted bodice. "Instead, your mother's too busy fawning over her. Helping her prepare, giving her dresses, doing everything except licking her bleached asshole."
My hands curled into fists on my thighs, Zero growling low in my mind at the crude reference to Elowen. I forced myself to breathe slowly, to remember that this was all performance, all part of the plan to keep Elowen safe. But fuck, it was getting harder to swallow the bile that rose every time Sarah opened her mouth.
"She didn't give me a dress," Sarah continued, her voice rising with manufactured hurt. "Didn't offer to help me plan. It's like she doesn't even want me to succeed."
I stayed silent, knowing anything I said would only fuel this particular fire. The truth was, my mother saw right through Sarah—had from the beginning. Luna Ella might have to play along with this farce for political reasons, but she'd made her feelings about Sarah's "elevation" to future Luna painfully clear in private conversations that still echoed in my head.
"That girl is poison, Cassian. Whatever you and your brother are planning, it better be worth destroying your mother's faith in you."
"Classic A-line, tulle layers, sequined mermaid cut," Sarah rattled off dress styles like she was reading a menu, pulling me from my thoughts. "What do you think? How long is this going to take?"
How much is this going to cost? I thought grimly, but what I said was, "Take your time. We're in no rush."
It was a lie. I was calculating every minute, every second that ticked by while Elowen was god knows where, probably thinking I'd chosen this vapid, cruel woman over her. The weight of that deception sat like lead in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Chloe shifted her weight near the counter, and I caught the soft growl of her stomach in the quiet store. The girl was practically swaying on her feet, and when I checked my watch, I realized we'd been here past dinner time. She probably hadn't eaten since lunch.
"Have you eaten anything today?" I asked her directly, my voice cutting through Sarah's continued monologue about dress options.
Chloe's eyes widened, clearly surprised to be addressed. She shook her head mutely.
"She needs to drop a few pounds anyway," Sarah's voice came from inside the fitting room, sharp and dismissive. "Who cares?"
The casual cruelty of it hit me like a slap. I watched Chloe's face crumple slightly before she schooled her expression back to neutral professionalism, but the damage was done. That small moment of hurt, of being reduced to nothing more than her body by someone who should know better—it ignited something in me that had been simmering all day.
"This is our Luna?" Zero's voice was disgusted in my mind. "This is who we're supposed to follow? To respect?"
I stood up slowly, my decision crystallizing with each second. No. Absolutely fucking not. I wouldn't tolerate this, wouldn't stand by while Sarah treated people like they were beneath her simply because she could. The plan to protect Elowen didn't require me to lose every shred of my own integrity in the process.
And maybe—just maybe—this was about more than Sarah. Maybe it was about all the times I'd been a complete asshole to Elowen when we were kids, all the times I'd let Casper's "brotherly teasing" go too far, all the times I'd stood by and watched people be cruel because it was easier than standing up. I was supposed to be a leader someday. Leaders didn't let bullies operate unchecked, even when—especially when—those bullies claimed to be on their side.
"I'll be right back," I said, already heading for the door.
I found one of the security guards I'd hired for the evening standing outside, a burly man with tired eyes who'd been on his feet as long as Chloe had.
"You hungry?" I asked him.
He blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "Sir?"
"I need you to do me a favor. Help me teach my girl a lesson in manners."
Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by what looked suspiciously like satisfaction. "Happy to help, sir."
Five minutes later, I returned to find Sarah still in the fitting room, her voice carrying through the door as she critiqued yet another dress option. The security guard followed me in carrying a tray from the local deli—sandwiches, protein bars, chips, and bottles of water. The smell of fresh bread and roasted turkey filled the boutique.
"Have a seat," I told him, gesturing to the couch I'd vacated. He did, setting the tray on the coffee table between us.
I reached for a protein bar just as Sarah emerged in another gown—this one a explosion of ruffles and crystals that would've looked more at home on a pageant stage than at a dignified pack ball. Her eyes locked onto the food immediately, and she started forward with the kind of greedy focus that would've been embarrassing if she'd had any self-awareness.
I shook my head slightly, redirecting my gesture toward Chloe instead.
"Please, help yourself," I said to the young sales associate, my voice deliberately gentle. "You've earned it, working this late."
The security guard nodded his agreement. "Chloe, you've been here longer than any of us. You need to eat something."
Sarah's face went through a fascinating series of expressions—confusion, then disbelief, then outrage. "Are you kidding me?" she sputtered. "Why does she get priority? She needs the carbs?"