Chapter 56 Chapter 56

Chapter 56 Chapter 56

CASSIAN'S POV

The jet was too small.

Everything about this trip was too small. The cabin. The seats. The space between us. I had been trapped in this metal tube for three hours with Dominic Costello sitting three feet away, and I was starting to lose my mind.

He had insisted on this trip. Something about a potential partnership. A new hotel chain. An opportunity that could not be discussed over the phone. I knew it was a lie. I knew he was just finding another way to trap me. But my brother's life depended on playing along, so I played along.

I stared out the window. The clouds were white and endless. They looked soft. Like something you could fall into and never come out. I wished I could fall into them. I wished I could disappear.

Dominic was reading. Or pretending to read. His eyes were on the page, but I could feel his attention on me. The weight of his gaze. The heat of his presence. It had been like this for days. Ever since the conference room. Ever since he had laid out his disgusting terms.

Three months.

Three months of this. Three months of his hands on me. Three months of his mouth on me. Three months of pretending I did not want to claw my own skin off.

"You are staring," he said. His voice was smooth. Unbothered.

"I am not staring."

"You are. I can feel it."

I looked away. Back at the clouds. The window was cold against my forehead.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"London."

My heart stopped. "What?"

"London. The meeting is in London. Your old stomping ground."

I turned to look at him. His eyes were on me now. Dark. Amused.

"I do not want to go to London."

"I know."

"Then why are we going?"

"Because I want to see where you lived. Where you hid from me for seven years."

My jaw tightened. My hands clenched into fists.

"I was not hiding from you."

"Yes, you were."

"I was living my life."

"Without me."

"Exactly."

He smiled. That infuriating smile. "That is the definition of hiding."

I looked away. Back at the clouds. The conversation was over. I was done talking to him.

But he was not done talking to me.

"The apartment you had," he said. "Near the river. The one with the view of the Thames. I bought it."

My head snapped toward him. "What?"

"I bought it. Last year. I go there sometimes. To sit in your rooms. To imagine you there."

"You are sick."

"Probably."

"You are obsessed."

"Absolutely."

I stood up. The seatbelt was still on. It yanked me back down. I fumbled with the buckle. My hands were shaking.

"Sit down, Cassian."

"No."

"Sit down."

"I am not sitting down. I am not having this conversation. I am not listening to you talk about my apartment like it is some kind of shrine."

"It is not a shrine. It is a reminder."

"A reminder of what?"

"Of what I lost."

I stared at him. His face was calm. His voice was calm. Everything about him was calm. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to scream. I wanted to make him feel even a fraction of the pain he had caused me.

"You did not lose me," I said. "You threw me away."

"I did not."

"You did. You married someone else. You destroyed me. And now you are sitting here, acting like you are the victim, acting like you have any right to miss me."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he stood up. Walked toward me. I backed away. The seat was behind me. I could not go further.

He stopped in front of me. His body was close. Too close. I could smell his cologne. The same cologne. The one I had smelled on the balcony.

"I miss you every day," he said. "Every hour. Every minute. I have missed you for seven years."

"Then you should have thought about that before you destroyed me."

He reached up. Touched my face. I flinched. He did not stop.

"I am sorry," he said.

The words hung in the air. Unexpected. Unwelcome.

"What?"

"I am sorry, Cassian. For what I did. For how I hurt you. For everything."

I stared at him. My heart was pounding. My hands were shaking.

"You are not sorry."

"I am."

"You are not capable of being sorry."

"Maybe not. But I am sorry anyway."

He leaned in. I turned my face away. His lips brushed my cheek.

"Do not," I said.

"Do not what?"

"Do not touch me."

He did not listen. His hand was still on my face. His thumb traced my cheekbone.

"I missed you," he said again. "I missed the way you look at me when you think I am not watching. I missed the way you say my name when you are tired. I missed the way you feel in my arms."

"Stop."

"I cannot stop."

"Dominic."

"I have tried. For seven years, I have tried. I have done everything I could to forget you. Nothing worked."

He kissed me.

I pushed him away. He came back. I pushed him harder. He grabbed my wrists. Pinned them above my head.

"Let me go," I said.

"No."

"Dominic."

"Say my name again."

"Let me go."

"I missed that too. The way you fight me. The way you never give up."

I struggled. He held me in place. His body was pressed against mine. His lips were on my neck.

"I hate you," I said.

"I know."

"I hate you so much."

"I know."

"I wish I had never met you."

He pulled back. Looked at me. His eyes were dark.

"No, you do not."

"Yes, I do."

"If you had never met me, you would have never known what it felt like to be loved."

"You did not love me."

"I did."

"You used me."

"I loved you."

"You destroyed me."

"I loved you."

The words echoed between us. Heavy. Broken.

"You do not know what love is," I said.

"Maybe not. But I know what you are to me."

"What am I?"

"Everything."

I stopped struggling. My body went limp. The fight drained out of me.

He kissed me again. Softer this time. Almost gentle. I did not push him away. I did not have the strength.

When he pulled back, his eyes were on mine.

"We are landing soon," he said. "Get ready."

He walked back to his seat. Sat down. Picked up his book. Like nothing had happened.

I stood there. My wrists were red where he had held them. My lips were tingling. My heart was pounding.

I sat down. Buckled my seatbelt. Stared out the window.

The clouds were still there. White and endless. I wished I could fall into them. I wished I could disappear.

\---

The meeting was in a glass building near the river.

The conference room was cold. The chairs were uncomfortable. The people were boring. I sat at the table and pretended to listen while Dominic did all the talking.

He was good at this. Charming. Persuasive. He had everyone eating out of his hand. They laughed at his jokes. They nodded at his proposals. They signed his papers without reading them.

I sat in my chair and watched him. The way he moved. The way he spoke. The way he commanded the room. He was the same Dominic I had known. Confident. Powerful. Untouchable.

But he was also different. Harder. Colder. The light in his eyes was gone. The laughter was hollow. He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.

He looked like someone who had gotten everything he wanted and realized it was not enough.

The meeting ended. People shook hands. Gathered their things. Left the room.

Dominic stayed. His eyes were on me.

"How did I do?" he asked.

"You were fine."

"Just fine?"

"You were adequate."

He laughed. The sound was hollow. "You are impossible."

"I am honest."

"Same thing."

He walked toward me. I stood up. Backed away.

"Do not," I said.

"Do not what?"

"Do not come near me."

"Why not?"

"Because I am tired. I am tired of you. I am tired of this. I am tired of pretending."

"Pretending what?"

"Pretending that I do not want to scream every time you touch me."

He stopped. His expression was unreadable.

"Then scream," he said.

"What?"

"Scream. I want to hear it."

I stared at him. His eyes were dark. His face was calm. He was serious.

"You are insane," I said.

"I know."

"Completely insane."

"I know."

"I am leaving."

I walked toward the door. He grabbed my arm. Pulled me back. I stumbled against him. His hands were on my waist.

"Let me go," I said.

"No."

"Dominic."

"I told you. I am not letting you go. Not again. Not ever."

He kissed me. Hard. Bruising. His teeth scraped my lip. His tongue forced its way into my mouth.

I pushed him. He held me tighter. I hit him. He did not move. I bit him. He kissed me harder.

When he pulled back, his lip was bleeding. His eyes were wild.

"Still fighting," he said.

"Always."

"Good. I like it when you fight."

He kissed me again. I stopped fighting. I let him kiss me. I let him hold me. I let him pretend that I was his.

Because I was tired. Because I was broken. Because I did not have the strength to fight anymore.

When he pulled back, his eyes were on mine.

"Good boy," he said.

I did not say anything.

\---

We flew back that night.

The jet was dark. The cabin was quiet. Dominic was asleep in his seat. His head was lolled to the side. His face was peaceful.

I watched him. The rise and fall of his chest. The way his lips were slightly parted. The way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks.

He looked like a different person when he was asleep. Softer. Younger. Less like the monster who had destroyed me.

I looked away. Stared out the window. The sky was black. The stars were bright.

I thought about the meeting. About the kiss. About the way his lips had felt on mine.

I hated him. I hated him so much.

But I still wanted him.

I closed my eyes. Tried to sleep.

I could not.

The jet landed. The doors opened. The cold air rushed in.

Dominic woke up. Stretched. Looked at me.

"Home," he said.

"It is not my home."

"It will be."

I did not argue. I just followed him off the plane. Into the car. To his apartment. His world. His cage.

Three months. I had to survive three months.

I did not know if I could.