023 - Coming Back

023 - Coming Back
|||YASMIN|||

Cassien's eyes found mine, and the pain in them nearly stole my breath. His jaw worked, muscles jumping beneath the skin as if he was chewing on words too bitter to swallow. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked at the edges.

"What are you doing, Yasmin?" He took a step closer, his hand lifting before falling back to his side. "Why are you so eager to end our marriage? After everything we've been through?"

Something inside me wavered. My chest tightened, memories flooding in—quiet mornings, his laugh, the way he used to trace patterns on my back when he thought I was asleep. Four years of my life, standing right there in front of me, asking me why.

But then I remembered her. The other woman. The swell of her belly. The way he'd looked at me when he told me, like I was the unreasonable one.

I straightened my spine, lifting my chin. My hands balled into fists at my sides, nails cutting crescents into my palms. "You started this." The words came out steady, harder than I felt. "You got another woman pregnant. You tossed me aside like I was nothing," I exhaled shaking, "You hurt me, Cassien."

He flinched, actually stumbled back half a step.

"What did you expect would happen?" My voice rose, heat flooding my face. "Did you expect me to settle for being just a concubine? You know very well the kind of family I descend from. Remaining as your wife has become beneath me now."

The pain in his face twisted, morphing into something uglier. His blue eyes flashed, darkening like storm clouds. His lips pulled back in a snarl that showed teeth, and his whole body went rigid with rage.

"Is that why you suddenly started fucking my brother the second he arrived?"

The crude word hit me like a slap. Heat crept up my neck, but I felt Zeirik's hand tighten slightly around mine—steady, grounding.

Cassien moved closer, his boots heavy on the stone floor. "Do you know what kind of man he is, Yasmin?" Spit flew from his mouth with the force of his words. "He's a barbaric animal who takes pleasure from killing. How long till he grows tired of you like I did?" Cassien's eyes narrowed at the spot where Zeirik's hand and mind joined, "You think you have what it takes to keep a man as crazed as my brother?"

Crazed?

My heart stuttered, skipping a beat before racing too fast. I couldn't stop myself—I looked up at Zeirik, searching his face. Would he be angry? Hurt? Would Cassien's words plant doubt?

But Zeirik's expression was calm, almost bored. He watched his brother the way someone might watch a child having a tantrum. One eyebrow lifted, and then he shrugged, the gesture slow and deliberate.

"It's sad to see you still haven't changed, Cas." His voice was conversational, like they were discussing the weather. "Even after a decade of me going to war, you're still the same spoiled child," Zeirik sighed, "I thought you'd be different, smarter."

Then he laughed. The sound rolled through the hallway, rich and genuine, his head tilting back slightly. "Though I must say, brother, bringing your guards into the general's wing?" He gestured lazily at the armed men flanking Cassien. "That's a clear sign of disrespect. Anything that happens in this building..." Zeirik took a slow step forward, "...is completely on you, baby brother."

Cassien's face went red. He lunged forward a step, his hands clenching into fists that shook at his sides. "I'm here for my wife." Each word came out through gritted teeth. "And I won't be leaving without her."

"Ex-wife." The correction left my mouth cold and sharp as a blade. I moved closer to Zeirik, close enough that his warmth touched my side, that his scent wrapped around me. "Zeirik is my fiancé now. I'm under his protection."

I watched as the expression on Cassien's face turned into one of pure shock as my words sank in.
"Fiance?" He spat the word out as though it soiled his tongue.
Then his face reddened with rage and I noted how his eyes changed, darkened even further as his wolf struggled for control.

I met Cassien's glare head-on, refusing to look away. "And if you learned anything from me while I made you the man you are today, you should know the pack's council won't take well to you declaring war on a general who just came home victorious. A general who ended a war that's been going on for generations."

Cassien's eyes narrowed to slits. His gaze shifted between me and Zeirik, back and forth, and something calculated entered his expression. His breathing slowed, became measured. "Was this your plan all along?" The question came out quiet, dangerous. "To steal my wife from me?"

Zeirik's laugh came again, lighter this time. His thumb brushed against my knuckles where he held my hand. "Brother, you managed to push your wife away all on your own." He paused, letting the words sink in. "I just saw an opportunity and took it."

For a heartbeat, Cassien went completely still. Then his mouth opened, and laughter poured out—low at first, then building, echoing off the stone walls. But there was no humor in it. The sound made my skin crawl.
His laughter cut off abruptly. "A dirt blood like you will never be king." His smile was all teeth and cruelty. "Even now that you've married a discarded princess." He turned that vicious look on me, and my stomach dropped. "Does he know, Yasmin? Does he know that you're barren? Broken?"

The word slammed into me. Broken. Air rushed from my lungs. My vision blurred at the edges, heat and cold washing over me in waves. Rage exploded in my chest, white-hot and consuming.

I jerked forward, my free hand rising. I wanted to hurt him, to claw that smirk off his face, to make him feel even a fraction of what those words did to me.

But Zeirik's hand caught my arm. His grip was gentle, not holding me back but grounding me, keeping me from flying apart. I whipped my head up to look at him, chest heaving, expecting disgust or disappointment or the beginning of regret.

His eyes held mine. The intensity in them made it hard to breathe for an entirely different reason. Then his lips curved into a small smile—barely there, but real. His thumb traced once across my wrist, feather-light.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Was he angry? Would he call this off? Maybe Cassien was right. Maybe no man would want a barren woman. Maybe I was a fool for thinking—

But the look in Zeirik's eyes didn't change. It stayed steady, calm, like an anchor in a storm.

He turned his attention back to Cassien, and when he spoke, his voice came out soft and slow. Each word was measured, deliberate, carrying a weight that made the guards behind Cassien shift uncomfortably.

"I'm not interested in the throne, Cassien." A pause, heavy and significant. "I never have been. I never will be," Zeirik leaned closer to his brother, a slow, hollow smile stretching his lips, "So leave, before I change my mind."

The words hung in the air. My thoughts spun, questions piling on top of questions. What did he mean? Was this a strategy, throwing Cassien off? Or did he truly mean it? If he didn't want the throne, then what was the point of all this? What did he want from me?

Cassien stared at his brother. His jaw worked, grinding. Then he spat on the floor between them, the gesture crude and filled with contempt. But something in his expression had shifted. The rage was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it had changed into something colder. Something that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"I will be back for you."

He said it directly to me. Not a threat. Not a promise. A certainty. His eyes bore into mine, and I felt the weight of those words settle in my bones.

Then he spun on his heel and walked away, his boots echoing through the hallway. The guards followed behind him. The sound grew fainter but never quite disappeared, like it was imprinted in the stone itself.

I stood frozen. Cold sweat broke out across my back, trickling down my spine. My entire body started shaking—small tremors I couldn't control. My knees felt weak, like they might give out at any moment.

Zeirik's hand was still on my arm. I focused on that, on the warmth of his palm, the solidness of his grip.

When I finally managed to look up at him, his expression had changed completely. The calmness was gone, replaced by something hard and unyielding. His face could have been carved from stone, all sharp angles and shadows. His eyes held a sharpness that reminded me this man had commanded armies, had won a war.

"Let's get married tomorrow."

The words dropped between us like stones into still water.