Chapter 5 - THE DEAD FATHERCassian did not speak for nearly a minute.
His father, Lucien Marquette, had died in a private plane crash over the Chesapeake Bay.
No bodies were recovered.
The wreckage had burned beneath the water.
Cassian had inherited the family.
Teddy had helped him survive the first year.
Now Lucien stood in a recent photograph wearing a gray coat and holding a newspaper dated six weeks earlier.
Alive.
Marin watched something break behind Cassian’s eyes.
Not grief.
Something older.
A child’s final belief that at least one death had been real.
“He abandoned you,” Marin said softly.
Cassian looked at the photograph.
“He trained me to replace him.”
“Maybe he planned this.”
“The wedding?”
“The wound. The war. Everything.”
Cassian’s hand closed around the edge of the silver box.
“He knew about the first stitch.”
“He was there.”
“He told me the shooter was a Bowmont.”
“What if he lied?”
Cassian laughed once.
The sound contained no humor.
“Then my entire life was built around avenging a bullet fired by the wrong man.”
They removed every record from the hidden chamber.
The ledgers documented nearly thirty years of crimes.
Bribes.
Blackmail.
Smuggling.
Political manipulation.
Executions disguised as accidents.
But one series of transactions appeared repeatedly.
Payments from Lucien Marquette to Teddy Vance.
The final payment was dated the morning of Cassian’s wedding.
Marin found a medical instruction sheet clipped behind it.
Reopen prior scar tissue.
Introduce anticoagulant beneath secondary seam.
Failure expected within forty to seventy minutes.
Cassian would have reached the altar.
He would have begun the ceremony.
Then the wound would have opened.
The anticoagulant would have prevented clotting.
He would have bled in front of hundreds of witnesses while armed Marquette men blamed the Bowmont family.
Marin touched the paper.
“The needle I stole was coated.”
“With what?”
“Something that kept the wound bleeding.”
“Could it have killed me?”
“Yes.”
The word stayed between them.
Cassian stepped closer.
“You knew that morning.”
“I suspected.”
“And you cut it out anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Without gloves.”
“There wasn’t time.”
“You could have poisoned yourself.”
She looked at him.
“You were the one bleeding.”
The anger left his face.
Something warmer replaced it.
That was worse.
Marin looked away first.
They returned to the mansion before dawn.
Serafina had been placed under guard in a guest suite.
June slept in the medical wing.
Marin stayed beside her until Cassian entered.
“Your sister is stable.”
“I know.”
“You should rest.”
“I know.”
Neither moved.
Cassian sat in the chair opposite her.
For once, he looked tired.
Not mafia-boss tired.
Human tired.
“I remembered something,” he said.
“What?”
“The day your mother stitched me.”
Marin waited.
“She told me scars were only dangerous when men used them as maps.”
“What did she mean?”
“I didn’t understand.”
“And now?”
Cassian looked at his chest.
“My father used that wound to teach me who my enemies were.”
“The Bowmonts.”
“Yes.”
“But Teddy made the cut.”
“And my father paid him.”
Marin thought of Evelyn’s warning.
The first stitch saved Cassian.
The second was meant to mark him.
“Your father wanted you to carry proof of the lie on your body.”
Cassian’s gaze lifted.
“Why?”
“So every time you saw the scar, you remembered the enemy he chose for you.”
The door opened.
Serafina entered with two guards behind her.
Cassian stood.
“Who allowed this?”
“I did,” Serafina said.
She looked different without the perfect dress and polished cruelty.
Exhausted.
Ashamed.
Still dangerous.
“I know where Lucien is.”
Cassian’s expression became stone.
“Talk.”
“My father met with him for years.”
“August knew he was alive?”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“Not until six months ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Serafina laughed bitterly.
“Would you have believed me?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
Marin stepped between their lines of anger.
“What did Lucien promise you?”
Serafina looked at her.
“Control of both families.”
“In exchange for marrying Cassian?”
“In exchange for surviving the wedding.”
Cassian’s jaw tightened.
“You knew I would be wounded.”
“I knew something would happen at the ceremony. I did not know about the stitches.”
“You still walked toward the altar.”
“My father told me if I refused, my younger brother would die.”
Marin saw the truth in her face.
Fear.
Real fear.
“Where is your brother now?” Marin asked.
Serafina swallowed.
“Missing.”
Cassian turned away.
“Where is my father?”
“Fort Carroll.”
The abandoned military fort sat in the Patapsco River.
Accessible only by boat.
Isolated.
Easy to defend.
Serafina continued.
“Lucien plans to meet August tomorrow night. They’re dividing the city after Teddy starts the war.”
“Teddy’s plan failed,” Marin said.
“No.”
Serafina’s eyes moved toward the window.
“The ceremony failed.”
She looked at Cassian.
“But every Marquette soldier believes the Bowmonts poisoned you.”
Then she looked at Marin.
“And every Bowmont soldier believes Cassian kidnapped me.”
A distant explosion shook the windows.
The mansion alarms began screaming.
Marco’s voice sounded over the radio.
“Boss, the west gate is under attack.”
Gunfire erupted outside.
May you like
Serafina closed her eyes.
“The war has already started.”
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