Chapter 8 - WHAT THE GROOM REMEMBEREDCassian woke three days later.
Marin was asleep in the chair beside him with her head against the mattress.
He moved one finger.
She woke instantly.
“Don’t.”
His voice was rough.
“I only moved my hand.”
“Your hand is attached to muscles attached to stitches.”
He looked down at the bandage across his abdomen.
“You did it.”
“Yes.”
“Good work.”
“Your standards are low.”
“I’m alive.”
“Barely.”
He watched her for a long moment.
“You stayed.”
“June needed access to the hospital.”
“That is not an answer.”
Marin stood and checked his IV.
“You were unconscious.”
“Also not an answer.”
She looked at him.
“Stop interrogating me.”
“I am trying to thank you.”
“You’re bad at it.”
“I offered you money.”
“You offered my sister medicine in exchange for living inside a house where people kept trying to kill us.”
“A generous package.”
She laughed despite herself.
Cassian smiled.
It changed his entire face.
For several seconds, he was not the most feared man in Baltimore.
He was simply a wounded man looking at the woman who had refused to let him die twice.
Then Marin remembered Lucien.
Her expression faded.
“Your father escaped.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Boat beneath the eastern tunnel.”
“Teddy?”
“His body washed onto the shore yesterday.”
Marin closed her eyes.
She had killed him.
Not intentionally.
But her hand had pushed the syringe into his leg.
Cassian saw the guilt.
“He murdered your mother.”
“That does not make me comfortable with his death.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“It shouldn’t.”
She sat again.
“August is in federal custody.”
“Serafina?”
“Testifying.”
“Julian?”
“Safe.”
“Marco?”
“Complaining.”
“Then he’s fine.”
Silence settled.
Cassian touched the edge of his bandage.
“I remember more about the first shooting.”
Marin waited.
“My father moved before the gun fired.”
“What?”
“He pulled me in front of him.”
The room became still.
“You were not protecting him,” Marin said.
“No.”
“He used you as a shield.”
Cassian looked toward the window.
“All these years, I believed I stepped into the path.”
“You were fourteen.”
“He told me I had saved him.”
“So you would carry pride instead of betrayal.”
Cassian laughed bitterly.
“He made me grateful for the scar.”
Marin took his hand.
This time neither pretended the touch was medical.
“You survived him.”
“I became him.”
“No.”
“You don’t know what I’ve done.”
“I know enough.”
“That should make you afraid.”
“It does.”
He looked at her.
Marin did not release his hand.
“I am afraid of the men who obey you without questions,” she said. “I am afraid of rooms where everyone looks at the floor. I am afraid of what your name has done to this city.”
Cassian’s face went still.
“But I am not afraid that you are Lucien.”
“Why?”
“Because he would never have canceled the wedding to save people from a war.”
“I canceled it because I was betrayed.”
“You ordered both families out of the cathedral without firing a shot.”
“That proves nothing.”
“You took a knife trying to save Serafina’s brother.”
“He was a child.”
“So were you.”
Cassian looked away.
Marin squeezed his hand.
“You are not what your father made you carry.”
His breathing changed.
When he looked back, the distance between them felt impossibly small.
“Marin.”
She should have moved.
Instead, she leaned closer.
The first kiss was careful because of his injury.
The second was not.
Cassian’s hand slid behind her neck.
Marin felt his restraint cracking.
She pulled back before either forgot the stitches.
“That was medically irresponsible.”
“Yes.”
“Do not do it again.”
His thumb brushed her jaw.
“Liar.”
A knock sounded.
Marco entered, saw them, and immediately looked at the ceiling.
“I’ll come back.”
“No,” Cassian said.
Marin stepped away, heat rising into her face.
Marco held out a folder.
“We located Lucien.”
Cassian’s expression transformed.
“Where?”
“He never left Baltimore.”
Marin’s stomach tightened.
Marco opened the folder.
A photograph showed Lucien entering a small private clinic.
“He’s receiving treatment.”
“For what?” Cassian asked.
“Pancreatic cancer.”
“How long?”
“Doctors estimate weeks.”
Cassian stared at the photograph.
Lucien was dying.
The knowledge did not bring relief.
Only urgency.
“He has nothing left to lose,” Marin said.
Marco nodded.
“And he took something from the fort.”
“What?”
“The original blood contract.”
Cassian swore.
Marin remembered the preserved blood.
“The contract can transfer the companies.”
“To anyone whose name he adds before filing,” Cassian said.
Marco’s phone rang.
He answered, listened, then looked toward Marin.
“What?”
Marco’s expression darkened.
“The Marquette accounts just moved.”
“All of them?”
“Nearly four hundred million dollars.”
“To where?”
“A medical foundation.”
Marin’s pulse slowed.
“What foundation?”
Marco turned the phone around.
HOLLOWAY CHILDREN’S RELIEF.
Marin stared at her own name.
Then Cassian’s hospital television turned on by itself.
Lucien appeared on-screen in a recorded message.
He sat behind a desk with the blood contract before him.
“Hello, son.”
Cassian went perfectly still.
“By now, you have discovered my final gift.”
Lucien smiled.
“I have placed everything in the name of the woman you cannot protect.”
The screen changed.
A live camera feed appeared.
June walked through a hospital corridor.
May you like
Unaware.
A red targeting dot moved across her back.
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