Kieran
Cassidy had been silent for most of the drive.
Not just quiet—silent.
She sat stiffly in the backseat of the SUV, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her golden eyes locked on the rain-speckled window. She hadn't looked at me once since we left the estate.
But I could feel her anger.
It clung to her, sharp and bitter, thick enough to drown in.
Let her be angry.
Anger meant she hadn't broken yet.
The road stretched long and uneven ahead of us, the deep woods casting long shadows as we moved toward the private airstrip. I could hear the faint sound of static crackling from the radio, the occasional murmur from the guards in the front seat.
And then—finally—Cassidy spoke.
Not to me.
Not even to Damon.
But to the window, as if the words weren't meant to be heard.
"I've never left before."
The sentence was quiet. Barely audible over the hum of the engine.
But I caught it.
I watched her carefully. "Left where?"
She hesitated. Her fingers tightened around her sleeves. "America."
I didn't know why that surprised me.
I had spent centuries moving across borders, traveling between cities, continents. But Cassidy—she had spent her whole life in one place.
One country.
One cage.
I leaned back, resting my arm along the edge of the seat. "It's not as different as you think."
Cassidy finally turned to look at me.
And gods—her eyes burned.
"It's not different for you," she bit out. "You're not being taken somewhere you don't want to go."
I held her gaze. "You're safer in Canada."
Her lips parted, then closed.
I saw it—the flicker of conflict, the war inside her.
She knew staying in America meant Garrick. It meant punishment. It meant death.
But leaving?
Leaving meant abandoning everything she had ever known.
Leaving her mother.
She turned away again, her shoulders curling inward. "You don't know what it's like to leave someone behind,to know you might never see them again."
She was wrong.
I did know.
I just didn't let myself remember.
I didn't respond.
Because I wasn't going to lie to her.
By the time we reached the airstrip, the sun was barely cresting the horizon.
Cassidy tensed beside me as the car rolled to a stop near the waiting jet, her breath catching when she caught sight of it.
She hadn't realized where we were going until now.
And I could see the moment it hit her.
"No."
The word left her lips before she could stop it, raw and panicked.
"No, no, no—"
She moved.
She lunged for the door handle.
I was faster.
I caught her wrist before she could even touch it, pulling her back into the seat.
She thrashed, wild and desperate, her free hand clawing at my arm, her legs kicking out as she fought.
I had seen her angry.
I had seen her defiant.
But I had never seen her so afraid.
And this?
This wasn't just fear.
This was terror.
"Let me go!" she choked. "I can't—I can't go on that thing! I heard people die all the time from flying!"
Realization struck like a bolt of lightning.
She wasn't just fighting me.
She was fighting the plane.
I frowned. "You've never flown before."
Cassidy's breath hitched, her fingers digging into my sleeve. "No—"
Damon chuckled from the front seat. "Well, this is going to be a nice experience."
Cassidy snapped.
She wrenched herself free, launching at the door again.
I caught her—again—this time pinning her back against the seat, my hands braced on either side of her.
"Enough," I growled.
She wasn't listening.
She thrashed, her pulse hammering, her skin burning beneath my grip.
"I can't—" she gasped. "I can't—"
I wasn't sure if she meant the plane.
Or me.
"Breathe," I said, my voice low. "Cassidy, look at me."
She refused.
She clenched her eyes shut, her body trembling, her breath coming in rapid, panicked gasps.
Shit.
I had expected anger. Defiance. Even another weak escape attempt.
But I hadn't expected this.
I didn't let go.
But I didn't tighten my grip, either.
Instead, I lowered my head slightly, looking at her straight in the eyes, I could feel her hot breath on my face but I ignored it. My voice firm but steady. "It's just a plane."
Her chest heaved.
"You're not going to die." I slowly place my hand on her cheek still maintaining eye contact.
She flinched.
She had thought that.
She had thought I was throwing her into something she couldn't survive.
Something she couldn't escape.
I exhaled slowly, my grip finally loosening. "We're leaving, Cassidy. That isn't changing."
I let the words settle.
I let the truth of them sink in.
Then—softer—
"But I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
Her golden eyes continued to stare into mine.
I held her gaze.
I let her see that I meant it.
And after a long, heavy pause—
She stopped fighting.
She didn't move.
She didn't speak.
She just breathed.
Damon cleared his throat. "That was unexpectedly tender."
Cassidy jerked away from me so fast that I barely caught the movement.
Her walls slammed back into place, her expression shuttered.
She hated that moment.
She hated that she had let me see her fear.
"Screw you," she muttered under her breath, shoving past me and out of the car.
I smirked.
That was more like it.
Cassidy spent most of the flight curled against the window, silent.
Not sleeping. Not relaxed.
Just thinking.
Her fingers still trembled slightly, curled into the soft fabric of her dress.
She hated this.
Hated me.
But she was here.
And soon, we would land in my territory.
And then?
Then, she would truly understand—
There was no escaping me.