The silence between them had started to shift. Not soften entirely—Cassian Vale was still a man forged in fire and vengeance—but when Alina walked past him now, his eyes lingered. When she brushed his hand by accident, he didn't pull away. He looked at her like she was something carved out of the past he couldn't bury, and he hated how much he still wanted to feel.
Tonight, she was curled on the couch in one of his shirts, pretending to read while watching him pour two glasses of wine. His sleeves were rolled, neck open, the scar near his collarbone barely visible.
"You're domestic now," she teased. "What's next, candlelit dinners and confessions?"
He handed her the wine, gaze unreadable. "Careful, piccola fiamma. You might start enjoying this cage."
"I already do," she said, too quickly. And then regretted it.
Something passed between them—something too warm, too real.
Cassian sat beside her, stretching an arm along the back of the couch. "Don't start mistaking survival for safety," he murmured, close to her ear. "You're still bait, even if I've stopped calling you that."
She didn't move. "You stopped because you didn't mean it anymore."
"I stopped because I knew you liked it."
Their eyes locked. Tension pulled between them like a taut string, vibrating between rage and desire.
Before either could move, the lights flickered.
Cassian was on his feet instantly. "Stay here."
But Alina had already moved toward the control panel in the hallway. "It's just the generator—"
A sharp, metallic click echoed through the floorboards.
Cassian cursed under his breath, pulling a concealed weapon from beneath the cabinet. He pressed her back against the wall, body shielding hers.
"How many people know about this location?" he growled.
"No one," she whispered.
His eyes darkened. "Then someone found us."
Footsteps crunched on the gravel outside. Cassian signaled her to stay put and slipped into the shadows. Alina's heart pounded as she grabbed the nearest blunt object—a heavy vase—and waited.
Gunfire cracked.
Cassian returned a moment later, blood on his sleeve but not his own. "One down," he said coldly. "There may be more."
Alina's mouth went dry. "Who sent them?"
"I don't know. But someone new is watching."
Cassian changed into a black coat and snapped his gloves on. "Pack. We leave in five."
Alina stood frozen. "Wait. Where are we going?"
He turned to her, eyes burning with restrained fury. "Somewhere they won't find us. And next time you decide to get comfortable, remember this isn't over."
She followed him into the bedroom, hands shaking as she shoved clothes into a duffel. "You think it's someone from my father's circle?"
"No," Cassian muttered. "If it were, they wouldn't have missed."
He paused. "This is something else. Someone who knows I care enough to guard you."
Her chest twisted. "You care?"
He stopped. Looked at her. "That's the problem."
They drove in silence for over an hour, deep into the Italian countryside until they reached a stone fortress veiled in trees. It wasn't a safehouse. It was a battleground.
Inside, it smelled of gun oil, leather, and war plans. Cassian barked orders to guards and locked every exit himself. Then he turned to her.
"You're not leaving my sight."
Alina crossed her arms. "You think I'm the weak link?"
"I think you're the reason someone took a shot at me tonight," he snapped.
Her anger flared. "I didn't ask to be dragged into your bloody world!"
"You walked in the moment you stole that flash drive. You made yourself a player."
"And now?" she whispered. "What am I now?"
Cassian's jaw tightened. "Mine."
The word hung between them like a verdict.
He stepped forward, grabbed her chin. "You're mine until this ends. And when it ends—so do we."
But even as he said it, his mouth crashed down on hers.
They kissed like enemies in a burning room—rough, desperate, consuming. Her fingers tore at his coat, his hands dragged her against him, and when he shoved her against the wall, she didn't stop him. She pulled him closer.
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't romantic.
It was a storm.
And when it ended, tangled in the sheets of an unfamiliar bed, Alina lay still against his chest, breathing hard.
"You'll regret this," she whispered.
He ran a hand down her spine. "I already do."
But he didn't let go.