CASSIAN
The silence in the car was a physical weight, thick with the smell of expensive leather and the stale, sharp tang of the whiskey that seemed to be oozing from my pores. Cyan was staring at me, his eyes searching mine for a crack, for a sign of the man he used to know.
"What the hell happened, Cassian?" he asked again, his voice softer now, more persistent.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. Because the moment I opened my mouth, Noah's voice flooded back into my skull like a toxic tide. "You're pathetic." "You're selfish, heartless." "You manipulate people like it's a fucking game."
