CHAPTER 8 — The Man Who Does Not Forgive Quietly
That night, Cassian did not sleep.
He stood in the west wing.
A place Saraphina was forbidden to enter.
A place filled with things the house did not speak about.
Files.
Records.
Names.
He opened a drawer.
Inside were reports.
Gideon Rourke.
The name appeared again and again.
Debt.
Violence.
Disappearance patterns.
And one note from years ago:
“Subject connected to Vale lineage asset transfer.”
Cassian closed the file slowly.
So it was not random.
It never was.
Saraphina was not in his house by coincidence.
She was placed.
Tracked.
Moved like property between men who thought power made them gods.
Cassian’s phone rang.
He answered without looking.
“Speak.”
A voice on the other end hesitated.
“We found him,” the man said.
Silence.
Cassian’s voice dropped.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Do you want extraction or disposal?”
Cassian looked out toward the hallway where Saraphina’s room was.
Then said quietly:
“Bring him to me.”
Not anger.
Not rage.
May you like
Something colder.
Purpose.
