A Calculated Encounter

A profound surge of exhilaration coursed through Valerie's veins the second the line went dead. She lowered the phone, relishing the fact that she left Gareth dumbfounded. For years, she had met his harshest insults with meek apologies and cautious silence. Now, she pictured him miles away, staring at his screen and scoffing. She knew he was likely sneering, assuming she was simply playing hard to get. Let him think that, she decided. Her jaw tightened as she firmly vowed to break off their ridiculous, one-sided engagement.

Seeking comfort, Valerie dialed home. The line rang twice before a familiar voice came through the speaker.

"Valerie?"

At the sound of her mother Helena’s voice, a heavy lump formed in Valerie's throat. She fought back tears, her chest tightening as she recalled the tragic murder her mother suffered in the previous timeline. In that past life, her uncle had ruthlessly killed Helena, disguising the crime as a fiery suicide while Valerie rotted in a prison cell.

"Mom," Valerie choked out, forcing her voice steady. "I'm fine. I miss you. I want to come home."

Assuming Valerie had been bullied, Helena frantically promised to pick her up. "Alright, don't move. We can talk about everything when you get back. Where are you? I'll come get you right now."

Valerie rattled off her address. The moment she finished giving her location, her water-damaged phone flickered and died. She slipped the useless device into her damp pocket. Determined to make herself easier to locate for her mother, Valerie pushed past the stiffness in her legs and limped forward through the woods.

She barely made it twenty yards before a muffled groan cut through the rustling leaves. Valerie froze in her tracks. A sharp metallic scent drifted on the breeze, coating the back of her throat. Fresh blood.

Her prison-hardened instincts immediately kicked in. She dropped her stance, her eyes scanning the shadows. She did not usually meddle in dangerous situations, but a specific memory from her past life surfaced. A breaking news broadcast had dominated every channel around this exact time. The powerful Cassian Vane had survived a brutal, bloody ambush. The Vanes were synonymous with power and prestige, and Cassian was the formidable Vane family prodigy holding their empire together. The details of the attack were kept hidden, but she knew he had nearly died in a remote wooded area.

Valerie’s heart hammered against her ribs. She realized the severely injured man bleeding out nearby might be him. Calculating her next steps, she reasoned that earning the favor of such a powerful figure could prove invaluable to her revenge against Gareth and her uncle.

She followed the trail of fresh blood toward a dense cluster of trees. Suddenly, the air shifted. She sensed a swift strike coming from behind.

Instinct took over. Valerie dropped to her knees, instantly throwing her hands up in surrender. "Wait! I'm not a bad guy!" she called out.

The attacker halted his strike mere inches from her neck.

Valerie let out a shaky breath and slowly turned her head. She found herself staring at an extraordinarily handsome, battle-hardened man. His chiseled features were pale and slick with sweat, yet he carried an imposing, dominant weight. He looked like a cornered beast. One of his hands pressed hard against his abdomen, dark blood seeping through his fingers.

"Who are you?" Cassian curtly demanded, his voice a harsh rasp.

Valerie blinked innocently at him. "I heard a noise and wanted to see if anyone needed help. My family is arriving soon to pick me up. I can take you to the hospital."

Cassian remained unmoved by her apparent good intentions. His piercing gaze swept over her disheveled state. "Get lost," he said harshly.

Valerie stared at him, stunned by his extreme rudeness. The man was bleeding out, yet he still acted like an arrogant jerk. She spun on her heel, intending to leave him to his fate.

She took three steps before a heavy, sickening thud echoed behind her.

Stopping in her tracks, Valerie glanced over her shoulder. Cassian had collapsed unconscious onto the forest floor, his massive frame motionless among the dead leaves.

Grumbling under her breath about his attitude, Valerie returned to his side to examine his injuries. She pulled his hand away from his stomach. A deep gash tore across his abdomen, bleeding profusely. Realizing he would bleed out with no one else around, she acted practically.

Valerie unzipped her damp jacket. She grabbed the hem of her thin tank top and pulled it over her head, leaving herself in just her bra and the jacket. She quickly zipped the jacket back up to her chin to guard against the chill. Taking the thin tank top, she folded the fabric over itself to create a makeshift, tight bandage.

She pressed the wadded fabric directly against his bleeding flesh, pulling the ends tight around his waist to apply pressure. In a small, petty act of defiance against his earlier dismissive attitude, she tied the bloody fabric into a neat, conspicuous bow right over his stomach.

She sat back, inspecting the scene. The bright bow sat ridiculous and perfect atop the terrifying crime boss's bloody abdomen. Expressing satisfaction with her handiwork, she brushed the dirt off her knees, clapped her hands, and left the grove without looking back.

Soon after she departed, the quiet woods erupted with noise. A heavily armed convoy of Vane family bodyguards swarmed the area. Dozens of men in black combed the tree line, weapons drawn. They quickly found Cassian beneath the trees and carefully loaded the unconscious man into a secure vehicle.

As the car sped away from the woods, the sudden motion jolted Cassian. His heavy eyelids fluttered open. The pain in his stomach flared, drawing his gaze downward. He stared in sheer disbelief at the bright, ridiculous bow sitting squarely on his stomach.

The image of the delicate girl's bright, mischievous eyes flashed through his groggy mind. He remembered her damp clothes and the innocent way she threw her hands in the air.

Sitting across from him in the spacious cabin was his trusted friend and elite doctor, Lennox Croft. Lennox paused his medical preparations, staring at the bow. A distinct smirk curled his lips. He reached out and flicked the makeshift dressing.

"Well, well," Lennox teasingly pointed out. "Is this a girl's tank top?"

Cassian clenched his jaw. He was a man known throughout the city for keeping women at a distance, tossing aside anyone who tried to get close. Now, he was laying in the back of an SUV, bandaged in a woman's undergarment tied like a gift. He chose to ignore the teasing from Lennox.

"Just focus on treating the wound," Cassian sighed, his voice rough. "Or are you hoping I bleed out in your car?"

Lennox chuckled, reaching for his scissors to cut the ridiculous bow away. "With me here, you aren't going anywhere. My skills are more than enough to handle this."

Cassian closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the leather seat. The roar of the engine blurred into the background. Despite the throbbing pain in his gut, his thoughts drifted back to the charming face of the girl in the woods. He snorted softly, the sound barely audible over the tires.

*Scheming little girl.*