Glass Cage

Dante

I stepped into Cassian's office, the aroma of whiskey and cigarette smoke heavy in the air. Curtains were closed, shadows covering the dark mahogany desk where he sat, fingers tapping impatiently against the surface. His jaw was set, his normal stoic expression replaced by something somber—something brooding.

I knew that look.

Carmela.

"You look like hell," I snarled, closing the door behind