Mine to Avenge

Cassian

Water splashed over the marble edge of the massive pool. Cassia shrieked with bright, ringing laughter. The sound echoed across the backyard patio, bouncing off the stone walls and cutting through the heavy summer heat. She paddled around the shallow end, slapping the water surface with her small hands. Her wide smile hit me like a physical blow. It provided a stark, beautiful contrast to the dark thoughts swirling in my head. It looked exactly like her mother's.

Nadia rarely smiled. My wife kept her expressions locked down tight behind a mask of indifference. On the few occasions a genuine smile managed to break through her guarded exterior, it dismantled every defense I possessed. It left me exposed and craving more.

My phone buzzed against my thigh. I pulled it from my pocket and checked the screen. Another tiny debit alert blinked back at me. A string of similar notifications lined my screen from the past few hours. Nadia was finally using the black card I forced into her hand last night. She was spending money, but the amounts were frustratingly small. I wanted her to drain the account. I wanted her to walk into a high-end boutique and buy out the inventory. Instead, she bought a coffee and a handful of mundane, inexpensive items. For a woman of her new stature as my wife, she was spending far too modestly.

I opened a social media app. Nadia’s name dominated the trending list. Bloggers and paparazzi had uploaded candid pictures of her walking through a local mall. I stared at the bright screen. She wore a simple outfit, her head bowed slightly to avoid the flashing cameras. Seeing her beautiful face brought a familiar, savage fury bubbling to the surface.

My mind dragged me back to the abusive foster family she had finally escaped. They adopted her and her sister, treating them like disposable trash. Her sister died under their brutal watch. Nadia agreed to sleep with me in the beginning just to honor her sister's memory and get the money she needed. Those people broke her down, giving her crippling panic attacks and a deep fear of the dark. I wanted to bleed them dry. I invited them to our wedding specifically to look them in the eye and let them know their reign of terror was over. Her idiot foster brother actually thought he could lay a hand on her in my presence. If he did not share a past with her, I would have put a bullet in his skull before he took his next breath.

I scrolled down to another picture. The camera caught her glancing over her shoulder. The gentle curve of her jaw and the soft sway of her hips translated even through a static image. A heavy, burning heat pooled low in my groin. I gripped the phone tighter. She did not have to try. A simple lick of her lower lip could make my cock twitch with hard, undeniable need. The physical obsession I had with her burned hotter every single day.

The phone vibrated in my palm, swapping the photo of my wife for an incoming call screen. It was an unsaved number. I recognized the arrogant voice instantly. I swiped the green icon and brought the device to my ear.

Nikolai Ivanov let his mocking voice drawl over the line. "Cassian Thorne. From the look of things, you had your wedding recently. I couldn't attend. I was out of town."

"You weren't invited." I kept my voice deadly quiet.

"You hurt my feelings by not sending me an invitation. I'll forgive you. How's your new slut?"

My blood boiled. A dark, murderous rage surged through my chest. "Let's meet up and have you say that again to my face."

Nikolai chuckled. The sound grated against my eardrum, proving he was unfazed by my threat. "You are scary, Thorne. I have no plans to piss you off. But if you get this defensive over that woman, you will hate what I have to say next. Did you know your wife is engaged to me? We had to postpone our wedding. I am livid to know you claimed what is mine."

"Didn't you call off the engagement because of your greed?"

"It is called an alliance. That former alliance is officially over now. I want her back."

I stood up from the lounge chair. "Nadia is my woman. I won't joke with what belongs to me."

Nikolai scoffed loudly. "Are you sure about that? Because she is in front of me right now. Unguarded."

The world stopped spinning. Pure ice flooded my veins. A cold, blind panic seized my chest, stealing the oxygen from my lungs. I threw the phone onto the lawn chair and sprinted toward the water. I grabbed Cassia by her waist and yanked her out of the pool in one swift, desperate motion. The little girl gasped in surprise, water dripping down her legs. I hauled her against my chest and bolted toward the back doors of the mansion.

I burst through the glass doors. Martha jumped up from the sofa in the sitting room, her eyes wide with alarm.

"Take care of Cassia." I shoved the dripping child into the nanny's arms and sprinted down the long hallway toward the foyer. My heart slammed against my ribs. I reached for the gun holstered at my waist, preparing to tear Nikolai apart with my bare hands.

The front doors opened.

Nadia walked peacefully inside. She let out a soft breath, her arms safely clutching a few shopping bags. She was untouched. She was safe. She dropped the bags onto the marble floor and rolled her shoulders. Cassia wiggled out of Martha’s grip and ran toward Nadia, her wet feet slapping against the tiles.

I stopped in the middle of the hallway. The adrenaline crashed through my veins, leaving a severe tremor in my hands. I snatched my phone back out of my pocket, realizing I had grabbed it from the chair without thinking. I put it to my ear.

Nikolai let out a sickening, mocking laugh through the speaker. "Did you think I was serious? I was just pulling your legs, Cassian. Now, isn't this interesting. I am going to have fun with her."

"Don't get on my nerves, Nikolai." I ground the words out through clenched teeth.

"How would I have fun if I don't get on your nerves? I will see you at the gala tomorrow. Come with Mrs. Thorne."

The line went dead. I ended the call abruptly and lowered the phone.

"Who was it?" Martha asked from the doorway of the sitting room.

I ignored her. My gaze fixed onto Nadia. I marched up to her, the fear instantly converting into cold, authoritative protectiveness. "I will assign a heavily armed guard to you. Do not leave this house without being accompanied by him."

Nadia frowned. She planted her hands on her hips, her independent streak flaring up. "I am not a kid, Cassian. I can take care of—"

I hit her with a dark, terrifying scowl. The intense glare silenced her instantly. She snapped her mouth shut, rolling her eyes in defiance. She leaned down, scooped up Cassia, and walked over to me. She extended her hand. My black credit card rested on her palm.

"I used it. Thanks." She spoke quietly, a hint of exhaustion in her tone.

I pushed her hand back toward her chest. "It's yours, princess. Keep it."

Her jaw dropped slightly. The pet name hung in the air between us. She blinked, glancing sideways at Martha. A rare, beautiful flicker of shyness softened her usually guarded features. The defiant edge in her posture melted away for a fleeting second. I wanted to reach out and pull her against me. Instead, I turned on my heel and headed up the sweeping staircase toward my office.

I shut the heavy oak door of my office behind me. The secluded silence of the room did nothing to calm my racing pulse. The threat against Nadia lingered in the air like poison. I walked around the massive mahogany desk and dialed Jaxon to meticulously confirm the security details for tomorrow.

He answered on the first ring.

"What is this I am hearing about a gala?" I asked, pacing the length of the room.

Jaxon paused for a beat. "There is a high-stakes gala at Crestmont Art Gallery tomorrow night. I was going to tell you. Since you just got married, I figured you might need time."

"Do I need to be there?"

"Yes. It will be good for us. Alliances can be formed. We need the face time."

I stopped pacing. "Give the phone to Petra."

Jaxon hesitated. "I'm not really with Petra right now."

I remained silent. I knew Jaxon spent every free minute hovering around Petra. He was hopelessly smitten with her, even though she gave him nothing in return. I heard the faint rustle of clothing and a muffled exchange of voices.

A moment later, Petra’s voice came through the speaker.

"Get a dress for Nadia for the gala tomorrow and send it to me." I explicitly ordered her without a greeting.

Petra let out a heavy sigh through the phone. Her deep disapproval and jealousy were palpable across the line. "Is she coming with us? Cassian, I get that she is your wife. Do you think it is okay for her to tag along with you for events?"

My patience snapped. "Do as I say."

I cut her off with sharp, brutal finality. Petra had known me for years. She knew I never did things impulsively. Nadia had lived under the shadow of Nikolai’s lackeys. She knew the brutal nature of the Mafia. She knew all too well how the ruthless men in the underworld treated women as mere disposable possessions. She likely expected me to treat her the exact same way. I was determined to prove to her—and to every single enemy in our world—that my wife commanded total, unwavering respect. Bringing her to the Crestmont Art Gallery was the first step.

Petra forced the words out, though her tone remained stiff. "I am sorry. I should know my place. I just felt like—"

"That is enough." I ended the conversation.

I tossed the phone onto the desk and leaned my knuckles against the polished wood. Jaxon and Petra had been my loyal people for years. We shared a horrific past. Jaxon’s father had been my dad's second-in-command. Both men were abusive tyrants who beat the warmth out of us. Jaxon and I survived our childhoods by bonding over the shared trauma of our abusive upbringings. We grew up and morphed into the exact monsters our fathers wanted us to be.

Petra joined us later. I found her in a dark alley during one of my rebellious teenage years. A drunk rapist had her pinned to the ground. I remembered the sheer terror in her eyes. I remembered the deep, crushing weight of abuse. I pulled my gun and brutally killed the man, putting a bullet straight through his head to save her life. He was my first kill. I never regretted it. The literal blood of that rapist tied the three of us together.

I trusted them as much as the paranoid Mafia world allowed. But Petra’s glaring, unchecked resentment toward Nadia was quickly getting on my last nerve. The underlying hostility in her voice grated on me. Petra was my person, but I made a hard internal vow right then and there. I would not condone her disrespectful attitude toward my wife for another second. If she crossed the line again, I would handle her just like anyone else who disrespected the Thorne name. The upcoming gala would be the ultimate test.