Reluctant Passenger

A cold shudder ran down my spine at the deep rumble of his voice. I kept my eyes fixed on the carpeted floor, refusing to look over my shoulder and meet his gaze. Oliver still held my elbow, his touch the only thing anchoring me while panic scratched at my throat. I could not be near Cassian. Not tonight.

I patted Oliver's hand and spoke in a rush. "It is fine, you do not have to bother. Oliver is already taking Harper and me home."

Weston’s forehead creased, his irritation spilling over into anger. He looked from me to Oliver, his jaw tightening hard.

"Genevieve, if I remember correctly, he just got here. And now you are dragging him out along with Harper?" Weston threw his hands up, his voice cutting through the muffled bass from the club. "If you don't want to spend time with me today, you don't have to drag everyone else out of my party with you, do you?"

His accusation struck like a blade to the ribs. Tears stung my eyes, burning behind my lids as the air emptied from my lungs. I wanted to scream that his radiant fiancée had systematically destroyed my life four years ago, ruining everything I had tried to build. I wanted to tell him that breathing the same air as the two of them felt like choking.

Instead, the thick lump in my throat kept me silent. Weston shook his head and turned away before I could speak, walking back toward the lounge to rejoin his guests.

Harper grabbed my fingers with a worried frown. "Genevieve, wait. You are sick. I will come with you."

"Stay, please. Both of you." I pulled my hand back and forced a weak smile. "I have already upset Weston enough. Have fun and do not worry about me."

Before either of them could stop me, I turned on my heel and pushed through the heavy emergency exit.

The biting night air hit my skin. The heavy door slammed shut, cutting off the music and leaving me in the alleyway. A light mist fell from the dark sky, chilling my bare arms. I wrapped my coat tight around my chest to stop the tears. I felt small and useless, unable to celebrate my brother's happiness.

"I don't have all day."

I gasped, jumping back as I whirled around toward the sound.

Cassian leaned against the damp brick wall just a few paces away, watching me with cold blue eyes. One hand rested in his pocket, his dark jacket unbuttoned. The faint amber glow of a streetlamp caught his sharp jaw as he tracked my movements without blinking.

Panic ignited in my chest. He had slipped out into the alley behind me, fully intending to take me home just as he had promised Weston.

I backed toward the curb, shaking my head. "What are you doing out here? I will just hail a cab or stay at a friend's place."

Cassian glanced down at his watch before looking back up at me. "You plan on staying out here in the rain all night?"

"Of course not," I answered, trying my best to sound composed. "You said you don't have all day, so you can just leave."

He did not move an inch. He simply tilted his chin toward the black Mercedes idling against the curb, its headlights cutting two pale beams through the mist.

"Get in the car," he said.

The thought of being trapped inside a small space with him made my pulse race. "No. I am fine. I told you, I am going to see a friend."

"I thought you were sick," he said, raising a dark brow.

"I am. But I can look after myself."

Cassian pushed off the wall and stepped forward, his tall frame blocking the amber light. "Genevieve. The car. Now."

I hated taking orders from anyone, especially from him. Yet before my pride could rebel, my limbs moved on their own. I crossed the wet pavement to the Mercedes, opened the heavy passenger door, and dropped onto the leather seat.

The door shut with a heavy thud. The dark cabin was warm and saturated with his scent—cedarwood, rich leather, and crisp winter air. The fragrance dragged up memories I spent years trying to drown, pulling me straight back to the first night we were alone together, when his presence ruined my defenses.

Now, he was legally pledged to another woman.

The driver's door opened, and Cassian slid behind the wheel. His presence filled the cabin instantly, making the space feel cramped. Without offering a single glance or syllable, he pressed the ignition button. The engine came to life with a low, refined purr.

I pressed back against the headrest, digging my fingernails into my palms. "Would you prefer I sit in the back instead?"

Cassian gave no answer. A muscle jumped in his jaw as his long fingers gripped the steering wheel. He shifted into gear and pulled away from the curb, the wipers sweeping across the wet windshield.

The silence between us grew heavy. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the flex of his knuckles as he drove. Pain and jealousy chewed through my chest. He had moved on while I spent four years unable to let another man touch me. I had no right to feel bitter, but the ache remained.

The sudden vibration of his dashboard console shattered the quiet. A name flashed brightly across the center screen: Natalia.

My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her name glowing in bold white letters. It felt like a fresh cut across an old scar.

Cassian reached out and tapped the red icon, rejecting the incoming call without a second thought.

The dismissal offered no relief. Seeing her name was the final fracture in my composure, shattering what little strength I had left.

"Stop the car," I mumbled, turning my face toward the rain-streaked side window.

He kept driving as if he had heard nothing, his posture rigid and unmoved.

"Please stop the car," I repeated, my voice climbing higher as tears blurred the passing streetlights.

Silence answered me. The sedan glided forward, its tires hissing against the wet asphalt.

I turned toward him, my hands trembling against my knees. "Cassian, let me out."

"Don't," he snapped, his jaw tightening into iron as he stared ahead.

Humiliation and grief surged into my throat, destroying the last shred of my restraint.

"Cassian, stop the fucking car!" I screamed.

Cassian slammed his foot onto the brake pedal.

The Mercedes lurched to a halt, the tires screeching on the wet pavement before shuddering still. The seatbelt locked across my chest, holding me fast before releasing me against the backrest.

I drew in ragged breaths, my fingers shaking as I pressed the buckle release. I grabbed the door handle and yanked it, but the mechanism refused to give. The interior locks remained engaged.

I turned to glare at him, ready to unleash my anger, but his voice sliced through the dark cabin before I could speak.

"Don't ever think you can tell me what to do again."

His voice was low, smooth, and chillingly devoid of mercy. He did not shout, yet the sheer coldness in his tone froze the breath in my lungs.

"Never," he added.

He kept his eyes on the road ahead, refusing to look in my direction. His finger tapped the master switch on the armrest, and the central lock clicked open.

I shoved the door open and scrambled onto the pavement, nearly losing my footing on the slick curb. Before I could find my balance, the engine roared. The door swung shut under the momentum as the Mercedes accelerated into the distance, its taillights vanishing into the drizzle.

A sob broke from my chest. Tears spilled over my cheeks, stinging in the cold air. I stood on the sidewalk, pulling my coat around my shoulders, trying to draw oxygen into my lungs.

I turned around, intending to see which corner of the city he had dumped me on so I could hail a cab.

My breath hitched in my throat. The grief pooling in my chest instantly froze into an icy wave of bewilderment.

I was standing directly beneath the warm glass canopy of my apartment building. The stone planters, the chrome doors, and the familiar street number were unmistakable.

The damp wind whipped around me as I stared at the entrance in disbelief. In all four years of living here, I had never given Cassian Vane my address.