BLOOD IN SILK

Cassian Vale no longer spoke unless it was to give an order.

Not to Luca.

Not to his soldiers.

Not even to the mirror.

He had become efficient. Cold. Mechanical.

Emotions were a luxury for the weak — and he had bled the last of his weakness the night Alina walked out of that safehouse with his secrets in her hands and a lie in her kiss.

She didn't just leave.

She took pieces of him with her.

But that Cassian — the man who waited at doors, brought her coffee, whispered Little flame like it meant something — he was gone.

Now, only the wolf remained.

---

They said the Vale Syndicate had changed.

Where once there were quiet threats and precise hits, now there were full-out raids. Cassian stopped leaving warnings. No second chances. No clean deaths.

He hunted every name connected to Senator Darrow. Lobbyists. Couriers. Low-level rats.

Each one disappeared into silence.

And not once — not once — did he mention her name.

Not even in the privacy of night.

---

Tonight, the hunt moved to Paris.

Cassian walked through the rain in a black coat, no guards flanking him — he didn't need them anymore. People stepped aside when they saw his face.

He was shadow and steel.

His target was a broker — Elias Chen, one of the men who had funneled Darrow's money offshore.

Chen thought he was untouchable.

Until the elevator doors opened and Cassian stepped in.

No words. No preamble.

Just a silencer and one shot to the leg.

Chen screamed and collapsed.

Cassian crouched beside him, face calm.

"You moved the senator's money," he said softly. "Where did you send it?"

"I don't—I don't know who you are—"

Cassian shot him in the other leg.

Chen shrieked again.

Cassian's voice didn't rise. "Where?"

"Zurich. Vault A-17. I don't know anything else. I swear—"

Cassian stood, wiped his glove clean, and left him bleeding.

"I believe you."

The doors closed behind him.

And the scream was cut off.

---

Back in Sicily, Luca watched Cassian from the shadows of the courtyard.

It had been weeks since Cassian had even spoken his name.

He didn't eat with them anymore. Didn't sleep. Just worked. Plotted. Moved.

Luca approached carefully.

"She was spotted," he said.

Cassian didn't look up.

"She's in London. Under her mother's maiden name."

Still nothing.

Luca shifted. "Do you want us to bring her to you?"

Cassian's gaze finally lifted. Icy. Hollow.

"There is no 'her,'" he said.

Luca swallowed. "Boss—"

"Burn the name," Cassian said flatly. "Erase it from the files. From the network. From me."

Luca hesitated. "She betrayed you, yes. But—"

Cassian cut him off with one glance. "She was never mine."

His tone left no room for doubt.

The man who once kissed her like she was air after drowning?

Gone.

This one would burn the world to forget.

---

London — Two Days Later

Alina moved like a ghost through Mayfair. Blonde now. Softer. Polished.

But she didn't sleep well.

Not since she gave her father what he wanted and saw the flicker of approval in his cold eyes.

Not since she lied and told herself Cassian wouldn't care.

But every quiet moment stabbed her with memory.

The way his voice dropped when he said her name.

The way he looked at her, even when he didn't trust her.

She told herself she did what she had to — that she survived.

But the truth?

She missed the way he had seen her.

And now, even from across an ocean, she could feel it:

He was coming.

Not to save her.

To end what she started.

---

Zurich — Vault A-17

Cassian stood in front of a steel door. Two dead guards lay behind him.

The lock blinked red, then green.

Inside was a suitcase.

Documents.

Photos.

A single flash drive with initials engraved on the side:

A.D.

Alina Darrow.

Cassian stared at it.

Not a flinch. Not a twitch.

He picked it up and walked out into the snow.

Burned it at the steps.

No hesitation.

---

Later that night, back in his private estate, Luca entered his office one last time, holding a black envelope.

"We tracked her."

Cassian poured whiskey, unmoved.

"She's staying under an alias. Using a fake medical license."

Luca placed the file on the desk. "She's alone. No guards. No father. Just her."

Cassian didn't look down.

Just drank slowly.

Then said:

"I want her forgotten."

Luca blinked. "Forgotten?"

"She doesn't exist."

"You're not going after her?"

Cassian's voice was barely human now.

"I already buried her."

---

In London, Alina jolted awake in her hotel room, gasping.

She thought she heard his voice in a dream.

Felt his hands. The cold in his eyes.

But when she turned to the empty bed beside her…

She realized what true loss felt like.

Not distance.

Not silence.

But knowing someone once burned for you —

and now couldn't even say your name.