The first thing Evie noticed was the blood.

The second was the silence.

Not normal silence.

Not NOCTURNE silence.

Usually their entrances came with arguing. Kane complaining. Dominic threatening somebody over coffee. Boots stomping through the garage like emotionally damaged SWAT raccoons.

Tonight?

Nothing.

The garage door rolled open just after midnight.

Rain hammered the street outside while the matte-black SUV rolled in too fast on a blown tire.

One headlight was gone.

Bullet holes tore across the driver-side doors.

Evie straightened from her workbench immediately.

“…Oh, that’s super not ideal.”

Nobody answered.

Kane climbed out first.

Usually loud.

Usually halfway through a nervous breakdown and a joke at the same time.

Tonight he looked tired enough to dissolve.

Evie’s stomach tightened slightly.

“Where is he?”

Kane glanced toward the rear passenger door.

“He’s fine.”

The tone said:

absolutely not.

The rear door opened.

Cassian stepped out slowly.

Rain soaked through black tactical fabric. Blood covered one sleeve from shoulder to wrist. His gloves were gone.

That caught her attention immediately.

One bare hand stayed clenched at his side hard enough for the knuckles to pale beneath smeared blood.

Evie moved before thinking.

“Jesus Christ.”

Cassian kept walking.

Not limping.

Not staggering.

Still controlled.

But too controlled.

Like every muscle in his body was locked down manually.

Kane spoke carefully behind him.

“Bullet went through clean.”

Cassian headed for the stairs.

“He needs stitches.”

Still walking.

Evie stared at Kane.

“Why does he walk like he’s trying not to kill furniture?”

“You get used to it.”

“I really don’t think I should.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

Cassian reached the staircase railing.

Then stopped.

Abruptly.

One hand closed around the metal hard enough to make it groan softly.

Rainwater dripped from his sleeves onto concrete.

Evie frowned.

“Hey.”

No response.

“You’re pale.”

Nothing.

“Which is impressive,” she added, “because you already look like a haunted Victorian man with military training.”

Kane made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a stress-induced heart attack.

Cassian turned slightly toward them.

“Leave.”

Low voice.

Flat.

Kane didn’t argue.

That bothered Evie more than the blood.

The rest of the team disappeared upstairs fast. Boots thudded overhead. A door slammed somewhere deeper in the building.

Then it was quiet again.

Rain outside.

Music humming softly from old garage speakers.

Blood dripping steadily onto concrete.

Evie crossed her arms.

“You gonna sit down willingly, or do I need to hit you with my car first?”

Cassian looked at her for a long second.

Then slowly sat.

Not dramatic.

More like his body finally ran out of patience.

Evie grabbed the first-aid kit from the cabinet and rolled over a stool.

Up close, the wound looked ugly.

Entry wound high in the shoulder.

Burned fabric around torn skin.

Too much blood.

“Okay,” she muttered. “That’s upsetting.”

Cassian stared straight ahead.

Evie snapped gloves onto her hands.

“Important disclaimer before we continue: I am not a doctor.”

Silence.

“I stitched up a guy after a street race once.”

Nothing.

“He later got arrested for arson.”

Cassian’s jaw shifted slightly.

“That feels unrelated.”

Evie pointed at him immediately.

“See? That’s the most conversation you’ve voluntarily contributed all month.”

No response.

She grabbed scissors and leaned closer.

The second her fingers touched the torn fabric near his shoulder—

Cassian moved.

Fast.

The stool crashed backward.

One second she was reaching for the wound.

The next his hand slammed around her wrist hard enough to stop her breath.

Everything froze.

Evie stared at him.

Cassian stared back harder.

Grey eyes locked onto hers instantly.

Not angry.

Worse.

Reflex.

Pure reflex.

The kind built deep enough to bypass thought entirely.

For one ugly second, Evie’s brain went completely blank.

Rain hammered the garage roof.

Neither of them moved.

Then she saw it.

Recognition.

Cassian looked down at his own hand around her wrist like it belonged to somebody else.

His grip loosened immediately.

But he still didn’t let go.

Like his body stalled halfway between protect and attack.

His breathing sounded wrong now.

Too even.

Too controlled.

Evie swallowed carefully.

“…Okay.”

Nothing.

“That definitely felt trauma-related.”

His jaw tightened once.

Still holding her wrist.

Not hard anymore.

Just there.

Like he forgot what normal people did next.

Evie’s pulse thudded painfully in her throat.

Then, because her survival instincts had clearly been assembled by drunk engineers—

“If I wanted to kill you,” she said carefully, “I’d poison your coffee like a normal person.”

Silence.

One second.

Two.

Then Cassian let go.

Immediately.

Evie stood up too fast and grabbed the fallen stool before her knees embarrassed her publicly.

“Awesome,” she announced shakily. “Love whatever that was.”

Cassian looked away first.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Evie picked the stool up and sat again.

Slower this time.

“No touching without warning,” she said lightly.

Cassian stayed still for a second.

Then:

“Understood.”

Two syllables.

Low voice.

But the apology inside them landed harder than she expected.

Evie cleared her throat quickly and reached for disinfectant.

“All right. New rule.”

Cassian didn’t move.

“You bleed somewhere else, I charge extra.”

A beat passed.

Then:

“…Noted.”

Evie blinked once.

Oh no.

That might’ve actually been funny.

Which felt dangerous.

Because nothing about this man should ever start becoming charming.

She cleaned the wound carefully after that.

Talking the whole time.

About traffic.

About terrible customers.

About Kane stealing cinnamon creamer like a criminal.

Cassian barely answered.

But he let her touch him.

Even when his shoulders locked tight.

Even when his breathing changed.

Even when every instinct in his body clearly screamed at him to move.

Evie noticed all of it.

Pretended not to.

Eventually she tied off the last stitch and leaned back slightly.

“Done.”

Cassian looked down at the clean bandage.

Then at her.

Quiet again.

Rain hit the garage roof in steady waves.

He stood carefully and reached for the gloves sitting on the workbench nearby.

His hand stopped halfway.

Then he looked back at her.

“…Thank you.”

Evie stared at him.

Because somehow those two words sounded stranger coming from him than violence ever had.