The garage stayed dark except for the work light above Evie’s desk.

Rain tapped softly against the high windows while she sat on the floor beside the toolbox with both knees pulled up against her chest and her phone facedown beside her.

Three missed calls from Kane.

Two from Dominic.

None from Cassian.

Which honestly tracked.

Evie stared at the concrete floor.

Oil stains.

Loose screws.

One socket wrench near her boot.

The safehouse pipes hummed faintly overhead.

Nobody came downstairs.

Good.

She didn’t want witnesses for this particular emotional collapse.

Her phone buzzed again.

Unknown number.

Evie almost ignored it.

Then answered anyway.

“Hello.”

Static crackled briefly through the speaker.

Then a man laughed softly.

“You know,” Viktor said, “I expected him to shoot you by now.”

Evie closed her eyes once.

“Wow. You really commit to being the worst person alive professionally.”

“He asked if the stories were true.”

The words landed harder than she wanted them to.

Viktor heard the silence immediately.

“He always did prefer clean things.”

Evie stared at the rain-streaked garage windows.

“Cassian kills people for money.”

“Yes,” Viktor agreed calmly. “But he chose that.”

The garage suddenly felt smaller.

Colder too.

Viktor continued before she answered.

“You were survival before him.” A quiet pause followed. “Men like Cassian romanticize broken women until the damage starts looking familiar.”

Evie gripped the phone tighter.

“You don’t know him.”

“No,” Viktor said softly. “I know exactly what he becomes when attachment disappoints him.”

The line went dead.

Evie sat there awhile afterward staring at the dark screen in her hand.

Rainwater rolled slowly down the windows.

Upstairs, somebody crossed the hallway floorboards.

She stayed where she was.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t cry either.

Not yet.

The man’s name was Aaron Pike.

Mid-level broker.

Data runner.

Occasional information parasite.

Currently bleeding across a motel carpet two neighborhoods south of downtown.

Aaron tried crawling toward the bathroom.

Bad idea.

Cassian caught the back of his shirt and dragged him across the floor hard enough to knock over the bedside lamp.

The motel room flashed briefly between darkness and neon red from the broken sign outside the window.

Aaron coughed violently.

“I just reposted files—”

Cassian slammed him into the wall.

Picture frames rattled sideways.

“You sent them to Viktor.”

Aaron’s eyes darted wildly toward the pistol near the mattress.

Cassian noticed immediately.

The gun disappeared into his hand before Aaron even moved again.

Rain hammered the motel windows.

Aaron pressed himself harder against the wall.

“She had warrants—”

Cassian hit him once.

Not theatrical.

Short movement.

Direct.

Aaron folded sideways against the carpet coughing blood onto his own sleeve.

Cassian looked down at him with the same expression he used during stakeouts.

Still.

Focused.

Almost calm.

Which terrified people more than yelling ever could.

Aaron tried speaking again.

Wrong decision.

“You think she’s different from the rest of us?” Blood streaked from the corner of his mouth while he laughed weakly. “You think she doesn’t steal, lie, run—”

Cassian grabbed him by the throat.

Hard enough this time that Aaron’s head cracked against the wall behind him.

The motel room went quiet except for rain and Aaron choking for air beneath Cassian’s grip.

“You used her name,” Cassian said quietly.

Aaron clawed uselessly at his wrist.

Cassian leaned closer.

“And now Viktor thinks she matters more than she already did.”

Aaron’s eyes widened slightly after that.

Understanding.

Too late.

Cassian looked toward the rain-dark motel window briefly.

Then back at him.

“You should’ve picked a different target.”

Gunshot.

The sound vanished quickly beneath the storm outside.

Aaron slid sideways down the wall onto the carpet.

Silence settled through the room afterward.

Cassian stood there another second before lowering the pistol.

Blood speckled one sleeve of his jacket.

A red neon sign outside flickered unevenly through the rain across the motel walls.

His phone buzzed once in his pocket.

Kane.

Cassian answered without looking away from the body.

“Tell me you didn’t kill somebody,” Kane said immediately.

Cassian checked the magazine automatically.

“Bad timing.”

A long pause followed.

“…Oh my God.”

Cassian grabbed the motel towel from the sink and wiped blood from his hands once.

“She’s downstairs in the garage,” Kane continued more quietly. “Hasn’t come up in hours.”

Cassian looked toward the rain outside the window.

Then toward the blood spreading slowly beneath Aaron’s body.

“She thinks you’re rejecting her.”

Cassian said nothing.

Kane exhaled heavily through the phone.

“You really gotta stop communicating through psychological damage.”

The garage light still burned when Cassian returned.

Nearly 2 AM now.

Rainwater darkened the shoulders of his jacket while he crossed the concrete floor toward the office corner.

Evie sat exactly where he left her.

Back against the tool cabinet.

Arms folded loosely around her knees.

She looked up when the door opened.

Then immediately froze.

Blood.

Not much.

Still enough.

Cassian shut the garage door behind him quietly.

Evie stared at the stain near his sleeve.

“What happened.”

Cassian looked at her for a long second before answering.

“Aaron Pike leaked your records.”

Silence stretched carefully between them.

Rain tapped softly against the high windows overhead.

Evie’s eyes stayed fixed on the blood.

“You found him.”

“Yes.”

Her throat moved slightly when she swallowed.

“What did you do.”

Cassian crossed the garage slowly.

No rush.

No performance.

Just wet boots against concrete and rainwater trailing behind him.

Then:

“I made sure he doesn’t do it again.”

Evie looked at him quietly after that.

Really looked.

Blood on his sleeve.

Gun still holstered.

Rainwater sliding slowly from dark hair onto the collar of his jacket.

Terrifying sight honestly.

Not just violence.

Certainty.

Cassian stopped a few feet away from her beside the workbench.

“He said you’d disappoint me.”

Evie’s chest tightened painfully.

The garage stayed silent except for rain and the faint electric hum of the hanging light overhead.

Cassian looked down at her sitting against the cabinet floor.

Then quietly:

“He was wrong.”

Something in Evie’s expression cracked after that.

Not dramatic.

Small.

Enough.

She looked away quickly before he saw too much.

Too late probably.

Cassian crouched in front of her carefully.

Blood still marked the side of his hand near the knuckles.

“You asked if I was judging you.”

Evie rubbed one hand hard against her eyes.

“You literally interrogated me in a kitchen.”

“I asked if the reports were true.”

“That’s not better.”

“No,” Cassian agreed softly. “It isn’t.”

Rain rolled steadily against the garage roof.

Evie looked at him again slowly.

“You killed somebody over this.”

Cassian held her gaze.

“He used you to get to me.”

The answer came easily.

Too easily.

Evie stared at him another second.

Then laughed once under her breath in disbelief.

“You are genuinely insane.”

Cassian’s hand rested lightly against the concrete floor beside her knee.

“Yes.”

No defense.

No apology.

Just truth.

Evie looked down toward the blood on his sleeve again.

Then back toward him.

The loyalty in it scared her a little.

Not the killing.

The certainty.

Like once Cassian decided somebody belonged to him emotionally, the rest of the world became negotiable afterward.

Rainwater slid slowly down the garage windows behind him while the hanging work light hummed softly overhead.

Evie reached toward his jacket before she fully thought through the movement.

Her fingers brushed lightly against the bloodstain near his sleeve.

Cassian stayed completely still.

“You came here first,” she said quietly.

Cassian looked at her.

“Yeah.”

The silence afterward felt warmer than it should’ve.