Cass’s POV

The assassin lunges again, his movements calculated and cold. I realize with a jolt that I am the primary target. I dodge his strike, deflecting the blade with my forearm, and deliver a sharp punch to his ribs. He grunts, but he’s disciplined—he recovers instantly. As he moves to grapple me, I shoulder-check him into a heavy vase, sending shards of ceramic skittering across the floor. He stumbles, and I seize the opening, driving my knee straight into his face. He drops like a stone.

I scan the room, chest heaving. Colt is safe. Father is safe. The three remaining assassins are pinned down by Victor and Serge.

"Are you okay?" Colt’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp with desperation. He’s standing across the table, his eyes devouring me, searching for blood. He realizes how vulnerable he sounds and clears his throat, regaining his composure. "Are you unharmed, Princess?"

I offer him a steadying nod. "I'm fine."

Warrick stands over the bodies, his expression dark. "Infiltrated us so easily," he murmurs, his tone lethal. "Oliver, my apologies. It seems Ezra is getting bolder."

"Bold, indeed," Oliver replies, brushing off his jacket with unsettling calm.

In the war room, the mood is suffocating. As the generals debate strategy, my gaze keeps drifting to Colt. Every time our eyes meet, the air between us feels electric, suffocating.

Warrick, reading the room, abruptly stands. "Alpha Oliver, a word. In private."

He casts a warning look at me—

don't sell me out

. I glare back, silently daring him to try.

When the room clears, I finally manage to slide over to Colt. "This is torture," I whisper, my fingers twitching to reach for him.

"I hate it," Colt growls, his jaw tight. "I hate how he looks at you. I hate that I have to stand here and watch him try to charm you."

"But I want

you

," I insist, my voice trembling with the effort of staying away. "You and no one else."

"Are you hurt?" he asks, his voice softening, his eyes searching mine.

"I’m okay," I promise.

The door opens, and Warrick returns with Oliver. The meeting is adjourned. As everyone files out, Warrick catches my arm. "Cass, stay."

When the heavy doors click shut, he turns to me. "I’ve made an agreement with Oliver. You are to escort him, keep him interested, but make no promises. He sees you as a potential Luna, but you are not meant to be a subordinate, Cassiopeia. You are meant to be a ruler. Keep him hooked, but don't commit."

I weigh his words. It’s a cynical play, but he’s right. For all his ruthlessness, he views me as an equal—an Alpha. "Okay," I agree. "But keep Colt away from me?"

"That's the price of the alliance," he says, staring out the window. "Your mother once said you were born to be great. You're finally proving her right."

Colt’s POV

My knuckles are white, my nails digging so deep into my palms that skin threatens to break. Watching her from the war room window as she walks the grounds with Oliver is pure, unadulterated torture. She’s an untamable goddess, and I’m forced to watch as that man lingers his hand on the small of her back.

"You're about to pop a vein, man," Dash says, leaning against the wall behind me.

"That's

my

woman," I snarl, my claws leaving deep gouges in the mahogany windowsill.

"Trust her," Dash says quietly. "She’s the one who chose you."

I force myself to back away from the window. Dash drags me toward the bar room, hoping to drown the frustration. The silence there is a relief, until Skye walks in. She’s wearing simple work clothes, looking nothing like the pampered woman I once knew.

She waits for Dash to leave, then looks at me. "I don't expect forgiveness. I know I was selfish, driven by fear and a hunger for power. I’m paying for it now. I just… I wanted you to know that I’m sorry for the pain I caused."

I don't offer forgiveness. I can't. But seeing her stripped of her status, I realize karma has already exacted its toll.

After she leaves, I wander the halls, only to run into Julia. She’s a mess—red-eyed and unkempt. "Colt," she sobs, throwing her arms around my neck. "I can't do it. I only want you."

I pull her off, my resolve hardening. "Julia, I am in love with Cass. I never gave you reason to think otherwise. You need to move on."

"There is no one else!" she screams, latching back onto me.

Her desperation feels... unnatural. It’s not just love; it’s a delusion. I realize then that she isn't just sad—she’s unstable. I’ll have to speak to her father, but I have a sinking feeling that this won't be resolved with a simple conversation. Something about her obsession feels dangerous, and I need to keep Cass safe.