Evelina’s POV
I stood frozen in the middle of the warehouse, Cassian’s words still ringing in my ears.
"Your father was in this room the night my family was destroyed."
It couldn’t be true.
It couldn’t.
I wanted to deny it, to push back, to tell him he was lying, but the look in his eyes—dark, unwavering, certain—made my breath catch.
“You’re wrong,” I whispered. “My father wouldn’t—he couldn’t—”
Cassian let out a low chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “You think I’m making this up, dolcezza?” He took a step closer, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You think I spent years digging through hell for revenge on the wrong man?”
My stomach twisted.
Because deep down, I knew.
Cassian Moretti wasn’t the kind of man who acted on baseless accusations. If he was saying this, he believed it with every piece of his soul.
My hands clenched into fists. “Even if he was here that night, that doesn’t mean he—”
“Doesn’t mean what?” Cassian cut in, his voice quiet but sharp. “That he was innocent? That he had nothing to do with it?” His jaw tightened. “Your father was the last person to see mine alive. He was in this room when the bullets started flying.”
I felt like the air had been sucked from my lungs.
I shook my head, struggling to find solid ground. “You don’t know what really happened.”
Cassian’s gaze darkened. “Don’t I?”
A tense silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.
I wanted to walk away. To escape the storm in his eyes, the weight of the past pressing down on me.
But I couldn’t.
Because no matter how much I wanted to believe my father was innocent…
A sliver of doubt had already taken root.
I inhaled shakily. “If you’re so sure, why haven’t you killed me yet?”
Cassian stilled.
For a moment, he didn’t speak.
Then, something flickered in his gaze—something dangerous, unreadable.
“I told you,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I don’t hurt what’s mine.”
My pulse pounded. “I’m not yours.”
His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Not yet.”
Heat curled in my stomach, sharp and unwanted.
I hated the way his presence unsettled me.
Hated the way my body reacted to him, even when my mind screamed at me to run.
I forced myself to breathe. “So what now?”
Cassian tilted his head. “That depends, dolcezza.”
“On what?”
He studied me, his gaze slow and deliberate. “On whether you’re ready to learn the truth.”
I swallowed.
I thought I was ready.
But looking at him now—seeing the weight of the past carved into his features—I wasn’t so sure anymore.
Still, I lifted my chin. “Tell me.”
Cassian’s smirk faded.
Then, in a voice low and unshakable, he said—
“I want you to help me bring your father down.”
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