Episode 14: THE FIRST CRACK IN THE GLASS

Evelina’s POV--

The car ride was silent.

Cassian sat beside me, his presence of heavy force in the confined space. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his thigh, his gaze fixed out the window, but I knew he wasn’t really looking at anything.

He was waiting.

For what, I didn’t know.

Matteo drove with practiced ease, the city blurring past. The farther we went, the more unfamiliar the streets became. I’d grown up in this city, but these streets weren’t mine.

They were his.

I clenched my hands in my lap, trying to quiet the storm in my head.

"What if your father already betrayed you?"

Cassian’s words wouldn’t leave me alone. They clawed at my mind, twisting around memories I had never second-guessed before.

I had always known my father wasn’t a perfect man. He was powerful, respected, and feared in equal measure. But he was my father.

He loved me.

Didn’t he?

The car slowed, and I looked up just as we turned onto a quiet street. Unlike the neon-lit chaos of downtown, this area was abandoned. The kind of place people didn’t walk alone at night.

My stomach twisted.

Matteo parked outside a run-down building with boarded-up windows and graffiti-stained walls.

Cassian finally moved, pushing the door open and stepping out. He didn’t say a word, just waited.

I swallowed and followed.

The air was thick with the scent of rain and asphalt. A streetlamp flickered above, barely casting enough light to see by.

Cassian gestured toward the building. “After you.”

I hesitated. “Where are we?”

He didn’t answer.

Of course, he didn’t.

I exhaled sharply and stepped forward. The door creaked as I pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit interior. The scent of old wood and dust filled my nose.

Footsteps followed behind me as Cassian and Matteo entered.

A single lightbulb buzzed from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows across the room. There wasn’t much—just a few broken chairs, a metal table, and—

I froze.

A man sat in the corner, his hands tied behind his back. His face was bruised, blood staining the collar of his shirt.

I took a sharp step back. “Cassian, what the hell is this?”

Cassian stepped beside me, his voice calm. “This is proof.”

My stomach turned. “You kidnapped someone?”

Cassian’s expression didn’t change. “He works for your father.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse thudding against my skin. “That doesn’t mean anything—”

“Oh, it does.” Cassian’s voice was quiet, lethal. He walked forward, crouching in front of the man. “You want to tell her, or should I?”

The man—who looked to be in his late forties—glared at Cassian, then at me.

I felt sick.

Cassian sighed, like he was bored. Then, without warning, he grabbed the man by the hair, forcing his head up.

I flinched.

“Tell her,” Cassian said, his voice dangerously low. “Tell her what you told me.”

The man spat blood onto the floor. “Go to hell, Moretti.”

Cassian chuckled. “Already there.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife.

Panic surged through me. “Cassian—”

But he didn’t move.

He simply ran the blade along the man’s cheek—not cutting, just enough to remind him it was there.

“Talk,” Cassian said. “Or I’ll make you talk.”

Silence.

Then—

“He knew,” the man rasped.

My breath caught.

Cassian tilted his head. “Knew what?”

The man’s jaw tightened.

Cassian pressed the blade just a little harder. “Knew what?”

A beat passed. Then—

“Her father,” the man gasped. “He knew your family was going to be hit that night.”

The room spun.

I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself.

No.

No, that wasn’t possible.

Cassian sat back, his expression unreadable. “Go on.”

The man exhaled shakily. “He didn’t give the order, but he knew it was coming. He was warned. Told to get out before things got messy.” His gaze flickered to me. “And he did.”

I shook my head. “You’re lying.”

The man’s lips curled into something bitter. “I wish I was, girl.”

I looked at Cassian, searching for some kind of confirmation. Some proof that this was just another manipulation.

But I didn’t find it.

Because Cassian wasn’t smirking anymore.

He was watching me, quiet, waiting.

I stumbled back. “This doesn’t mean anything. He could be saying whatever you want to hear—”

Cassian stood, slipping the knife back into his pocket. “You wanted proof, dolcezza.” His voice was soft, but it burned like fire. “There it is.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

The walls around me felt too close. The air too thick.

I needed to get out.

I turned and walked toward the door, my heart slamming against my ribs.