CHAPTER FIVE
LENA
Dinner felt like sitting inside a pressure cooker.
Holiday candles flickered. Soft instrumental Christmas music played in the background. My mother smiled too hard. Senator Ward asked polite questions. And Bryce... Bryce stared at me like he expected me to magically forget everything and fall back into his arms.
But the worst part wasn't the tension.
It wasn't Bryce's swollen ego.
It wasn't my mother's whispers of "just hear him out, sweetheart."
It was Cassian.
Sitting directly across from me.
Silent.
Sharp.
Watching everything.
He didn't speak muchmaybe five sentences total but every time Bryce's hand twitched toward me, Cassian's jaw tightened. Every time Bryce tried to slip a comment in my direction, Cassian's eyes darkened another shade. And when Bryce "accidentally" brushed my arm reaching for the butter?
Cassian didn't move. Didn't make a sound.
But his stare was lethal.
"Lena," Bryce said suddenly, leaning in with a smile that used to make my stomach flutter. Now it just made me want to vomit. "I saved you some of the sweet potato casserole you love it, remember?"
I forced a polite smile. "Thanks."
Mom practically swooned. "Look how thoughtful he is."
Cassian's fork paused against his plate.
"So thoughtful," he murmured.
Not sincere.
Not even close.
Bryce rolled his eyes. "Ignore him. Cass has always been annoyingly protective."
Cassian didn't look up. "Just with people who deserve it."
Silence.
Sharp and immediate.
Bryce's face tightened. "Meaning what?"
Cassian finally lifted his head, eyes landing on Bryce with a coldness that made my breath catch.
"You know exactly what I mean."
Bryce opened his mouth ready to start something but Senator Ward cleared his throat loudly. "Enough, both of you."
Cassian didn't take his eyes off Bryce until he looked away.
After dinner, my mother insisted everyone help clean up.
Bryce immediately tried to follow me into the kitchen, but Cassian intercepted him with a smooth, casual step, cutting him off.
"You clean the dining room," Cassian said.
Bryce bristled. "You don't get to boss me around"
Cassian raised a brow.
Bryce backed down.
I nearly laughed.
Inside the kitchen, I started loading dishes into the sink. My hands were still trembling, my chest tight from the tension. When I reached for a heavy pot, I almost dropped it.
A hand caught it before it slipped.
A large, warm hand.
My breath hitched as Cassian stepped close behind me close enough that I felt his presence before I felt his touch.
"You're shaking," he murmured.
"I'm fine," I whispered.
"No," he said. "You're not."
My throat tightened. "It's just... a lot."
He didn't argue. Didn't tell me to toughen up. Didn't say Bryce wasn't worth the pain.
He simply took the pot from me, set it in the sink, and moved the dish towel aside.
"Let me," he said quietly.
And something inside me cracked.
Not a painful crack.
A soft one.
A safe one.
I stepped aside, grateful and embarrassed all at once.
Cassian washed the dishes with calm, methodical movements. I stood beside him drying plates, our shoulders brushing occasionally tiny sparks every time.
Halfway through, he spoke without looking at me.
"You don't have to pretend around him."
I froze. "Pretend what?"
"That you're okay."
The words hit too deep.
My voice barely came out. "If I don't pretend... I'll fall apart."
He turned to me then fully.
His eyes were darker than before.
Softer too.
"Then fall apart," he said. "Just not with him."
My breath caught.
And that was the problem.
Part of me wanted to fall apart with Cassian.
"Why are you helping me?" I whispered.
He didn't answer right away.
Then he leaned in not touching me, but close enough that my pulse jumped.
"Because you don't deserve what he did to you," he said quietly. "And because watching him talk to you like nothing happened makes me want to break something."
My lips parted. "Cassian..."
He stepped back suddenly, as if realizing how close we'd gotten.
But the air didn't lighten. If anything, it grew warmer, thicker, alive with something neither of us dared name.
Cassian turned away, wiping his hands on a towel, jaw tight. "Let's finish this before your mother comes in and starts assigning more tasks."
I nodded, heart racing.
Later, when everything was cleaned and reset, I escaped upstairs before Bryce could catch me. I climbed the steps two at a time, desperate for my room. Desperate for quiet. Desperate to breathe.
But Cassian caught me first.
His hand wrapped gently around my wrist not tight, not forceful, but enough to stop me.
"Lena."
A whisper.
Sharp but careful.
I turned slowly.
Cassian stood there, his expression unreadable, his chest rising and falling like he was fighting whatever words were inside him.
He stepped closer. "Don't be alone with him tomorrow."
"I won't," I said softly.
He held my gaze. "I mean it."
His intensity made my breath tremble. "Cassian... I can handle Bryce."
"No," he said, voice low and certain. "You survived him. There's a difference."
I swallowed hard.
He let go of my wrist slowly, fingers trailing like he didn't want to break contact too quickly.
"Goodnight, Lena."
My heart fluttered.
"Goodnight, Cassian."
He turned to leave...
But paused.
Looked back at me.
Studied me with that quiet, dangerous patience.
Then he said, barely above a whisper:
"You shouldn't hide your hurt. I see it anyway."
And then he walked away, disappearing into his dim bedroom, leaving me standing on the staircase with my pulse pounding like a warning or a beginning.
Maybe both.
Because something was shifting.
Something dangerous.
Something magnetic.
Something that had nothing to do with Bryce...
And everything to do with Cassian Ward.
