“Cassandra.”
“What is this?” My voice comes out firm and steady, making myself proud.
“Insurance,” he says.
“This is torture.”
“This,” he retorts cooly, “is necessary.”
Without another word, he turns back around, confronting the man.
He doesn’t hit him. He’s not swinging chains or playing movie monster. He’s precise. He asks the same three questions in different orders. He pauses until fear does the talking. Several jugs of cold water sit in a rubber bin nearby. When the answers stall, he pours it slowly over the man’s head, letting the chill inspire. On the table sits a phone and an open map.
“Enough,” I say, stepping closer until I’m two paces from Damien and one from the man. I put my palm up like that would stop him.
Damien looks at my hand, then at me. “You don’t need to be down here,” he says calmly. “Go upstairs. I’ll be there soon.”
An ugly growl comes from the chair. The man’s eyes cut to me like knives. He spits. It lands on my shoe and slides like an insult. The chair lurches with intent.
Damien moves fast. He steps over and wraps his hand around the man’s throat—not crushing, just stilling. Orlov takes a step forward, but Damien halts him with a wave of his hand.
“I don’t want to watch this,” I say.
“You shouldn’t,” he says. “But you need to understand something. He knows our routes. He’s seen your face. If he leaves here breathing, someone buys what he says.”
“There are police,” I shoot back.
“Police can be bought.”
“Damien,” I try again. “Please don’t.”
He looks at me for a beat, then at the man, then at the floor. It could turn into mercy. It doesn’t.
He draws, aims, and fires one clean round into the man’s heart. His body jerks, then sags. The room gets smaller around us.
I flinch at the noise and then freeze. My hands instinctively go to my belly. My ears ring. Anger arrives heavy and hot.
Damien turns back to me. He does not apologize. He does not pretend it was something it wasn’t.
“I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe,” he says, his voice like steel. “To keep our family safe. To keep my empire alive.”
I take a step back. He reaches forward and my hand moves without thought. I slap him.
His head turns a degree with the impact. For a long second, we just breathe.
“I don’t ever want to see anything like this ever again,” I say, firm and clear. “Not here. Not with me in the room. Not if you want me to stay.”
He nods. There’s no argument. He takes off the gloves slowly and looks me in the eye.
“Understood,” he says. Then, quieter, “I will never cross that line with you again.”
He turns to Orlov. “You know what to do.”
Orlov nods. There are people working for Damien who have specific roles. I don’t want to meet the ones for this. I don’t have to. That’s one of the rules I just wrote.
“To bed,” he says to me. “I’ll walk you upstairs.”
We walk in silence. He keeps a respectful half pace.
