“Cassia,” he says, and my name on his tongue feels like a leash. “You’re shaking. You’re crying. You’re terrified. And you’re still trying to protect whatever monster is chasing you by staying silent.”
My throat burns.
“It’s not that,” I whisper.
“It is,” he replies. “You’re hiding. I can feel it.”
I look away.
Because I know he can.
I’ve been hiding for so long it’s become muscle memory. Smile. Deflect. Keep moving. Don’t tell anyone anything that can be used against you.
But Orpheus isn’t just anyone.
That’s the problem.
I take a shaky breath. “He’s from my past.”
Orpheus’s eyes narrow. “A lover.”
The word is sharp.
I flinch. “Not like that. Not anymore. He wanted to be, but I didn’t.”
His hand tightens slightly on my shoulder. “What is he?”
I swallow. “Dangerous.”
Orpheus’s mouth curves, but there’s no humor in it. “So am I.”
I meet his gaze then, and something unsteady moves through me.
“You don’t understand,” I whisper. “You being involved makes it worse.”
Orpheus’s eyes darken. “Everything is far worse when you’re alone.”
My chest tightens.
I wipe at my face again, exhausted. “What do you want from me?”
His gaze drags over me, not lustful, not yet—just intent.
“I want you safe,” he says. “And I want to know who thinks they can walk into your home and leave a message as if they own you.”
My throat tightens. “He doesn’t own me.”
Orpheus leans closer. “Then why are you afraid?”
The question hits too close.
I don’t answer.
I can’t.
The truth is complicated and ugly and tangled up in things I’ve sworn never to speak aloud.
The truth is I know the gods, and the gods know me.
