Not just Cassian, but the whole family we’ve been building. The normal life the boys finally have after years of hiding.
Footsteps outside. The lock turns again.
I force myself to sit up. Pain explodes through my ribs but I manage it. I won’t let them see me broken on the floor.
It’s two different men this time. One carries a metal chair. The other has rope. They haul me up and tie me to the new chair. My wrists are raw where the previous ropes cut into skin. The new bindings burn when they tighten them.
“Last chance,” one of them says. “Who killed Dmitri Petrov?”
“I don’t know.”
He backhands me. My head snaps to the side. More blood in my mouth.
“You know. You were there. You saw everything.”
“It was six years ago. I don’t remember.”
Another hit. This one splits my lip.
“We have all night. We have all week if we need it. You’ll tell us eventually.”
Maybe I will. Maybe there’s a breaking point I haven’t reached yet. Maybe pain will eventually override everything else and I’ll tell them just to make it stop.
But not yet.
Not while I can still see Finn’s face. Still hear Liam’s voice. Still remember Cassian saying “I love you” on the phone two nights ago like he knew he might not get another chance.
I love him too.
The realization hits clear despite the pain. Despite everything. I love him. I love the man who tried to kidnap our sons from school. I love the dangerous criminal who kills people without hesitation. I love the father who sits on the floor building robots with five-year-olds who ask endless questions.
I love him and I’m not letting the Petrovs take him from our family.
The torture continues.
They’re patient. They take their time, let pain build in layers. My body is failing. Can’t take much more. Every breath hurts. Every movement sends fresh agony through broken bones and torn muscle. But my mind stays clear.
Finn and Liam need their father.
That’s all that matters.
Viktor returns hours later. I’ve lost count of how many sessions have happened. How many times they’ve asked the question. How many times I’ve refused. He looks at me and I can see the frustration. His men have been torturing me for hours and I still haven’t broken.
“You’re stronger than I expected,” he says.
I don’t respond. Can barely focus on his face anymore.
“But everyone has a limit. We just haven’t found yours yet.” He crouches down so we’re eye level. “Tell me. Is Cassian Rourke worth dying for?”
Yes.
The answer is immediate and certain.
He’s worth dying for because our sons need him. Because the family we’re building needs both of us. Because I love him even though I’ve never said it out loud.
“I don’t know who killed Dmitri,” I say again, voice hoarse from screaming.
“Then you’ll die not knowing. Because we’re moving you soon. Taking you somewhere your family will never find you. And we’ll keep asking until you tell us or until your body gives out.”
