She, on the other hand, felt empty.
Another burden.
Another thing she would pretend didn't break her heart wide open.
Another weight of grief as she lost photos and mementos of her parents and her childhood.
At least she’d brought her bunny with her when she packed that bag and left with Dragon.
“It’s not your fault, Cade,” she reminded him, injecting as much calm into her tone as she could manage. “I’ll be okay. It’s just stuff after all. What's that saying? No use crying about spilled milk. What's done is done. Hopefully, at least the cops can get something from it that will help Dragon and the guys link these people to the woman who came up to me and her boss.”
“It’s okay to be upset, Cass, it might be just stuff, but it’syourstuff.”
“I’ll be okay,” she repeated firmly, even though that was feeling less and less likely. Just as she started regaining her footing, feeling more like her old self, something else happened to knock her off again. “Call please if you find anything else.”
Before her brother could protest or offer more platitudes that weren't going to help, she hung up and set her phone back down. Dragon’s hands closed around her shoulders, and he turned her to face him.
“What happened?”
“My house burned down. Someone set it on fire.” Was it punishment for her sexual preferences? Because she liked roughsex and her mom had been raped? That was wrong, she knew it, maybe the universe knew it too.
“Little rabbit,” Dragon murmured, and his expression grew tender, but it was the opposite of what she needed right now.
All of this was her fault.
Her punishment.
She’d been judgmental with Dragon and his team about their plans, without knowing all the details—not that she would ever have approved of using Rose that way—but she’d been self-righteous when she was the biggest hypocrite of all.
“I’m sorry we dragged you into this, Cassandra. We’ll get them, I swear we will. And they will pay for everything they did to Rose, to us, to you.”
Breaking free from Dragon’s hold, she shook her head and started for the door. No platitudes, no reassurances, no pity.
She didn't deserve any of it.
Running out of the room, she headed straight for the front door, needing to be outside, alone. Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision, but she knew her way through the house, and once she burst out the door it didn't matter where she ran, all that mattered was that she needed to get away, needed to be alone.
She didn’t deserve comfort when she was such a sick and twisted young woman.
Chapter
Fifteen
January 8th
5:59 P.M.
That look was worse than the emptiness on Cassandra’s face when she agreed to come out here.
She’d looked guilty.
What in the hell would Cassandra have to be guilty about? She hadn't burned down her own house, she’d been states away here with him. She hadn't asked the people hunting him and his team to go to her and drag her into this. She didn't know who the partner of her assailant was or a way to contact him, and even if she did, why would she ask him to destroy pretty much everything she owned?
There was literally no reason for her to feel guilty, and yet Dragon would have sworn that was the predominant emotion he could see and scent on her before she’d gone running out of there like she was the one set on fire.
Of course, he’d followed after her, yelling at her to wait, to talk to him.
Not that she’d stopped. Hadn't even slowed down. Throwing open the front door and running out into the dark, snowy woods, without shoes on her feet, a coat, or anything else to protect her from the cold.
