Then I see it. A small, square piece of paper I must have missed before, tucked into the folder's flap. It’s a page torn from a pocket-sized notebook, the edges ragged. There are only two words scribbled on it in sharp, black ink.
Leo – Icarus.
Leo. A name. A person. Icarus. A car? A Helios Icarus? The image of twisted metal flashes in my mind, but I can’t recall the model. It doesn’t matter. This is it. This is more than a map. It’s a lead. A tangible piece of the truth I came here to find. I stare at the name, repeating it in my head.Leo. Leo. Leo.
Suddenly, a sound from the hall cuts through the silence.
It’s the sharp, metallic scrape of a key sliding into the heavy lock.
My blood turns to ice. He’s back. So soon. The folder is open on the floor. The note is in my hand. There’s no time. My head snaps up toward the door, my heart seizing in my chest as I hear the deadbolt begin to turn.
Twenty Three
Aria
Thescrapeofthekey in the lock is the sound of a guillotine dropping.
My blood turns to ice water. Every muscle in my body seizes.He’s back. So soon.The folder is open on the floor, its secrets exposed. The note with the name is a burning coal in my palm.
There’s no time to think. Only to react.
In a single, frantic movement, I shove the manila folder back into the locker. It goes in crooked, a mess of paper and metal,but it’s inside. As I slam the locker door shut, my fingers instinctively curl around the small, torn piece of paper in my hand. I can’t put it back. It’s mine now. I shove it deep into the pocket of my jeans just as the heavy loft door swings open.
I spin around, my heart trying to beat its way out of my throat.
Cassian fills the doorway. He takes one look at me, and I know. He knows. His eyes, sharp and predatory, miss nothing. They sweep over me, standing frozen in the middle of the room, my chest heaving, my guilt a visible aura around me.
He closes the door, and the slide of the deadbolt is the sound of a coffin being nailed shut. He doesn't speak. He just walks toward me, his steps unnervingly silent on the concrete floor. Each step is a lifetime. My mind is a blizzard of white noise, a thousand panicked thoughts with no substance.He knows. He knows. He knows.
I have to say something. Anything.
"What were you doing?" His voice is quiet, slicing through the static in my head. It’s the quiet of a predator before it strikes.
"Nothing." The word is a pathetic squeak. I clear my throat, my hands clammy. "I... I dropped a glass of water. I was just cleaning it up." The lie feels flimsy, like tissue paper trying to stop a bullet.
He stops directly in front of me, so close I’m suffocated by his presence. I can feel the heat coming off him, see the dangerous glint in his dark eyes. His gaze drops to the floor around my feet, then travels slowly, deliberately, back to my face.
"There's no water, Aria."
His hand moves faster than I can track, slamming flat against the wall just beside my head. The sound cracks through the loft like a gunshot. I flinch violently, a strangled gasp tearing from my throat.
"Don't. Lie. To me." The words are a low, guttural growl, vibrating through the wall and into my bones.
Before I can form a single thought, his mouth is on mine. It’s not a kiss. It’s an act of violence. It’s punishing and brutal, meant to break me, to steal the air from my lungs and the secrets from my mind. I am pinned between the unyielding wall and his unyielding body. My hands come up to push against his chest, but it’s like trying to move a mountain.
His hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my throat. His mouth leaves mine to trail a wet, biting path down my neck. I feel the sharp sting of his teeth on my skin, and a cry of pain and shock escapes me. Every instinct screams at me to fight, to claw, to run, but there is nowhere to go.
The note in my pocket feels like a shard of ice.Leo. Leo. Leo.The name becomes a silent mantra, an anchor in the storm of his assault. It’s the only thing that’s mine.
"Tell me," he breathes against my skin, his voice a rough demand. "Tell me what you were doing."
I shake my head, a sob catching in my throat. "Nothing. I swear."
The second lie tastes like blood in my mouth. His body goes rigid. I feel a shift in his anger, a new, terrifying edge. His hand moves from my hair, sliding down my front to the button of my jeans. My breath hitches. "Cassian, don't—"
The sound of the button popping, of the zipper being torn down, is the loudest thing I’ve ever heard. His cold fingers slip beneath the denim, and I gasp as he touches me. My body betrays me with a jolt of humiliated arousal. He feels it. I can feel the cruel satisfaction in the way he presses his thumb against me, a punishing circle that is all about power, not pleasure.
"Look at me," he commands.
