“I’m not proving anything. I’m just...” I trail off, not sure how to explain the hollow feeling that’s taken over my entire body.
“Wallowing,” Cassian supplies. “And doing a piss-poor job of it, I might add. Look, Lucien is a twisted bastard. Always has been. But you’re not exactly innocent here either, Carvelli.”
“Excuse me?” I snap, turning to face him fully. “How the fuck am I not innocent? I thought he was my brother!”
“And yet you still sucked his dick,” he says bluntly, his eyes boring into mine. “You knew it was wrong, and you did it anyway. So maybe spare me the victim routine.”
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out because he’s right. I knew who Lucien was supposed to be to me, and I still knelt before him. Still fucking liked it.
“You’re an asshole,” I finally manage, my voice shaking.
I flip him off, but he just smirks.
“I’m an honest asshole. Look, Carvelli,” he says, standing suddenly. “This little pity party you’re throwing yourself? It’spathetic. You got played. It happens when you’re entwined with Luci. Now pick your ass up and move on. Lucien is becoming even more unbearable than usual and I have to deal with it. So your problem is my damn problem.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl, but he’s already walking away.
He pauses at the end of my pew, turning back with that cold, calculating expression. “Don’t come here anymore.”
I blink at him, caught off guard by the abrupt command. “Excuse me?”
“This chapel. Don’t come back here.” His voice is flat, brooking no argument.
“It’s literally a church,” I protest, gesturing around us. “I have every right to be here.”
“Yeah, and there are six other places of worship on campus,” he counters, his jaw tightening. “Choose a different one if you really want to pray to a god who isn’t listening.”
I stand up, suddenly furious. “You don’t get to tell me where I can and can’t go.”
Cassian steps closer, and there’s something dangerous in his eyes now—something that reminds me why people whisper about the Crowe family in hushed, fearful tones.
“Don’t come to this one, Carvelli,” he says, voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “You won’t like what happens if I find out you’ve stepped foot in here again.”
Before I can respond, he turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing in the empty chapel. The heavy wooden door slams behind him with a finality that sends a chill down my spine.
“Okay, that’s fucking weird as hell,” I mutter to myself, staring at the door where he disappeared.
What the fuck was that about? Since when does Cassian Crowe care which chapel I brood in? I drop back onto the pew, wrapping my arms around myself as a silentfuck youforms in my head toward Mr. Grim Reaper.
I should leave. Whatever Cassian’s deal is, I probably don’t want to find out. But something about being told what to do makes my contrary nature flare up like a bonfire doused in gasoline.
I stay for another ten minutes just to be petty before finally gathering my things.
The walk back to my dorm feels longer than usual. Each step is an effort, like my body is fighting against the direction my feet are taking me. Cassian’s words echo in my head, cutting through the fog I’ve been living in.
The whole ‘I’m so traumatized I’ve forgotten basic hygiene’ look isn’t doing you any favors.
Fuck him. But also...he’s not wrong. I catch a whiff of myself and wince.
When I finally reach my building, I drag myself up the stairs, each step feeling like I’m climbing a mountain. My key fumbles in the lock before the door swings open, and as soon as I step inside, something feels...wrong.
The air in my room feels thick, heavy. Like oil sliding across my skin. My first thought is Lucien—he’s been here, waiting to ambush me with more mind games. But this feeling...it’s different. For everything Lucien has ever made me feel—rage, desire, self-loathing—it’s never been like this. This is something else entirely.
“Hello?” I call out, my voice sounding entirely too small in the empty room.
No answer. Just the sound of my own uneven breathing.
I glance around, scanning for anything out of place. My bed is still unmade, clothes still scattered across the floor where I’ve left them for days. Nothing seems disturbed, but I can’t shake this feeling of...violation. Like someone’s been here, touching my things, breathing my air.
