The rain hit the glass walls of Cassian's penthouse like a warning drum. Inside, shadows from the fireplace danced across his bare shoulders as he sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed, jaw clenched. The silence between him and Riven wasn't peaceful. It was the quiet before a storm.
"I told you not to see him," Cassian murmured, voice low and sharp. "And yet... you went."
Riven stood at the foot of the bed, drenched from the storm, lips parted as if explanations still mattered. "I didn't have a choice. Valen isn't playing fair. He never did."
"That's what makes him dangerous. And that's what makes you reckless."
Cassian rose, slow and deliberate, until he stood chest to chest with him. The air between them was electric—hurt, fury, lust, and something darker twisting like a vice.
"Did he touch you?" Cassian asked, eyes scanning Riven's face like he was trying to find lies in his pores.
Riven didn't answer. And silence was an answer.
Cassian's hand came up—not to strike, but to tilt Riven's chin, forcing him to look up. "You let him play his game, and now we're in it too."
"He offered something," Riven admitted. "Something we might need."
Cassian laughed, bitter and low. "His price is always too high. And I'm not sharing you—especially not with him."
The tension broke in a kiss that wasn't gentle. It was rough, claiming, desperate. Cassian pushed him back against the glass wall, the cold shocking through Riven's damp clothes. Their hands explored familiar territory but with renewed urgency. Not just lust—punishment, apology, craving, need. The kind of kiss that scraped old wounds open just to feel something.
"I hate that I still want you this much," Cassian growled against his mouth. "Even when I don't trust you."
"Then don't trust me," Riven whispered. "But don't let me go."
They collapsed into the bed in a tangle of wet clothes and fevered skin. The fire cast their silhouettes against the wall—twisting, merging, burning. Every touch asked a question. Every kiss dared an answer.
Later, when silence came again, it wasn't peaceful. Riven lay against his chest, listening to the uneven rhythm of Cassian's heart.
"He said he knows about the heirloom," Riven whispered.
Cassian's breath caught.
"He said you stole something that was never yours."
Cassian's hand clenched in the sheets. "Then it's only a matter of time before he comes for it. And when he does, he won't come for just that."
Their fingers laced. A promise, or maybe a warning.
Outside, lightning carved a silver scar across the sky. And far away, in a different corner of the city, Valen smiled over a chessboard, knowing his next piece was ready to fall.