Night draped Cassian's mansion in quiet.
Cold lantern light spilled across the marble floors, illuminating the pristine discipline of the War General's domain. Guards stood at their posts like statues, speaking in low tones, aware—too aware—of the tension that had settled since the engagement banquet.
Cassian had retreated to his private study, still in uniform, jacket unbuttoned at the collar as though he'd tugged at it one too many times.
He had barely tasted the wine they'd served him that night. He had barely spoken. He had barely breathed.
He sat at his desk, elbows on the polished wood, hands pressed to his forehead.
He was alone. And he wanted it that way.
But the world didn't care what Cassian Vale wanted.
Because the front door slammed open so violently the walls shook.
The guard captain shouted, "SIR—! He forced his—"
But the intruder had already stormed past them.
Lysander Arden.
Cassian's breath stilled.
The moment the study doors flew open, he knew. He knew by the sound of furious footsteps. He knew by the sound of ragged breathing. He knew by the sound of a man who had run out of mercy.
Lysander appeared in the doorway, wild-eyed, chest heaving, fists clenched so tight his knuckles split.
"Vale."
Cassian stood slowly. He did not brace himself. He did not bark orders. He simply looked up—face blank, eyes tired.
"Lysander."
The brother didn't speak. He launched forward. Cassian didn't move.
The first punch smashed into his jaw with a sickening crack. His head snapped to the side. The guards surged forward—
"STAND DOWN!" Cassian barked, voice sharp despite the blood forming at his lip.
They froze.
Lysander grabbed Cassian by the collar and slammed him against the wall. "You fucking son of a bitch!"
Cassian didn't fight back. Blood ran down his chin. Lysander punched him again.
Then again. And again.
Cassian's lip split. His cheekbone darkened with bruising. His breath came slower, heavier. He took every blow. Silently.
Like penance.
When Lysander finally stepped back, panting, shaking with rage, he roared, "YOU BROKE HER!"
Cassian exhaled—slow, shaky.
Lysander didn't stop. "Do you hear me? You broke my sister! My sweet, gentle Seraphine who never hurt a soul— YOU BROKE HER!" His voice cracked into something raw and devastated. "You let her fall in love with you. You let her give you everything she had inside her, and you didn't even catch her when she fell."
Cassian didn't defend himself. He didn't blink.
Lysander's chest heaved. "You played with her," he growled. "You touched her heart, her life, her future and you didn't even give her promises to hold on to. You left her with nothing."
Cassian finally spoke—his voice low. "I didn't lie to her."
Lysander surged forward and struck him again. Cassian's head whipped to the side. Blood dripped onto the floor.
"You fool," Lysander snarled. "You think that makes it better? You think she needed honesty? She needed YOU. And you—" His voice trembled violently. "You turned her into this."
Cassian's jaw clenched. "If I could have refused the marriage," he murmured, "I would have."
"THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU?!" Lysander roared, grabbing him by the collar again. "Why didn't you fight for her? Why didn't you try? Why didn't you bleed for her if she meant even HALF of what she thought she was to you?"
Cassian looked him dead in the eyes.
And for the first time, something broke through the ice—something dark, quiet, and wounded.
"I thought keeping my distance would shield her," he said.
Lysander stared.
Cassian's voice thinned. "I thought leaving her out of court politics would keep her safe. I didn't want her tangled in this. I didn't want her involved in wars she could not see."
Lysander's breathing slowed. Cassian looked away.
"I thought," he said quietly, "that if I did not give her promises, she could choose a kinder man. A gentler life."
A long, painful silence stretched between them.
Lysander's voice dropped to a cold whisper. "And instead… you fed her hope."
Cassian closed his eyes.
Lysander's jaw clenched with violent grief. "She screamed until her throat bled tonight." His voice cracked. "She destroyed her room. She shattered everything she touched. She looks like a madwoman because of YOU."
Cassian's entire body went still.
Lysander's voice lowered to something dangerous. "She screamed that she'd kill Marienne… And she meant it."
Cassian's hand tightened at his side, veins straining.
Lysander stepped closer, his breath a low snarl. "My sister, Seraphine, the girl who once cried when she stepped on a beetle, now wants to slit a noblewoman's throat because she thinks you were stolen from her."
Cassian's fingers curled into fists—hard enough that blood began to drip from his knuckles.
"That," Lysander said, "is what you did."
Cassian swallowed hard.
Lysander's final punch wasn't to his face. It was to his ribs—right where his heart would be. Cassian staggered but didn't make a sound.
Lysander whispered sharply, voice shaking. "You deserved that."
Cassian steadied himself. Then—slowly, painfully—he nodded.
"I know."
Two words. Two words of surrender. Two words of guilt. Two words that broke something deeper than bone.
Lysander stepped back, trembling from anger, grief, exhaustion. Cassian wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
And for the first time in years.... he looked small. Human. Fallible.
Lysander pointed at him, voice low and shaking. "If she loses herself," he whispered, "if she destroys her life… it will be on your hands."
Cassian didn't flinch. "I know," he said again.
The silence that followed was thick with something unspoken, heavy, suffocating.
Lysander turned away. He paused at the doorway. "Pray," he said without looking back, "that you never see what I saw tonight."
Cassian didn't answer. Couldn't answer.
Lysander left. The door shut with a quiet thud.
And Cassian Vale— War General, terror of the empire, ruthless and unbroken— slowly sank into his chair and pressed a shaking hand over the ache in his ribs.
The ache where Lysander had punched him. The ache where Seraphine had once rested her head. The ache he had been ignoring for years.
He stared at the door for a long time. And the room stayed quiet. Dark. Bleeding.
Just like him.