Cassian POV
I felt him long before I saw him.
Hybrid energy had a distinct signature, raw heat threaded with cold shadows, like a storm arguing with itself. It never blended, never quieted, never slept. And Alistair Draven carried it like a second heartbeat.
He stood at the far end of the street outside Sarafina's apartment, half in shadow, half in the streetlight's glow, hands in his pockets like he had all the time in the world. People walked past him without looking, the way humans instinctively avoid predators.
I exhaled slowly and stepped toward him.
He didn't turn. Didn't acknowledge me. Didn't flinch.
Of course he didn't.
"Following her again?" I asked casually, stopping a few paces away.
His reply was a calm, measured breath. "Keeping an eye on her."
I smiled, but there was nothing warm about it. "That's not your job."
Finally….finally, he shifted his attention to me. Silver eyes gleamed faintly beneath the streetlights. Not glowing, but close enough to a warning.
"And it's yours?" he asked.
"I've known her longer."
"Not long enough," he murmured.
There it was, the arrogance. The confidence. The certainty that he belonged near her.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only he could hear. "Stay away from her."
At that, he smiled. Barely. The kind of smile that meant you amuse me, little witch.
Except I wasn't just a witch. He knew that. Even if he didn't know the full extent.
"You really think," Alistair said softly, "that you can keep me away from her?"
"I don't think," I said. "I promise."
His expression didn't change, but the air shifted. Heavy. Electric. A cold ripple slid through the space between us, the kind that came right before violence.
"She trusts me," I added. "And she's already confused, afraid, and on edge. The last thing she needs is you hovering like some…."
"Like some what?"
His voice didn't raise, but it dropped—deeper, darker.
"Like someone waiting for her to break," I said. "Or someone planning to be the reason she does."
A low growl hummed beneath his breath. And it wasn't human.
I didn't back down.
"You don't know what's happening to her," I continued. "You don't know what she is. You don't know what you're touching."
"And you do?" he asked.
My jaw tightened. Because yes—I did. More than he realized.
Alistair stepped closer, shadows bending with him, like they liked being near him. "I'm not your enemy."
"No," I said quietly. "You're worse. You're reckless."
"And you're lying to her," he replied without hesitation. "About a lot of things."
My heart lurched—but my face didn't move. "That's none of your business."
His eyes sharpened. "Everything about her is my business."
"And why is that?" I asked, a bitter edge to my voice.
He didn't answer immediately. His gaze slipped toward her window—toward the faint glow of light under the curtains where she probably sat unaware of the storm forming around her.
Then he looked back at me.
"Because something is coming," he said. "For her. For all of us. And she…"
A beat passed.
"…isn't ready."
"She will be," I snapped.
"If you stop suffocating her."
"And if you stop stalking her."
We stared each other down, the space between us practically vibrating with tension.
Finally, I moved closer—close enough that a human would have felt intimidated.
But Alistair wasn't human.
He straightened, meeting my gaze head-on.
"If you get close to her again," I said softly, "I end you."
Silence.
Then—
"You think you can," he answered.
No heat. No bravado. Just quiet certainty.
I hated him for it.
Not because he was wrong.
But because a part of me feared he wasn't.
A passing bus rattled by, headlights sweeping across us. When it passed, he was already stepping back into the shadows.
"Tell her the truth one day," Alistair said. "Before she learns it from someone who won't be kind."
Before I could respond, he vanished into the alley—silent, fast, gone.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space he left behind, fists clenched.
The worst part wasn't that he threatened me.
The worst part was the single, cold truth tightening in my chest:
Sarafina wasn't safe.
And Alistair Draven wasn't going away.