CHAPTER 42: TIME SLIPPED

Cassian stood in front of the mirror, fingers tugging absently at the collar of his red shirt. The fabric was soft, familiar the one Aiden had once said made his eyes look sparkling. He’d chosen it on purpose. Not for Lucian. Never for him. But for them. For the two people who’d held him together when the world tilted off its axis.

His hair refused to cooperate still damp from the shower, curling in chaotic waves around his forehead. He smoothed it back again, then stopped. What did it matter? No amount of neatness could hide the tremor in his hands or the hollow dread pooling in his stomach.

What did Lucian mean?

The question had gnawed at him all day. Not just the threats, not just the photos but that look in Lucian’s eyes last night. Something raw. Something broken. Like he wasn’t just playing a game. Like he was hurting. And that terrified Cassian more than rage ever could.

He exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping.

Just get through tonight. Stay close. Don’t go alone.

He turned from the mirror and opened the door

and froze.

Aiden stood right outside, one hand raised as if about to knock. He smiled when he saw Cassian, slow and warm, like sunlight breaking through clouds. "I was just about to knock at your door," he said, voice low and teasing.

Cassian’s breath caught.

Aiden looked effortlessly put together black pants that hugged his thighs just right, a crisp white shirt with the top button undone, revealing the sharp line of his collarbone. His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times, and there was a quiet confidence in his stance that made Cassian’s chest ache.

"You’re looking good," Cassian said, softer than he intended.

Aiden’s smile deepened. Then, without warning, he stepped closer and bent down slightly just enough to bring them eye level. His right hand rose, gentle, and brushed Cassian’s cheek with his knuckles, tracing the curve of his jaw like he was memorizing it.

"You yourself are looking beautiful," Aiden murmured.

Cassian’s pulse stuttered. There was no irony in Aiden’s voice, no playful edge just sincerity, thick and tender. It made him want to lean into that touch, to press his face into Aiden’s palm and forget, just for a moment, that seven o’clock was coming.

He swallowed. "Don’t say that. You’ll make me nervous."

"Good," Aiden said, thumb grazing Cassian’s bottom lip before pulling away. "Means you’ll stay close tonight."

Cassian almost laughed but it came out shaky. "I will."

Aiden studied him for a beat too long, his dark eyes searching. "You sure you’re okay? You’ve been... distant."

"I’m fine," Cassian lied, forcing a small smile. "Just tired."

Aiden didn’t look convinced, but he nodded anyway. "Well, Leonel’s downstairs complaining that we’re taking forever. Says if we don’t leave soon, he’s going solo and keeping all the free drinks."

That got a real laugh out of Cassian. "He wouldn’t."

"Oh, he would." Aiden grinned, then offered his arm with exaggerated flourish. "Shall we?"

Cassian hesitated then looped his arm through Aiden’s, letting the warmth of him anchor him to the present.

For now, this was enough.

The red shirt. The quiet hallway. Aiden’s hand brushing his as they walked.

He didn’t think about Room 73.

He didn’t think about Lucian’s whisper in the dark.

But as they reached the stairs, Cassian’s gaze drifted to the window at the end of the hall where the evening sky bled into violet and a single thought slipped through

What if the past doesn’t stay buried?

He held on Aiden’s arm tightly.

And stepped forward into the night.

They found Leonel in the living room, sprawled in the armchair with a book propped open on his lap. He’d clearly made an effort black pants that clung just right, a black shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing the sharp dip of his collarbones and the faint trail of hair leading beneath the fabric. The late afternoon light caught the gold in his eyes, and for a moment, Cassian forgot how to breathe.

He just... stared.

Leonel must’ve felt it. He looked up and froze. His gaze swept over Cassian: the red shirt, the tousled hair, the nervous flutter of his fingers against his own wrist. Something flickered in Leonel’s expression heat, surprise, possessiveness before he snapped the book shut and stood in one smooth motion.

"You’re looking too hot," he said, voice rougher than usual, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he stepped closer. "Don’t even go to the party. I don’t want a hundred people staring at you like you’re dessert."

Cassian giggled, cheeks warming, but didn’t look away. There was something different in Leonel’s eyes tonight less guarded, more open. Like he wasn’t even trying to hide how much he liked what he saw.

Aiden watched them, arms crossed, but his expression was soft, amused. He shook his head with a quiet laugh. "Okay, okay. Enough flirting. Let’s go before we’re late."

Leonel shot him a mock glare but didn’t deny it. Instead, he reached out and gently straightened Cassian’s collar, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of his neck just long enough to make Cassian shiver. "Ready?"

Cassian nodded. "Ready."

The three of them stepped out into the cooling evening, the city lights beginning to flicker on like distant stars. The party was at the Vespera Rooftop, one of the most exclusive venues in the district reserved for alphas, heirs, and those with enough influence to get past the velvet rope. Cassian clutched the embossed invitation in his pocket like a talisman, the paper crisp and heavy with promise... and danger.

At the entrance, a stern-looking attendant checked their names against a digital guest list. A flash of light scanned their IDs. Then silence. A beat too long. Cassian’s stomach dropped.

But then the man nodded. "Welcome. Elevator’s to your left. Top floor."

They stepped inside the sleek, mirrored elevator, the doors sliding shut with a whisper. For a moment, none of them spoke. The air hummed with tension and something else anticipation, protectiveness, fear.

Aiden leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, eyes on Cassian. Leonel stood close enough that their shoulders brushed. Cassian stared at their reflections in the glass three figures bound by something fragile and fierce.

The elevator chimed.

Doors opened.

Music, laughter, and golden light spilled out.

And somewhere in that glittering crowd, Lucian was waiting.

The Vespera Rooftop unfolded like a dream dipped in gold string lights shimmering above glass-paneled pergolas, the city skyline glittering beyond the railing, and a live quartet weaving elegant notes through the warm night air. Guests in tailored suits and flowing dresses mingled with champagne flutes, laughter ringing just a little too bright, smiles just a little too sharp. It was beautiful. It was suffocating.

Cassian stepped forward, shoulders tense beneath the soft red fabric of his shirt. He felt exposed like every eye in the room had already found him, marked him, judged him. He scanned the crowd instinctively, searching for him. Near the bar? No. By the dance floor? Not there either. But the absence was worse than seeing him. Lucian was here. He knew it.

Leonel stayed close on his left, a solid, grounding presence. Aiden matched his pace on the right, eyes already tracking exits, scanning faces with quiet vigilance. They didn’t speak, but their silence was its own kind of armor.

Aiden nudged him gently. "Thirsty?"

Cassian nodded, throat dry.

Without another word, Aiden slipped away toward the bar and returned moments later with a tall glass of sparkling water and lime. "No alcohol," he murmured, pressing it into Cassian’s hand. "You get jittery."

Cassian’s fingers curled around the cool glass. "You remember that?"

Aiden gave him a look of course I do and bumped his shoulder lightly. "Always."

Nearby, Leonel snorted at something a guest was saying something about "rich lineage" and "blood purity." He turned to Cassian, rolling his eyes. "That guy’s hat looks like a startled octopus."

Cassian laughed really laughed and for a heartbeat, the knot in his chest loosened. The music softened. The lights warmed. Leonel’s smirk, Aiden’s quiet watchfulness, the way they both angled their bodies to shield him from the crowd it felt like home.

This is what I’m risking, he thought, heart aching. This fragile, perfect thing.

Time slipped through Cassian’s fingers like silk.

One moment, it was barely eight Leonel was teasing him about his terrible taste in mocktails, Aiden was stealing fries off his plate with that lazy grin of his, and the three of them were tucked into a quiet corner of the rooftop, half-hidden by potted olive trees and string lights. Cassian had laughed until his ribs ached, leaning into Leonel’s shoulder without thinking, Aiden’s knee pressed warm against his under the table.

He didn’t notice the minutes bleed away.

It wasn’t until a sudden chill prickled the back of his neck a cold, unwavering stare that the illusion cracked.

Cassian stilled, laughter dying on his lips. He scanned the crowd, heart already speeding up. Past the glittering dresses, the clinking glasses, the easy chatter... and then he saw him.

Lucian.

Standing near the bar, glass in hand, dressed in a dark suit that looked too formal for the party. His expression wasn’t smug. Wasn’t playful. It was furious. His eyes sharp, icy locked onto Cassian with a look that screamed Why are you laughing with them? Why are you letting them touch you? You’re supposed to be mine.

Cassian’s breath caught. He glanced down at his wrist, fumbling with the watch he’d almost forgotten he was wearing.

8:45.

His stomach dropped.

No. It can’t be.

He blinked, checked again. The hands hadn’t moved. But then like a cruel punch he realized

it wasn’t 8:45.

It was 9:03.

Panic surged through him.

As if on cue, Lucian set his glass down on the bar with deliberate calm. Didn’t finish it. Didn’t look away from Cassian. Just turned and walked toward the service elevator the one that led straight to the private rooms below.

Cassian stood abruptly, chair scraping against the tile.

"Whoa -" Aiden reached for his arm. "You good?"

Cassian forced a smile, but it felt like glass about to shatter. "Yeah. Just... need five minutes to walk around. Clear my head."

Leonel’s eyes narrowed. "Now? Cass, it’s late. And you’ve been jumpy all night."

"I know," Cassian said quickly, voice low but urgent. "But I need this. Please. I’ll stay near the east wing right by the stairs.

Aiden exchanged a look with Leonel silent, tense.

"You’re not going alone," Leonel said flatly.

"I’m not asking to go far," Cassian insisted, meeting both their eyes. "Five minutes. I swear."

Leonel didn’t look happy, but after a long beat, he gave a stiff nod. "Fine. But stay where we can see you."

Cassian didn’t wait for more. He turned and walked fast, but not running toward the edge of the party, toward the dim hallway that led downstairs.

Behind him, the music swelled. Laughter rose.

And ahead?

Lucian was already gone.

But Room 73 was waiting.

And Cassian knew this time, there’d be no turning back.