shadows of betrayal

Chapter nine

The city buzzed outside, neon lights flickering against the glass windows of Cassius's penthouse, but inside, the tension was razor-sharp. Leila stood near the fireplace, arms crossed, watching Cassius as he stared at the photograph.

Whoever had taken it wasn't just watching her—they were making a statement.

"We need to talk about this," she said, keeping her voice steady.

Cassius's grip on the photo tightened, his jaw clenching. "No. We need to find out who the hell thinks they can put their eyes on what's mine."

Leila stiffened at that word. Mine.

She hated how easily he threw it around, like she was something he could claim. But this wasn't the time to argue semantics.

She took a step closer. "If I'm a target, then maybe I should leave—"

Cassius's head snapped up, his dark gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine.

"No."

The word was final. Absolute.

Leila exhaled sharply. "This isn't your decision to make."

His expression didn't change, but something dark flashed in his eyes. "It became my decision the moment you signed that contract."

A slow burn of frustration crawled up her throat. "So, what now? You keep me locked up like a prisoner?"

Cassius let out a low, humorless chuckle, stepping toward her. The space between them shrank, heat crackling in the air.

"I don't cage people, Leila." His voice dropped, dangerously soft. "But I do make sure they know who's in control."

She refused to back down. "And what if I refuse?"

Cassius tilted his head slightly, studying her like a puzzle he was piecing together. Then, with a slow smirk, he leaned in just enough for her to catch the scent of whiskey and something darker.

"Then you'll learn."

The words sent a shiver down her spine—not from fear, but from something more dangerous. Something she wasn't ready to name.

Before she could respond, his phone vibrated on the table. He glanced at the screen, then back at her.

"Go change," he ordered.

Leila frowned. "What?"

Cassius grabbed his jacket. "We're going to find out exactly who's playing this game."

And just like that, the hunt began.

The car ride was silent, tension hanging thick in the air. Leila sat beside Cassius in the sleek black Maybach, her fingers curled tightly around the edge of her coat. The city blurred past in streaks of gold and silver, but she barely noticed.

Cassius had barely spoken since they left the penthouse. His focus was on the phone in his hand, his jaw tight, his fingers tapping against the screen in controlled impatience.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Where are we going?"

His gaze flickered to her. "To get answers."

That wasn't an answer at all, but Leila didn't press. Instead, she turned her attention to the tinted window, watching the streets grow darker as they left the well-lit parts of the city.

Minutes later, the car pulled into an underground garage, the air thick with oil and gasoline. A single figure stood waiting near the elevator—a man in his early fifties, his sharp suit doing nothing to soften the rough edges of his face.

Leila didn't recognize him, but Cassius did.

He stepped out first, adjusting his cuffs before approaching the man. Leila followed, her heels clicking against the concrete.

The man barely glanced at her before addressing Cassius. "It took some digging, but I found out where the surveillance came from."

Cassius didn't flinch. "Who?"

The man exhaled, then handed him a folder. "Not someone you'd expect."

Cassius flipped it open. His reaction was subtle—a twitch of his jaw, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

Then, without a word, he passed it to Leila.

She hesitated before looking down.

The moment her eyes landed on the name, her stomach dropped.

No.

No, this couldn't be right.

Her hands clenched around the folder as she looked up at Cassius, her breath shallow.

"Tell me this is a mistake."

But Cassius's silence said everything.

And just like that, the ground beneath her feet shifted.

The penthouse was silent, but the tension coiled in the air like a live wire, crackling beneath the surface. Leila stood near the marble kitchen island, arms crossed, her spine stiff as she watched Cassius pour himself a drink. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world.

She, on the other hand, was barely holding it together.

"Who else knew I'd be at that café?" she asked, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Cassius didn't answer right away. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the way the light caught it. Everything about him was controlled, unreadable—except for his eyes. Dark. Assessing. Calculating.

"You think someone set you up?" His voice was calm, almost too calm.

Leila clenched her fists at her sides. "I don't think. I know."

Cassius exhaled through his nose, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "And yet, you still met with Jaxon."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "I didn't have a choice."

He finally turned, his full attention on her now. The air between them shifted, charged with something electric. "There's always a choice, Leila."

She met his gaze head-on. "Then tell me, Cassius. If you were me, what would you have done?"

Something flickered across his expression, but it was gone before she could name it. Then, slowly, he smirked—but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I wouldn't have walked into a trap."

Her pulse pounded in her ears. "Then maybe you should've warned me."

Silence. Thick. Suffocating.

Cassius leaned against the counter, his stance deceptively relaxed. "If I wanted to control you, I wouldn't need warnings."

A shiver ran through her, not from fear, but from the sheer weight of his words. He said it with such certainty, such quiet dominance, as if control was something that came as naturally to him as breathing.

Leila inhaled sharply, forcing herself to stay focused. "Whoever's watching me… they're close. Too close. That surveillance photo wasn't just a message—it was a challenge."

Cassius studied her for a long moment, then pushed off the counter, closing the space between them in a few slow, measured steps.

"I'll handle it."

Her entire body went rigid. "That's not what I want."

His smirk deepened, but there was no humor in it. "You don't get to decide that."

She took a step back. "I don't belong to you, Cassius."

Something in his gaze darkened, sharpened. His voice was lower now, quieter—but it sent a shiver down her spine. "Don't you?"

Her breath caught. She wasn't sure if it was anger or something far more dangerous curling in her chest.

Before she could say another word, Cassius's phone vibrated against the counter. He didn't break eye contact as he reached for it, his expression unreadable.

A single message flashed across the screen.

We're watching. You're running out of time.

Cassius didn't react. But she saw it—the flicker of something lethal in his eyes.

The game had changed.

And this time, it wasn't just about power.

It was about survival.