Darrien's Perspective

When Darrien woke up in the hospital, the first thing he saw was Cass's worried eyes.

"Sir… how are you feeling?" Cass's voice was steady, but his dark, fathomless irises betrayed him, trembling under the weight of restrained emotion.

Darrien's throat was raw when he answered, his voice scraping out like brittle glass. "I'm fine."

When was the last time anyone had looked at him like that—with such unguarded concern, so open and vulnerable? Perhaps only Leander, his one true friend, had ever dared to let such a genuine expression slip past the layers of calculated restraint that surrounded Darrien's life. And now Cass was looking at him the same way.

Darrien wanted to hold on to that gaze, to keep Cass looking at him with that rare honesty. But he knew better.

His mind had already played out the scenarios. The moment his mother found out that Kaylen had ended things, there would be consequences. His mother always demanded a target when things didn't go her way. Someone to punish. And Cass, a personal bodyguard kept at Darrien's side for nearly a year, would make an easy mark. His mother already suspected that Darrien harbored… feelings. And she wasn't wrong.

Darrien did care about Cass. More than he should. Cass's quiet strength, the unwavering way he stood by his side, his sharp yet gentle eyes that softened when he thought Darrien wasn't looking—it had all slipped past his defenses, curling into the hollow spaces inside his chest. Those dark, steady eyes reflected so much honesty, so much quiet devotion.

And that was exactly why it had to end.

After he convinced the doctors to discharge him, Darrien sat in the back seat of his sleek blue car and told Cass to drive him home. The ride seemed painfully short to Darrien. And awfully quiet. The car slowed before the imposing iron gates of the Valmoor estate, cold and unyielding beneath the dim afternoon light.

Darrien inhaled sharply. His hands clenched into fists on his lap. He steadied himself for the blow he was about to deliver.

"You're fired, Cassian Everdon," Darrien said, his voice glacial, sharp enough to draw blood.

Cass's hands tightened on the steering wheel. His brows knit together as he glanced at the rearview mirror, disbelief darkening his gaze. "What… do you mean, sir?"

"You heard me." Darrien's tone hardened. "I no longer require your services."

Cass turned fully this time, his gaze searching Darrien's face as though hoping for some sign this was a mistake. "But… sir, if I've done something wrong—if I've failed you in some way—please tell me. I can fix it."

Darrien's mouth curled into a cold smile that made his own stomach churn. His next words tasted like poison on his tongue. "You've dared to look at me in a way no personal bodyguard should look at his employer. It makes me sick to think that someone as lowly as you—a mere beta with nothing to his name—could even imagine feeling something for a noble, first-class omega like me."

Cass flinched as though struck. His eyes dropped to the floor. Guilt twisted across his face, but beneath it—beneath the mask of professional acceptance—Darrien caught the brief flicker of hurt.

"I… I'm sorry, sir." Cass's voice was barely a breath.

"I will see to it that your severance and final pay are deposited by tonight," Darrien said with cutting detachment. "Goodbye. I hope to never have the displeasure of seeing you again, Mr. Everdon."

Cass's hand hovered over the door handle for a brief moment before he pulled it open and stepped out. He didn't look back.

Darrien sat frozen in the back seat, his throat burning. His heart slammed wildly against his ribs, as if trying to crawl its way out. His chest ached with the weight of the words he'd spoken—the jagged, bitter words meant to cut Cass free. He had no right to this feeling. No right to the grief swelling inside him.

Because he was a Valmoor. He had been raised in a house of glass and ice, trained to measure worth in power and status. He was a creature of murky waters and poison-laced smiles. Cass had no business drowning with him.

But it hurt all the same.

Darrien had decided not to tell his mother about the breakup.

He had deeply agonized over it, his mind circling the same dark corridors, over and over, until the panic finally settled into stern resolve. Marrying Kaylen would have meant permanent entanglement in his mother's web—a gilded cage of manipulation and quiet suffocation. His mother was a creature of ruthless ambition, and someone like her would likely live over a hundred years, preserved by sheer force of will if nothing else. Sixty more years under her control. Sixty more years of performing, suffocating, calculating. It was a life sentence he couldn't endure.

Besides, Kaylen wasn't truly meant to be his to begin with. You can't steal someone else's fate and expect the universe to sit idly by. When you tamper with destiny, the scales will eventually rebalance themselves—violently, if necessary. All Darrien could do now was sit back and brace for the fallout. Whatever came next, the odds would be stacked against him.

Darrien knew this because he and his mother had done too much wrong. There were too many shadows under their names, too many stains etched into their bloodline. His mother believed herself above consequence, immune to the shifting tides of fate. But Darrien was not so deluded. He understood that the reckoning was inevitable—and when it came, he would accept it without complaint. After all, he deserved it.

Darrien stepped out of the car and headed straight for the the tea room, her usual unwinding spot. He found her seated in the armchair by the window, a thin glass of red wine balanced between her elegant fingers. Without preamble, he informed her that he had fired Cass.

His mother's thin brows lifted, a flicker of interest crossing her expression. "Ah. Is that so?"

She didn't ask why. She didn't need to. Her knowing smile—predatory glint in her eyes—made it clear she had already drawn her own conclusions. Whatever reasoning Darrien might have offered would have been irrelevant. His mother was pleased, and that was all that mattered.

Summer vacation had just begun, which meant Darrien no longer had to attend university for the next few months. He took the opportunity to request some personal time, using the hiring of a new bodyguard as an excuse.

His mother's eyes lingered on him, calculating as always. "But aren't you going to spend more time with Kaylen?"

Darrien's lips curled into a shallow imitation of a smile. "Kaylen is not on vacation and is still busy with assignments. He won't have much time for me. But I did see him this morning."

A lie. He delivered it smoothly. Years of practice had made deception second nature.

"Very well," his mother replied. "You're free to do as you please for the next few days. But don't forget—you're expected to begin your internship in the jewelry design department soon."

She took another sip of wine.

"And, Darrien, do remember to use contraception. I trust you'll make sure that whoever you sleep with doesn't get any dangerous ideas about talking."She continued with great emphasis.

Darrien's stomach curled at the casual way she said it, as if she were advising him to check the weather before leaving the house.

Ah, yes. His mother had been encouraging him to 'gain experience' ever since she sent him abroad with Kaylen. She had even provided him with pills for his supposed 'first time' with Kaylen—pills that would simulate the innocence of a virgin's body. The entire arrangement had been designed to keep Kaylen invested and under control.

Darrien had gone along with it, pretending indifference. What was the point in protesting? It wasn't as if it mattered.

Not that it had ever come to that. He had never slept with Kaylen—or anyone else, for that matter. But his mother assumed he had. He let her believe it. Why correct her? What difference would it make?

Darrien had considered it, once—the idea of finding comfort in another man's arms if Kaylen had grown cold in their marriage. But he doubted he would have followed through. He had always felt a quiet revulsion toward alphas. Something in their scent, in their innate possessiveness, in their lustful eyes made his skin crawl. If he had ever been that desperate, he likely would have sought out a beta instead.

Ironically, the only reason Darrien had been able to tolerate Kaylen—the only reason he had allowed himself to be affectionate—was because Kaylen had never treated him wantonly. Never made him feel like prey.

"Of course, Mother," Darrien replied smoothly.

His mother rose from her armchair and crossed the room to him. She cupped his cheek, her fingers cool against his skin, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. From the outside, it might have looked like a loving gesture. A mother's warmth. But Darrien knew better.

There was no one in the world more dangerous than his mother. She could don the mask of affection and kindness so effortlessly—just as easily as she could discard it and become something monstrous. That thin, perfect veneer could fracture at any moment, revealing the predator beneath.

Darrien smiled faintly as his mother withdrew. He watched her disappear down the hall, her heels clicking rhythmically against the marble floors.

Yes. His mother was terrifying. And he was her son.