Chapter 4: Pieces of the Past

Cassian wasn't a man who ignored his instincts.

And right now, they were screaming at him.

Elara Voss. He had met her before—he was sure of it. But no matter how hard he tried to pull the memory forward, it remained frustratingly out of reach.

Across the ballroom, she was speaking with a waiter, effortlessly directing the event as if nothing was wrong. "As if she didn't feel the weight of his stare."

He took another sip of his drink. "Who are you, Elara?"

Backstage

Elara forced herself to breathe normally. Keep moving. Keep acting like nothing is wrong.

The night was almost over. She just needed to avoid Cassian a little longer.

But fate had other plans.

As she turned the corner, her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, expecting another text from Oliver—

But the message froze her in place.

Olivia: "Mom, Oliver opened the door. We're in the ballroom."

Her heart stopped.

"No. No, no, no."

Shoving her phone back into her pocket, she "spun on her heel and rushed toward the ballroom."

The Moment She Feared

Cassian had just set his glass down when he noticed movement by the entrance.

Two small figures slipped inside—a boy and a girl, maybe five or six, whispering to each other as they weaved through the crowd.

Something about them caught his eye.

And then the boy turned.

Cassian's breath stilled.

Those eyes. Dark, sharp—a perfect mirror of his own.