FIRE BENEATH

The storm rolled in at dusk.

Lightning fractured the sky over the forest, sharp and violent. Thunder cracked so loud it rattled the windows of the cabin, and rain poured in sheets, drowning the world in gray.

Alina sat curled on the floor, forehead resting against her bruised knees, blood dried on her palms. She hadn't moved in hours.

Her mind was fractured.

Empty in places. Screaming in others.

Then… the sound.

Boots on wood.

The door creaked open again.

Not quietly this time.

He came in like the storm.

Cassian.

Soaked in rain. Face unreadable. Coat dripping. He didn't pause in the doorway. Didn't blink.

Alina looked up, dazed, lips parted.

His presence alone knocked the air out of her.

"What—" Her voice cracked. "Why are you here?"

He didn't answer.

Just shut the door behind him and locked it.

She swallowed hard.

His coat hit the floor.

Then the gun, placed calmly on the table. His gloves. His belt.

Piece by piece, he stripped down to the man underneath.

Not the underboss.

Not the ghost.

Just Cassian Vale.

And he looked like something about to break.

Or burn.

---

Alina stood slowly, trembling. "You said I was nothing to you."

"I lied."

That word broke something between them — sharp and jagged.

She moved toward him without knowing why.

Maybe it was madness.

Maybe she was too far gone to fear him anymore.

Or maybe she still wanted the man who once looked at her like she wasn't born of ruin.

"I thought you hated me," she whispered.

"I do," he said lowly.

She touched his chest.

"And yet you came."

Cassian's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. Not gently. Not cruelly. Just firm.

"I came to see if the guilt finally killed you," he said.

Her eyes burned. "And if it did?"

He stepped closer, voice dark. "Then I'd kiss your corpse."

That was all it took.

The line broke.

---

Their mouths crashed like thunder.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't forgiveness.

It was violence in silk — his hand tangled in her hair, her nails dragging down his spine.

He pushed her back against the wall, rain still dripping from his skin, heat radiating off him like a furnace.

Her back hit wood. His body followed.

"Still think I can't hurt you?" he growled against her mouth.

Alina gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. "I want you to."

"Don't beg for things you don't understand," he hissed.

"Don't threaten me with a fire I already live in."

That cracked him.

He kissed her again — deeper, messier. Teeth. Tongue. Breath.

One hand on her throat, just enough pressure to tilt her chin up.

The other sliding beneath her shirt like a warning and a promise.

---

Clothes vanished again — hers ripped, his tossed.

The storm outside matched the one inside.

Cassian lifted her like she weighed nothing, slamming her down on the table. The same one she'd eaten off for weeks in silence.

Now it creaked under her gasps.

His mouth traced every scar he'd left, like a man paying for his own sins with flesh.

"You think I forgot you?" he whispered.

Alina arched under him. "I hoped you didn't."

His hand gripped her hip hard. "Then suffer with me."

And she did.

Gladly.

Every thrust, every moan, every rough kiss tasted like guilt and fury. Like history. Like ruin.

Like the kind of love that burns everything around it just to feel alive again.

---

Afterward, the silence returned.

But it was different now.

Not hollow.

Not cold.

Just waiting.

Cassian didn't move for a long time. Just lay there beside her, staring at the ceiling, one hand over his eyes as if the weight of what they'd done — again — was too much to look at.

Alina turned her face toward him, voice hoarse.

"Why do you keep coming back?"

He didn't answer.

So she whispered the truth.

"I never wanted to betray you."

He turned to her finally, eyes shadowed. "Then why did you?"

"Because I was scared."

Cassian nodded once. Slowly.

"Fear makes traitors," he said.

Then: "But it also makes monsters."

She sat up, bruises blooming on her thighs like flowers. "Do you think I'm a monster now?"

He stood, pulling his shirt over his head.

"No," he said. "I think you're worse."

Her breath hitched. "Why?"

He looked back at her.

Because you made me want you even after you ruined me.

But he didn't say it out loud.

Instead, he walked to the door.

Paused.

And finally murmured, "You have one more night here."

She blinked. "What happens after that?"

Cassian didn't turn around.

"You find out what it means to be useful."

And then he was gone again.

Like he always was.

Like a ghost who never forgave.