I finished bathing and pulled a towel from the towel rack to wrap myself.
The length was short, barely reaching mid-thigh. I limped close to the door and listened.
When I didn’t hear any sounds from the other side, I opened the door and walked into the bedroom, finding the new clothes folded neatly on the bed.
I picked it up, running my hand over the beige pants paired with a white blouse, the soft material smooth beneath my palms.
The person who selected it must have done their homework because the style and the size perfectly complemented my figure.
After putting myself together, I made my way downstairs, not calling Cassian to carry me. The pain from under my feet was bearable.
~~~
15 minutes later...
I stepped out of the front door and found that Ryan was still there.
He was leaning against his car, arms crossed, tension etched into every line of his body.
What was the colour of his problem? To think he’d still be waiting when two hours had already passed since he called?
"Finally," he said, but the moment he saw Cassian behind me, his eyes darkened.
His gaze moved from Cassian... to me, his expression shifting.
"What happened to you?" he asked, his voice low but tight underneath. He must have noticed how I was walking funny.
"I’m fine," I said quickly.
"She is," Cassian said smoothly, his voice calm as ever.
Ryan’s jaw tightened.
"I wasn’t asking you."
The air stilled.
Cassian didn’t react. He looked at Ryan, unbothered... as if the hostility didn’t quite reach him.
Then he looked at me. "Let’s get you home," Cassian said.
Ryan let out a short, humourless laugh. "Yeah. With me."
There was a pause.
"No." Cassian’s tone wasn’t loud, but it landed with finality.
Ryan straightened, pushing off the car.
"You don’t get to decide that."
Cassian’s gaze didn’t waver. "I already did."
A quiet silence stretched between them—tense, suffocating. It was as if they were having a staring competition.
Ryan’s eyes flicked to me.
"Isabelle. Come here."
My chest tightened. Instinct told me to move. To go to him like the real Isabelle would have done, to keep up appearances as siblings. But I didn’t.
And that hesitation was enough.
Ryan watched me, his expression hardening further.
"Isabelle," His voice was sharper this time.
I swallowed, instinctively taking a small step forward, before my brain could catch up, and then I stopped.
Because Cassian moved. It was just one step, but it brought me back to my senses.
"I said I’d take her back," Cassian repeated, his tone calm... but edged with something unyielding.
Ryan’s eyes snapped to him.
"And I said she’s coming with me."
Cassian’s gaze dropped briefly to me, then returned to Ryan’s face.
"Did you ask her?"
The question caught me off guard; even Ryan hadn’t expected it.
He frowned. "What?"
"Or are you deciding for her?" Cassian added, his voice quieter now but sharper.
Ryan’s jaw flexed. "I’m her brother. I don’t need permission to take her home."
"No," Cassian agreed lightly. "But you might need it to take her from me."
My breath caught.
I turned to look at Cassian, surprised by everything he kept saying.
Ryan stepped forward, his anger finally breaking through.
"From you?" he echoed. "Since when does she belong to you?"
Cassian didn’t answer immediately.
His gaze flickered to me then back to Ryan.
"I said I’d take her home." He paused. "And I keep my word."
The difference was subtle but undeniable.
Even Ryan could see it. This wasn’t an argument anymore.
A line had been drawn.
Ryan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustration clear in every movement.
Then his eyes landed on me again.
"Isabelle," he said, quieter this time. "You’re coming home. With me."
The pressure to keep up appearances returned, but this time... There was something else. Cassian’s presence.
I didn’t move.
And that was all it took.
Ryan’s expression shifted again; this time he looked like a lion who had been poked.
All this time Cassian didn’t move either; he didn’t speak. He just stood there... watching and waiting... Like he was letting me choose... for myself.
"I..." I started, my voice softer than I intended. "I’ll go with Cassian."
Silence.
Ryan stared at me. Like he didn’t quite recognise what he’d just heard.
"With him?" he repeated.
I nodded, even though my pulse was racing.
Why was Ryan pushing this? Why wouldn’t he let this go?
"He already said he’d take me back," I added. The explanation sounded weak—even to me, but it was enough.
Because I felt Cassian’s gaze back on me.
Ryan let out a slow breath, something tight settling in his expression.
"Fine," he hissed.
His gaze shifted to Cassian, hard and warning.
"This isn’t over."
Cassian met his eyes without reaction.
"It rarely is."
Ryan didn’t respond.
He just stepped back, opening the car door behind him—but not getting in.
He kept watching us, as if memorising this.
Cassian turned to me.
"Come." This time, I didn’t hesitate; I went.
~~~
When Cassian said he’d take me home himself, he had meant it literally. Randy and Andrew were nowhere in sight.
He held the door open for me, his hand settling at the small of my back, guiding me as I sat down.
The car door closed with a soft click.
The moment Cassian settled into the driver’s seat, the silence settled in with me.
It was heavy but not uncomfortable... But it wasn’t normal either.
Cassian started the engine without a word.
The car pulled away smoothly, leaving Ryan behind.
I didn’t look back. I told myself I didn’t need to. But still, my fingers curled slightly in my lap.
The city passed in a blur outside the window, but I barely registered it.
Because I could feel it... Cassian’s presence just beside me.
It wasn’t overwhelming or suffocating, but it was there, like something just beneath my skin.
I shifted slightly in my seat.
"Are you uncomfortable?" His low voice cut through the silence.
I stiffened. "No."
His gaze flickered to me briefly and then back to the road.
"Liar."
My head snapped toward him.
Cassian’s gaze remained on the road, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel. He looked unbothered, but there was something in his tone that made my pulse trip.
"I’m fine," I insisted, quieter this time.
Then his hand moved, coming to rest over my hand on the centre console. I could feel the heat of him without him even trying.
My breath hitched, my fingers stilling under his hand.
I should pull away... but I didn’t and I didn’t know why.
He didn’t look at me; he didn’t say anything, but that made the space between us feel even more charged.
"You hesitated," he said after a moment.
I swallowed. "About what?"
"When you answered," he replied. "When you moved. When you looked at me."
My chest tightened.
"I didn’t—"
"You did." His tone was certain, as if it wasn’t even up for debate.
I turned my face toward the window, trying to steady myself.
"Maybe it’s because you keep saying strange things," I muttered.
A faint sound left him. Not quite a laugh.
"Strange?" he repeated.
"Yes."
Finally, his gaze flickered toward me.
"Then get used to it."
My heart skipped.
Why did that sound like a warning?
The car slowed as we approached the Quinn estate gates, and for some reason, a small, unfamiliar tension curled in my chest.
Like something was about to end... Before it had even properly begun.