Chapter 21
Everything around us went tense. The guards behind Cassian stepped forward and Hakeem’s men twitched like they were ready to draw. I could feel the heat rising in the room, that old mafia tension where one blink too hard meant blood on the floor.
Then Hakeem’s phone rang.
He answered it without looking away from me. I didn’t flinch. I just tilted my head, studied him the way you study a fire that used to warm you but now only burns.
I heard his voice shift. Cold. Pissed.
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His man said something like, “We traced the last location of Harmony. Abandoned church. Signs of recent shelter. Possible brother nearby.”
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I felt the flicker in his expression. His grip loosened. Slowly, his hand fell away.
He looked at me again. This time not with confusion. With confirmation. With fury.
Obsession.
“We’re not done,” he muttered.
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And then he turned around and stormed out of the gala like a man ready to burn the world just to find one woman.
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I didn’t breathe until his footsteps vanished.
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Then I exhaled, slow and quiet, and fixed my dress where his fingers had crumpled the
fabric.
Cassian’s eyes were on me immediately. “Are you okay?”
I turned to him, let my lips curl into the slightest smile. Not sweet. Not soft.
“He’s starting to believe,” I whispered. “Good.”
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After the full drama that happened that night, I won the damn “Rising Actress of the Year” award like I wasn’t almost abducted backstage in heels and a silk dress. The crowd roared when they called my name and I walked up the stage like the war I lived through wasn’t tattooed under my skin. Cameras flashed so hard I could barely see, but I kept my posture regal and my smile calm but cold, because tonight I didn’t just win a title–I claimed back a piece of my power.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Cassian at the back of the venue, arms crossed, not clapping but watching. Always watching. That look he gives me sometimes. It’s like he’s daring the world to touch me just once, so he can ruin it.
Leandro practically tackled me off–stage, pulling me into a proud side hug. He was grinning from ear to ear like a madman.
“My god, you’ve got it, niña,” he said, voice booming. “You’re fire and steel and beauty
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come celebrate with us. Dinner with the crew, drinks, press! You earned it.”
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I chuckled softly and adjusted my clutch in my hand. “Rain check, Leandro,” I said as gently as I could while already scanning the exit.
He raised a brow and smirked, glancing between me and Cassian. “Ohhh? Now that explains the fire in your scenes. Go then. Go kiss your grumpy soldier.”
I laughed under my breath because he wasn’t wrong.
Cassian didn’t smile. He just led me out of the hall through the private side exit like we rehearsed, like he planned it from the start. His hand stayed near the small of my back the whole time, not touching but close enough to remind me I wasn’t alone. We passed two layers of security, and his guards were in sync like sharks circling the car.
When we reached the black SUV, he opened the door for me without a word, eyes sweeping the perimeter like he didn’t trust the world tonight. And honestly? He shouldn’t.
I slid in, legs crossed, back straight, dress torn slightly at the hem but face still flawless.
Cassian got in after and slammed the door shut. The driver started the engine, and as the car rolled away from the gala lights, he finally looked at me.
“We’re going back,” he said quietly. “They’re waiting for us.”
We arrived at the underground safehouse just past midnight, buried deep beneath Cassian’s island estate. The ride down was quiet–just the hum of old iron gears grinding and the metal elevator sinking below sea level. When the doors finally opened, fluorescent lights buzzed overhead and the chill of cold cement walls brushed my arms like a silent threat. Cassian walked in first, his body tense but steady, like a loaded gun with a velvet
trigger.
They were already waiting.
The two bastards who tried to drag me off stage were tied to chairs in the middle of the room. Both bloodied and barely breathing. One’s nose bent in the wrong direction, the other’s chest rising uneven–broken ribs, maybe more. Their wrists were bound behind their backs, duct tape over splintered skin, and blood pooled beneath their boots like cheap ink.
Cassian stayed composed.
“They were amateurs. Paid to abduct you. Not kill. But I don’t like amateurs thinking they can touch what’s mine.”
I walked in behind him, my heels clicking sharp against the cement. I didn’t speak at first. Just stood in front of them.
One of the men lifted his head, barely able to look me in the eye. His lip was split open, teeth knocked out, and his breath wheezing.
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“We didn’t know… we didn’t know you are really Harmony,” he muttered. “We were just paid…”
I crouched a little, not smiling.
“You put your hand on me,” I said quietly. “You tried to ruin my moment. Do you know what I had to survive to stand under that spotlight? To wear this name?”
I stood up and turned as Cassian stepped beside me, silent but steady. He pulled a combat knife from the holster under his jacket and held it out to me, hilt first.
“You want to mark them,” he asked, “or should I?”
I stared at the blade, then at the men.
“Not yet,” I said, voice even.
I stepped closer, leaned between their chairs, and lowered my voice like a lullaby made of poison.
“When Margaret paid you… did she tell you what she did to my mother? Did she tell you that she locked the doors and laughed while the house burned? Did she mention how Hakeem stood there… let his men whip me and poured her ashes on me like fucking confetti? No? Good. Then I’ll show you. In hell.”
I turned without waiting for a reply and walked out, my heels echoing like gunshots across the floor.
Cassian followed. As soon as we reached the door, he paused and gave his quiet order without blinking.
“Throw their bodies in the sea. And send their heads to Margaret… in red velvet boxes. Hand–delivered.”
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t stop walking. Let her see what happens when a ghost rises not to haunt… but to hunt.
Chapter 21
