Chapter 12: The Shadow Named Cassian
The hallway outside was still. The kind of stillness that comes after lightning—but before the fire catches.
Nova didn't breathe. Not really. Not the way someone does when they feel safe. She held her chest like the air had turned to glass.
Bea stood between her and the door, spine straight, eyes hard. "If we run now, we'll never stop running."
Nova swallowed. "Then we don't run."
She took a shaky step forward, until her hand brushed Bea's.
"I have you," Bea said softly. "I won't let anyone hurt you."
Nova wanted to believe that. But belief was hard when your past wore a voice like velvet and knocked like it still owned you.
Another knock—softer this time. Almost… gentle. Like a trap being baited.
"Nova," the voice said again, rich and careful. "You can't hide behind your little artist forever. Come talk to me, just you and me."
Bea flinched at the insult but didn't move. Her hand gripped Nova's tighter.
"Let him talk," Nova whispered. "He won't go away otherwise."
Bea's jaw ticked, but she nodded.
They unlocked the door—but only halfway. The chain stayed.
Cassian's face was right there in the crack. Sharp jaw. Cold eyes. He was too handsome for someone so poisonous.
"Hello, firefly," he said.
Nova didn't answer. Her voice had frozen somewhere in her chest.
Cassian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Still stubborn. I missed that."
Bea stepped in, blocking the view. "You missed your chance. She's not yours anymore."
Cassian laughed softly. "Cute. You must be the rebound."
"She's mine," Bea said. "Now back the hell off."
Nova expected him to lash out. But he didn't. That was the problem with Cassian—he didn't break things with fists. He broke them with patience.
"I just want to talk," he said. "But fine. I'll wait. You can't live in a dream forever, Nova. The world always finds you."
He turned and walked down the hallway like he owned it.
The silence that followed was louder than anything.
Bea closed the door slowly and locked it again.
Nova finally exhaled.
And then she broke.
Not into pieces—but into fire.
"I'm done," she said, her voice low. "He haunted me for years. I thought I'd buried him in silence. But silence doesn't kill ghosts—it feeds them."
Bea moved to her, cupped her face. "Then let's haunt him back."
A tear slid down Nova's cheek, but she smiled.
Not out of fear.
Out of fury.
Out of strength.
Out of love.
The kind of love that doesn't just survive darkness—it becomes the flame in the night.