Before I can stop him, he bends down and picks me up over his shoulder. I immediately start shouting profanities and kicking my feet, but he ignores it all as he carries me up to the house.
There’s too much tangled up inside me—anger, want,him—so yeah, I’ll make sure both of us feel all of it.
Cason doesn’t stop fighting,not for a second. His weight shifts against my shoulder as he kicks, twisting, swearing at me like he means every word. There’s no hesitation in it, no performance. He’s genuinely angry, and I feel it in every jerk of his body, every harsh word that he throws at me, and every weak jolt of lightning he sends my way.
“Put me the fuck down, Reese!”
“No.”
He huffs out something between a curse and a growl, shoving at my back, trying to throw off my balance. If he wanted to, he could drop me. I’ve felt what that electricity does. I know exactly how easily he could bring me to my knees again.
But he doesn’t, and that tells me everything I need to know.
He needs this. He needs the fight, the release.
I tighten my grip on him just enough to keep him steady as I head up the front steps toward the house, ignoring the way he continues to struggle. But he’s like a fucking worm, and I have my shadows following at my heels just in case he squirms out ofmy hold.
“Fight me all you want,” I tell him. “There won’t be any running from this.”
“I’m not running. I’m trying to punch you!”
I can feel his fists hitting my back, but he’s not hitting me hard enough to leave any marks.
This time, I have enough of my common sense in place to instruct my shadows to open the door. They do, and it swings open. As I carry him inside, voices cut off and everything goes still.
Mia is the first one I see, leaning against the wall in the living area, mid-conversation with two of our other Ascended. All three of them freeze when they clock the situation. Cason over my shoulder, swearing, kicking. Very much not subtle.
Mia’s brows lift slowly. “Well,” she says dryly, “this feels like something we shouldn’t get involved in.”
“Correct,” I reply without breaking stride.
“Good luck with that,” one of the others mutters.
Cason twists enough to look their way. “Your boss is a fucking prick!”
“You don’t have to tell us.” Mia laughs and turns away like she’s seen worse.
I don’t stop. I don’t slow down to scold her or to explain. If I do, I’d have to tell her how things went at the Institute today, and I can’t do that. Not yet. I can’t tell anyone about the promise I made.
Promise.
The word sits wrong in my head and tastes even worse. The truth is Malcolm didn’t let us walk out of there because he trusts me. He let us walk out because he trusts what I’ll do for Cason. He saw it, clear as day, laid out in front of him like a weakness he can exploit whenever he wants. He put a gun to Cason’s head, and I folded.
I’ll always fucking fold when it comes to him.
And now Malcolm knows there’s no version of any of this where I risk him, that I’ll burn everything I’ve built to keep Cason breathing. That makes me predictable. Controllable.Useful. All the things he wants to own.
My jaw tightens as I adjust my grip on Cason, continuing to ignore the way he’s still fighting me and screaming, still trying to shove me off because I just traded something I swore I never would.
But I haven’t shut anything down yet. And the thing is…
I won’t.
Malcolm just needs to believe I will. He needs to believe he’s already won. And as long as Cason is standing next to me when that time comes, I’ll play along. For now. Apparently, the rules have changed. Malcolm didn’t just let me walk out of that building. He let Cason walk out too. That wasn’t mercy. It was leverage.
Andthatis the real reason Cason is still hitting my back as I push through the hallway, all his rage bleeding out of him. But I’ll let him do it. Because at least he’s here. At least he’s alive.
Even if I have to learn the new rules of whatever game Malcolm is playing now, Cason will always be mine to protect.
