Page 74 of Second to None

“He made a fucking promise, Mason. He broke it.”

“Okay, look, I know this sucks. I get it.” His voice dropped. “But this was beyond his control, wasn’t it?”

“He should have seen the fucking camera.”

“You didn’t see it either.” Mason’s tone was gentle and careful, and yet the words sent something white-hot up my spine, raw and bitter. I wedged the phone tighter against my cheek, knife stilling in my hand.

“Fuck you.”

“Lee, I just think—” He broke off and tried again, quiet now. “I get that you’re scared. I get that the first time really blew, and trust is earned, not given.”

“I’m not scared,” I snapped.

His voice remained gentle. “Aren’t you?”

“Look, I get it. Everyone loves Cass.” My bones felt as brittle as old glass, onions and garlic clogging my senses. I turned off the stove. “Can do no wrong, can he?”

Mason made a small, exasperated sound. “He’s only human. So yeah, he does fuck up. Just like we all do. But it sounds like in this particular case, he didn’t actually do anything wrong.”

Oh, for fuck’ssake.

“He broke his promise,” I repeated, each word lined with meaning.

“It was an impossible promise, and you know it.” Mason’s tone was reasonable in a way that prickled all along my spine. “The moment you two became something again—he’s Cassian Monroe, Lee. You can’t be with him unless you’re willing to be caught in his spotlight at least a little bit.”

“I know he’s Cassian fucking Monroe, thanks.” My words trembled around the edges. I dropped the knife and placed both hands flat on the worktop, just… breathing.Breathing.

Silence.

Then Mason spoke again, all soft and understanding. “And because he’s Cassian fucking Monroe, you still don’t think he’s gonna stay. Meanwhile, he believes he deserves to be yelled at, and that he’s not allowed to fight for a second chance with you.”

“That’s bollocks.”

“Is it?” Still so fucking soft, like Mason knew me better than I did. “Maybe you should ask yourself if there’s anything he could do that would convince you he’s for real. If you ever even gave him a chance.”

Bile rose sharp in my throat. “Fuck off, Mason,” I said, voice shaking. I ended the call with a jab of my finger and sent the phone skittering across the worktop, turned away, my hands gripping the windowsill. The glass was cool against my forehead, fever still crawling under my skin.

Mason waswrong. So really, just… fuck him.

* * *

For most ofmy time with Neon Circuit, sleep had been a beautiful luxury I’d learned to grab with both hands—in twenty-minute increments, if necessary. Then Cass and I had gone to shit, and insomnia joined the list of all things wrong with me. Therapy had taught me to accept that lying awake wasn’t the end of the world, that I’d rest when I could, that my body would catch up.

I was here, and I was sober. My heart was still beating.

I did much better these days, but trying to fall asleep in a bed that Cass and I had shared just a night ago? Fuck. Shadows crowded the space in my mind, his low, hurt voice asking me whether I really thought that fame and the adoration of strangers was all he wanted.

‘Give me a reason, Cass. Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t.’

‘I’m still in love with you. That’s my reason.‘

Rubbish. He’d just… He’d justsaidthat to feel better about this absolute shitshow. It wasn’t true. Even if he believed it—well, hey. Five years without contact painted a pretty clear picture. And sure, that went both ways, but he was the one who’d walked away.

Slow breaths, deep and steady.

* * *

Porto Cervo,Sunday, August 31st

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