Page 9 of Crushed Vow
“I’m not okay,” I whispered, curling in on myself. “I’m not okay.”
He stood there like a statue, guilt carved into every line of his face.
And then, just as I’d managed to catch a shaky breath, he said—
“Your mother... she’s gone.”
The words hit harder than a scream.
I froze.
Everything inside me turned cold. Numb.
“What?” I whispered.
“She died,” he said softly. “A few months after you disappeared.”
“No...” I blinked, breath catching. “You said she was alive—”
“You tortured her,” I whispered. “You let your revenge kill her—just like it almost killed me.”
“I didn’t—” He stepped forward.
“GET OUT!” I screamed again, slamming my fists against the wall. “GET OUT!”
Ethan appeared, face drawn. “Mr. Moretti. You need to leave.”
Cassian didn’t argue.
He turned slowly, his jaw flexing, the storm in his eyes still crackling. For a second, I thought he might explode. But instead, he just reached into his coat, pulled out a card, and held it out to Ethan.
“If anything happens to her,” he said quietly, “call me.”
Ethan took the card without a word.
Cassian stepped to the door but paused—just for a heartbeat. His gaze flicked to mine. Not pleading. Not soft. Just... searching.
Then, under his breath, low enough that only I could hear it, he muttered, “I wasn’t built to survive losing you twice.”
And then he was gone.
I collapsed to the floor, trembling. My breath hitched. My mind splintering under the weight of it all.
Ethan’s footsteps approach, soft but steady, his lanky 6’2 frame crouching before me, his brown eyes gentle behind his tech-nerd glasses. He doesn’t touch me, respecting the space my trauma demands,
“Charlotte,” he said gently. “You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. My body felt like it had been turned inside out. I didn’t even know where to put my hands.
“Shall I help you inside?” he asked softly, his voice deliberate and low.
“No...” I choked. “No, I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
He didn’t move to touch me—just nodded, then sat down beside me on the steps. Close, but not too close. The gesture meant more than any hug could’ve.
My breath steadied just enough to speak. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No,” he said simply. “You’re hurting. That’s not the same.”
