Page 16 of Daisy
Cassian
The past has teeth.
I learned that lesson young, in foster homes that smelled like cigarettes and disappointment, in group homes where the strong survived and the weak disappeared. I learned it again every time I stepped into an underground ring, trading pieces of my soul for enough money to eat.
But I thought I'd escaped it when I found August.
Sitting in our small apartment now, watching him move around the kitchen making dinner like this is any other evening, I can almost pretend the past is just that—past. That the violence and desperation that shaped me are things I've left behind, filed away in some dark corner of my memory where they can't hurt either of us.
Almost.
"You're thinking too loud," August says without turning around. He's making pasta—something simple but good, the way he does everything. "I can practically hear the gears grinding from here."
I lean back against the couch, studying the line of his shoulders as he stirs the sauce. A year together, and he stillsurprises me. Still sees through the walls I spent twenty-seven years building.
"Just thinking about what we're getting into," I tell him.
"Having second thoughts?"
"About protecting innocent omegas from violent alphas? No." I stand up, crossing to wrap my arms around his waist from behind. He melts back against me immediately, trust written in every line of his body. "About dragging you into danger? Always."
August covers my hands with his, thumb tracing over the faded scars on my knuckles. "You're not dragging me anywhere. This was my idea, remember?"
"Your idea to help. My idea to do it in whatever fucked-up way I know how."
"Cassian." He turns in my arms, hazel-green eyes serious. "Do you remember what you told me the night you bit me?"
Heat floods through me at the memory. Not just physical heat, though that's there too—August naked beneath me, neck arched in offering, the taste of his blood on my tongue. But emotional heat. The moment when everything I'd kept locked away came spilling out.
"I told you a lot of things that night," I say roughly.
"You told me you were done running from what you are." His hands come up to frame my face, fingers gentle against my cheekbones. "You said being with me didn't make you weak. It made you stronger. More focused."
I did say that. In the aftermath of claiming him, when endorphins and emotion had stripped away every filter I'd ever had. When the truth felt safer than the lies I'd been telling myself.
"And you said you'd never let anyone hurt me." August's voice drops to a whisper. "Not even yourself."
"I meant it."
"I know you did. And I believe you still mean it now." He presses a soft kiss to my jaw. "But Cass... what if protecting me means protecting them too? What if the only way to keep me safe is to make sure the world doesn't completely fall apart?"
Smart. Too smart for his own good, my beta. He knows exactly which buttons to push to get through my defenses.
"You think if we don't act, the violence will spread?"
"I think angry alphas don't stop at one target." August steps back to check the pasta, but his scent carries his worry—cedarwood and parchment with bergamot, now edged with anxiety. "I think once they decide the rules don't apply to them, they'll keep pushing boundaries until someone stops them."
He's right. I know he's right. I've seen it happen before, in the underground circuits, in the foster system, in every corner of society where desperate people decide they have nothing left to lose.
Violence spreads like infection. And once it starts, it's almost impossible to stop.
"Okay," I say. "So we go. We watch. If something happens?—"
"When something happens," August corrects.
"When something happens, we step in." I turn off the burner under the sauce, decision made. "But we do this smart. No unnecessary risks. No heroics."
August smiles, the expression lighting up his whole face. "Deal."
