Chapter 121: Appreciation

CASSIAN

The hallway of the hotel was no longer a solid, structural thing. It had become fluid, stretching ahead of me like a corridor in a funhouse mirror, warping and elongating with every leaden step I took.

My vision was the first thing to truly fail. The edges of the world blurred into a hazy, watercolor mess, everything slightly off-center as if I were looking through a foot of moving water. I reached out, my fingers grazing the expensive wallpaper to anchor myself. The texture was rough against my palm, a much-needed reminder that the floor wasn’t actually vertical.

The headache wasn’t just a pain; it was a rhythmic assault. It pounded behind my eyes, sharp and relentless, each footfall sending a fresh spike of agony through my skull. My balance was a joke. I felt the floor tilt beneath me, a phantom wave tossing me toward the wall. I caught myself, leaning heavily against the wood paneling, my breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches.

Nausea rose in my throat, hot and bitter. I swallowed it down, forcing it back with the sheer, agonizing weight of my will. I couldn’t be sick here. I couldn’t be weak here. I had to keep moving. One foot in front of the other. Refusing to stop. Refusing to succumb to the damage I’d sustained in that mangled wreck of a car.

Even as my brain struggled to process the physical world, it was hyper-focused on the ghost of the man I’d just left behind.

I couldn’t stop replaying the scene in the suite. Noah’s face… the way it had crumpled when I threw his own accusations back at him. I could still hear his voice echoing in the hollow chambers of my head, louder than the pulsing of my own blood.

“You’re so fucking stubborn. You almost died today.”

There had been concern in his tone. Actual, unvarnished concern. Not the professional worry of an assistant or the fearful compliance of a subordinate. He had looked at me like it actually mattered if I lived or died. Like I was more than just a name on a contract.

The thought made something in my chest tighten, a physical ache that was far more uncomfortable than the bruised ribs. I shouldn’t have said those things. I shouldn’t have been so cruel. I shouldn’t have used his own vulnerability as a weapon to drive him away.

Stop thinking about him, I commanded myself, but it was useless. He was everywhere. He was in every breath that hurt to take, in every thought that swirled through my concussed mind.

Part of me… the part I spent every waking hour trying to suppress… wanted to turn around. I wanted to go back into that room, pull him into my arms, and tell him that I didn’t mean a word of it. I wanted to tell him that I wanted him to stay. I wanted to mark him, to make him mine so completely that the world would know he was untouchable. I wanted to erase any trace of Alex Hendrix from his thoughts.

No, I reminded myself, the internal voice cold and unforgiving. He doesn’t belong to you. Not anymore.

I fumbled for my phone, the screen swimming in my vision like a bright, rectangular fish. I blinked hard, squinting until the icons stopped vibrating long enough for me to find my driver’s number.

He answered on the first ring. “Mr. Wolfe?”

“Meet me at the hotel entrance,” I said, my voice sounding like it was coming from a long way away. “Now.”

“Yes, sir. I’m pulling up in five minutes.”

I ended the call and shoved the phone back into my pocket, the movement nearly sending me over the edge. The hallway tilted again, a violent lurch that forced me to grab the wall with both hands. I closed my eyes, breathing through the nausea, letting the cool surface of the wall press against my burning forehead.

Maybe Noah was right. Maybe I did need to get checked. The symptoms were textbook… the blurring, the loss of equilibrium, the piercing headache. But I couldn’t afford to be a patient right now. I had things to handle. People to see. The investigation into the truck was already moving, and I couldn’t afford a single moment of weakness if I was going to find out who had tried to take my life.

The lobby was a gauntlet of sensory overload. The lights were too bright, stabbing into my skull like needles. I pushed through the heavy glass doors, the cool night air of Barcelona hitting my face like a bucket of cold water.

And there he was.

Alex Hendrix was leaning against his car, his posture casual, relaxed. He had his phone in his hand, the blue light reflecting off his face, giving him an almost ghostly appearance. He looked like a man without a care in the world… certainly not a man whose business partner had just survived a lethal car accident.

I wanted to avoid him. I wanted to slip past and wait in the shadows for my car. But as I moved toward the curb, his head snapped up. He saw me.

He pocketed his phone and straightened, a slow, easy smile spreading across his face. But as he approached, I realized the mask was different. The “nice guy” façade was still there, but it was slipping at the edges, revealing something sharper and far more predatory underneath.

“Cassian,” he said, his voice pleasant. Too pleasant. “I didn’t think I’d see you here. Leaving already?”

I didn’t respond. I kept walking, though my steps were measured and stiff.

Alex fell into step beside me, his energy high, almost buzzing. “I wondered why Noah was taking so long to dress up for our little date. I guess you must have been the reason for the delay.”

I felt a surge of white-hot protective rage. “Go find somewhere else to be a nuisance, Alex.”

“Oh but you really should be resting,” Alex continued, his tone shifting into something mocking and sarcastic. The concern was so fake it was insulting. “After such a terrible accident. I saw the car, you know. It’s a miracle you’re even standing.”

“Leave me alone.”

Alex laughed… a genuine, dark sound. “Now, how could I do that? When I haven’t even thanked you yet.”

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