Chapter 88: Help

The air on the balcony suddenly felt ten degrees colder. I answered, my voice a flat, dead thing. “What.”

“Cassian,” Charles Wolfe’s voice came through, rich with a simulated warmth that never reached his eyes. “I heard about the incident at the De la Vega estate. A fall from a horse? Quite dramatic, even for you.”

“Cut the bullshit, Charles. You don’t do check-ups.”

He chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. “You wound me. Can’t a father be concerned about his son’s physical well-being? Mateo told me you were quite the hero. Very ’old world’ of you.”

“No. What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always,” my father said, his tone shifting, the warmth evaporating to reveal the steel beneath. “How’s the Hendrix project progressing?”

I gave him the updates, brief, clinical, and devoid of any personal detail. I spoke of timelines, the progress of the site inspections, and the nervous investors I was currently keeping in line.

“Good. Good,” he murmured. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Now, I have a small job for you while you’re in Spain. Something that requires your specific… brand of persuasion.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet, Cassian.”

“I don’t care. I’m not your errand boy anymore, Father. I have shit to run.”

“You don’t have much of a choice,” he said, his voice hardening, the reminder of the leash he still held on me tightening. “Or have you forgotten who pulled the strings to get you out of prison after that… unpleasantness? Your boldness exists because I allow it to. Your freedom exists because I bought it.”

I clenched my jaw so hard I felt the muscles in my neck protest. I hated that he was right. I hated that every success I had was built on a foundation of his influence. “What is it?”

“There’s a businessman. Mr. Louis Durant. He owns a logistics company, small, but it holds the keys to the Mediterranean shipping routes I need. I’ve made him several generous offers, but the man is sentimental. He’s not budging.”

“And you want me to… what? Convince him?”

“He’s in Spain for his daughter’s wedding this week,” my father continued, ignoring my sarcasm. “A grand affair at a villa near Seville. I need you to pay him a visit. Make him see reason. Make him understand that sentiment is a luxury he can no longer afford.”

“I’m not a thug, Father. I don’t break legs for shipping routes.”

He laughed, a cold, sharp sound that made the hair on my arms stand up. “It’s a little late to develop a conscience, don’t you think? We both know what you’re capable of when pushed. My assistant will send you the details. The wedding is in three days. Handle it, Cassian. Don’t make me ask twice.”

“Oh, one more thing,” he added, his voice dropping into a casual, conversational tone that I knew meant danger. “Preston visited the HQ last week. He’s been helping himself to the files on your desk while you’re away. He saw something… interesting.”

My blood ran cold. I kept my breathing steady, but my grip on the balcony railing tightened.

“Noah Bennett,” my father said, the name sounding like a curse in his mouth. “Junior assistant. An unremarkable background. Scrappy, but ultimately insignificant. Preston seemed… curious. He asked why you’d have such an extensive file on someone so… low-level.”

“It’s routine,” I said, my voice perfectly even, practiced. “I do deep background checks on all new hires. Especially those with access to my personal schedule. You taught me that, didn’t you?”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. I could almost hear him weighing my words.

“I see,” he finally said. “I trust this Noah doesn’t pose any… complications. For our family. Or for the Hendrix deal. You know how Preston gets when he smells a distraction. He’s far less patient than I am.”

“He’s nobody. Just an assistant.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way. I’d hate for there to be any… unnecessary distractions in Spain. Enjoy the rest of your trip, Cassian. And fix your side. You sound breathless.”

The call ended with a sharp click.

I stood there for a long time, staring at the phone in my hand. Preston knew. My brother was a vulture, always looking for a weakness to exploit, and my father was a shark. They were looking at Noah as a potential liability. A “complication.”

In their world, people like Noah were deleted when they became inconvenient.

I looked through the glass of the balcony door. Noah was standing in the bedroom, looking around with a confused expression. He was searching for something, searching for me. He spotted me through the glass, his eyes meeting mine. He hesitated, then walked toward the door.

I composed myself instantly, slipping the phone into my pocket and taking one last drag of my cigarette before crushing it out in the ashtray.

Noah stepped outside, looking hesitant. “I was just… checking if you needed anything. You were out here a long time. I thought maybe you’d passed out from the nicotine.”

“I don’t,” I said, my expression bored, masking the turmoil my father had just stirred up.

“Oh. Okay.”

“But I doubt that’s the real reason you came.” I continued, a smile playing on my lips. “You just wanted an excuse to see me again Noah.”

“You give yourself too much credit Cassian.” Noah’s expression twisted instantly. “I won’t check in on your for the rest of the night again!”

He started to turn away, his shoulders slumped in a way that made him look small.

The phone call had left me unsettled, the shadows of my family reaching across the ocean to remind me that nothing I had was truly safe. I needed to feel the weight of my control again. I needed a distraction from the cold reality of the Wolfe family legacy.

“Actually,” I said.

Noah stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “What?”

A smirk tugged at my lips as I leaned back against the railing, the pain in my side a dull thrum. “You came at the right time. I need help getting back to the bed. My side is cramping.”

Noah frowned, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You walked out to the balcony just fine, Cassian. You’ve been standing there for ten minutes.”

“And now I’m tired,” I said, holding out a hand toward him. “Help me.”

Noah stepped closer, his expression wary. “You’re lying. You just want to mess with me again.”

“Maybe,” I murmured, my eyes locking onto his. “Are you going to risk letting your boss fall, or are you going to do as you’re told?”

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