Chapter 96: New Rules

NOAH

Cyan was wealthy, he was experienced, he was an equal to the Wolfes. If I accepted his help, it wouldn’t be an escape; it would be a surrender. It would prove that I was exactly what Cassian said: nothing special. A little Chihuahua that needed a new owner.

I wasn’t going to beg Cyan to save me. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me broken.

Cyan waited for a response. When the silence stretched too long, he let out a soft, melodic sigh. “Goodnight, Noah.”

His footsteps faded away.

I was alone. The suite was silent now, but the air felt different. The “distraction” was sitting in the dark, and for the first time since I got to Spain, I saw everything with terrifying clarity.

I couldn’t take Cyan’s offer. Being his “charity case” would be a different kind of prison. But Alex…

Alex had been kind. He’d looked at me in the gym and seen a person, not a toy. He’d offered me a job, a salary, a way out that was professional and clean. It wouldn’t be a rescue; it would be a career move. I wouldn’t owe him my soul, just my labor.

A dark, cold resolve began to settle over me.

If Cassian thought I was nothing special… if he thought he could just “let me go” whenever he was bored… then fine. I wasn’t going to wait around for the day he looked at me and felt nothing. I wasn’t going to be the one left standing at the curb while he drove away.

I would leave first.

I’ll take Alex’s offer. I’ll go to his villa, I’ll work for him, and I’ll disappear from Cassian Wolfe’s life so completely it’ll be like I never existed.

But not tonight. And not tomorrow.

If Cassian wanted a “distraction,” I would give him one he would never forget. I was going to make him regret every word he said to Cyan. I was going to make him want me so badly it hurt, and then, right when he realized I was the only thing he actually couldn’t own…

I was going to walk out the door.

I stood up, wiping my face and straightening my clothes in the dark. I wasn’t an object. And I wasn’t property.

“Nothing special?” I whispered to the empty room, my voice trembling with a new, dangerous kind of strength. “We’ll see about that, Cassian.”

I walked back to the bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling. The game had changed. I wasn’t playing by his rules anymore. I was playing by mine.

….

I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the clinical snap of Cassian’s voice echoing through the crack in the door: “He’s a distraction.”

By 6:00 AM, I was in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at a ghost. My eyes were rimmed with red, a roadmap of the humiliation I’d endured in the dark. But as I splashed freezing water on my face, the sadness began to calcify into something else. Something colder. Something sharper.

I was done being the “poor little assistant.” If Cassian wanted a distraction, I would show him exactly how distracting a bridge burning behind him could be.

I reached for the sharpest suit in the wardrobe, a midnight-blue number from Cyan’s boutique that fit like a second skin. I spend twenty minutes on my hair, ensuring every strand was immaculately placed. I looked polished. I looked expensive. I looked like a man who didn’t spend his nights crying on a bedroom floor.

When I emerged into the living room, briefcase in hand, Cassian was already there. He was dressed in black, looking like the king of a very dark mountain, but he froze when he saw me. His eyes did a slow, sweeping trek from my polished shoes to my unreadable expression.

“You’re up early,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

I didn’t look at him. I busied myself checking the latch on my briefcase. “The meeting starts in an hour. I’m heading over now to review the materials and ensure the projector setup is compatible with our files.”

Cassian’s brow furrowed. The air between us felt thick, charged with the leftovers of his late-night conversation with Cyan. “I’ll come with you.”

“That’s not necessary,” I said, my tone as polite and professional as a pre-recorded voicemail. “I can handle the prep work. You should focus on the meeting strategy.”

I finally met his eyes, not with the usual spark of defiance, but with a flat, empty neutrality that seemed to catch him off guard. He opened his mouth, likely to issue a command or a biting remark, but I cut him off before he could find the words.

“I’ll see you there, Mr. Wolfe.”

I turned and walked out the door. The silence he left in my wake felt like a small victory.

…

The meeting venue was a sleek conference room on the top floor of the Hotel Arts. Tall windows offered a dizzying view of Barcelona, the Mediterranean shimmering like a sheet of hammered silver in the distance.

I arrived forty minutes early. The room was mostly empty, save for a few investors huddled by the espresso machine. And, of course, Alex Hendrix.

Alex looked up, a genuine smile breaking across his face when he saw me. He looked effortless in a light gray suit, a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness Cassian usually radiated. “Noah! You’re early. I didn’t expect to see the main event so soon.”

“Wanted to make sure everything was set up properly,” I said, forcing a small, pleasant smile. It felt foreign on my face, but I leaned into it.

“Join me for a coffee?” Alex gestured to the station.

I hesitated. I knew the “terms.” I knew Cassian would view this as a declaration of war. Good, I thought. Let him see the spoils of his own arrogance. “Sure,” I said. “I could use the caffeine.”

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