He was gone.
I was shaking.
Were they going to kill Luca?
Were they going to kill me?
I didn't know what I was going to do. I couldn't get out—and even if I did, I couldn't stop any of this. The only thing left was to watch and hope.
"Khatm. Do your job. I'll handle the other one." Qassi's voice cut through the door like a blade.
Khatm moved forward, towering over Luca like an executioner. Just before I could see what he would do, a shadow crossed the crack in the door—blocking my view.
I backed up. Huddled against the stone wall. Waiting.
The door creaked open.
Qassi stepped inside—cold, composed, commanding. A man who truly believed the world belonged to him.
"You must be Cassian," he said. "Can you speak yet, or are you still too frightened?"
His voice sounded like a question, but it carried the weight of an order.
"Why the hell would I answer you?"
The words left my mouth before I could stop them. Brave. Stupid. Necessary.
Qassi smirked, unimpressed. "Doesn't matter. You'll die anyway."
He raised his arm—hand flat, fingers like a blade. The motion was slow, deliberate. He meant to take my head off in a single swing.
"Stay away from me!" Luca screamed out muffled behind the door.
"No! Please—don't hurt him. He didn't do anything!" I yelled, desperate to stall him.
"Perhaps," Qassi said. "But he's of Altair blood. And Altair blood must be purged—for the future of the Najmûn."
He stepped closer.
"Now die, you worthless Stillkin."
His arm came down like lightning—too fast to dodge.
"My lord—sorry to interrupt."
The voice rang from the door. Feminine. Breathless. Controlled.
His hand froze an inch from my throat.
"Speak. Now." His tone didn't rise. That somehow made it worse.
"Yes, forgive me," she said quickly. "If it's not too bold, the Alnilam family is seeking a new servant—a boy. This one might be the perfect fit."
A long pause.
"That minor house?" Qassi scoffed. "Irrelevant."
He looked at me again.
"Still... he's not of Altair blood. Just another useless orphan they took in."
He lowered his hand slowly, like death withdrawing.
"You're lucky, boy. Unlike the other."
Then he turned, stepped out, and locked the door behind him.
I crawled to the door without thinking—forgetting I was nearly executed seconds ago—and slammed my fists against it.
"LUCA!"
Nothing.
No answer. No voice.
I pressed my face to the crack again. The angle was tight, but I saw enough.
The chair.
The straps.
Luca's body tensed like a live wire, jerking against the leather.
Khatm stood beside him—unmoving, towering, a shadow in the flickering candlelight.
His hand reached beneath his robe, revealing a variety of tools.
Some were for tearing muscle.
Some for breaking bone.
Others—long, curved—designed for piercing deep into nerves and tissue.
He chose a pointed, hook-shaped blade—thin enough to pierce and disappear.
I watched it go in.
I watched it break Luca's skin.
Then the sound that broke me:
Not a scream.
Just a whimper. Guttural. Choked.
Like someone trying not to cry.
And Qassi?
He just stood there. Watching.
Like he was grading a science experiment.
I couldn't take it.
I couldn't breathe.
He's going to die.
He's going to die and I can't—
— LUCA —
White.
Everything was white.
My jaw clenched before the pain even hit.
The tool slid beneath my arm—smooth at first, then catching on something it shouldn't. My body jolted.
I didn't scream.
A breath escaped—sharp. A whimper, maybe. But not a scream.
I was saving that.
For Cass.
Because if I screamed now… he'd hear it.
And he didn't deserve that.
Am I going to die?
Not from cancer. Not from anything that made sense.
Like this?
I bit my tongue until I tasted blood. Something to hold onto.
Something that was mine.
Something they couldn't take.
Khatm didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
He moved with precision—slow, deliberate. Like this was routine.
The next cut came higher. Closer to my chest.
I felt something shift inside me. Not just pain.
Something deeper.
Wrong.
Like my body didn't belong to me anymore.
Cassian… don't watch.
Please don't watch.
Cold metal pressed against my chest.
Then—
movement.
A slow carving.
Deliberate.
A shape forming beneath the skin.
I couldn't see it.
But I understood it.
A mark.
A claim.
Something that meant I wasn't mine anymore.
"Do you believe in love?"
Qassi's voice drifted somewhere behind me. Calm. Detached.
Like this was nothing.
Like I was nothing.
"Well… do you love that Stillkin?"
My chest tightened.
I can't let that reach him.
I won't.
Not this.
Not any of it.
The tool changed.
Heavier.
Colder.
I didn't need to see it.
I already knew.
"Please, Luca! Let me feel the pain! You don't deserve this—please!"
Cassian's voice broke through everything.
Through the walls.
Through me.
I wanted to tell him to stop.
To run.
To leave me.
But all I could think was—
I'm sorry.
Don't watch.
The pressure closed around my hand.
A pause.
Then—
Snap.
The world fractured.
Pain tore through my arm—sharp, blinding—but I forced it down.
No scream.
Not yet.
Don't let him feel it.
Don't let Cass feel this.
My body thrashed. Useless.
The restraints held.
Another cut.
Then another.
I stopped counting.
I stopped trying to understand.
Time blurred.
Pain stopped being pain.
It just… was.
Something constant.
Something endless.
I couldn't feel my legs.
Couldn't see clearly.
But I could still feel him.
Cassian.
Still there.
Still fighting.
Still hurting.
And I couldn't stop it anymore.
Maybe this is okay.
Maybe it's better like this.
Maybe if it's me—
he won't have to carry it.
Maybe…
Maybe he'll finally find peace.