"Shit," Cassian muttered under his breath, snatching up his phone as it buzzed again on the nightstand.
Savannah's voice was heavy with sleep. "What's wrong?"
Cassian was already sitting up, running a hand through his hair, eyes fixed on the message glowing on his screen. "Nothing, baby. Just an important meeting came up."
Her brow furrowed as she pushed herself onto her elbows. "On a Sunday?"
"You never know when business knocks," he said, forcing a smirk, but his tone betrayed the tension humming under his skin. "Sometimes it kicks your door down at dawn."
Before she could press him further, he leaned down, brushed a kiss against her forehead, and grabbed his jacket. "I'll call you later. Try to have a nice day, yeah?"
"Cassian…"
But he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him before her words could stop him.
Savannah sighed, dropping back onto the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. She told herself not to overthink it. He probably really did have some last-minute emergency to deal with. That was Cassian, always juggling a hundred fires at once.
Sleep dragged her under again, and when she opened her eyes, the light had shifted. A glance at the clock made her blink. 5:22 p.m.
"Damn," she muttered, rubbing her face. "How the hell did I sleep this long?"
She rolled out of bed, padding barefoot to the bathroom, the tiles cool beneath her feet. A quick shower helped wash away the grogginess, but the nagging weight in her chest remained. No missed calls. No texts. not a damn word from Cassian all day.
Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten. She didn't feel like cooking, didn't feel like doing much of anything. So she ordered takeout: spicy pad thai and spring rolls from the Thai place two blocks over. When it arrived, the smell alone made her mouth water. She dug in, flipping through channels, trying to distract herself.
The news anchor's voice pulled her in.
"...Shocking reports this afternoon as police confirm the death of billionaire real estate mogul Grant Caldwell. Caldwell was found dead inside his mansion under mysterious circumstances. Authorities have not yet released details on the cause of death, but sources say foul play is suspected. Investigators are following all leads."
The footage shifted to an image of the man's body being wheeled out on a stretcher, a grainy zoom on his arm where the sheet had slipped. Savannah froze, chopsticks halfway to her mouth.
Her breath hitched.
There, just above his wrist, was a tattoo. Dark. Jagged. The same symbol etched on Cassian's shoulder.
"Oh, fuck," she whispered, the food forgotten. A cold wave washed over her as the puzzle pieces she'd tried to ignore clattered together in her mind.
Tattoo. The secrecy. The disappearances. The warnings.
She shut off the TV, set the half-eaten meal aside, and began pacing the room, heart racing.
Is that why he didn't call? Was he involved?
"Don't be stupid," she hissed to herself, but the thought wouldn't leave.
Needing answers, needing to see him, she grabbed her phone and hit video call.
Cassian picked up almost immediately. The screen showed him at his desk, papers spread out, pen in hand. His office.
"Hey, sweetheart." His smile was tired but genuine. "What's wrong?"
"I….I just needed to see you," she admitted. "You've been quiet all day."
"I told you I had work," he said, gesturing at the chaos on his desk. "Didn't mean to worry you. What's going on?"
Savannah hesitated, then blurted it out. "Did you hear about Grant Caldwell?"
Cassian frowned. "What about him?"
"He's dead. Murdered, or something. They're not saying much yet."
His gaze darkened. "Shit. I hadn't heard."
Savannah studied him through the screen. His reaction seemed real enough. Grief flickered across his face, then something harder.
"I'm sorry, Sav," he said after a moment. "That's… awful. He was a good man."
She bit her tongue, wanting to ask more, to demand to know what he wasn't saying. But seeing him there, looking like the man she loved, she let it slide.
"Yeah. It's awful," she echoed.
"Listen, I'll call you tonight. I've just gotta get through this stack of contracts first."
"Okay."
The call ended. She set the phone down, picked up her food, and tried to eat.
Hours crawled by. Darkness filled the apartment, and with it came the first call.
An unknown number.
She let it go to voicemail.
Then another.
This time, she answered.
A low, distorted voice crackled through the line.
"Back off, Savannah. Walk away from Cassian. From all of it. Or what happened to Grant will happen to you. You'll regret it for the rest of your short, miserable life."
The line went dead.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. Hands shaking, she stared at the phone, willing it to be a dream.
Then came the email.
Subject: Final Warning.
The message was short. This is your only chance. Walk away.
She could barely breathe.
Her first instinct was to call Cassian, to let him handle it. But what if that made it worse? What if whoever this was would see it as proof she wasn't listening?
Savannah sank onto the couch, head in her hands.
For now, she'd keep it to herself. Just until she could figure out what the hell was happening.