Cassian sat alone at the long table, the rooftop of a three-star Michelin restaurant emptied of staff and sound at his request. Wind curled lazily around the glass barriers, carrying the distant hum of the city far below. The skyline glittered, indifferent and alive, beautiful in the way only things untouched by consequence could be.
Two plates of steak sat on the table. One was untouched, the fat congealing slightly at the edges. The other was already half gone, drizzling in juice.
Cassian lifted his glass of red wine and turned it slowly, watching the liquid cling to the crystal. It was blood-dark, almost black in the low lighting. He took a measured sip, letting it linger on his tongue, grounding himself in the bitterness.
Across from him, Liam chewed with obvious appreciation, as though this were nothing more than a casual dinner between brothers who had not been circling each other like wolves for years.
