Chapter 15
If Rask had ties to Elias, then protecting a surgeon was easy.
Licenses didn't disappear.
Investigations stalled.
Boards hesitated just long enough for momentum to die.
Elias was a nightmare to every lawyer—
except…
Cassian let the thought trail off. Whatever belonged in that empty space wasn't ready to be named yet.
That was how Kessler stayed in practice. How Morita walked back into an operating room like nothing had happened. Not forgiveness. Not mercy.
Immunity.
—----------------
Cassian parked a street away from the house.
The damage to the car wasn't catastrophic, but it was visible enough that Alicia would ask questions. He wasn't ready for that—not yet. Not before he understood what he was stepping into.
Inside, Alicia listened without interrupting.
When Cassian finally said the name, she didn't react the way people usually did. No flinch. No disbelief. Just a slight narrowing of focus, as if the conversation had finally reached the only part worth having.
"He doesn't forget anything," she said.
She moved to the counter, poured herself a glass of water.
"Not arguments. Not timelines. Not people." She paused, then added, "Especially not people."
Cassian stayed quiet.
"Most lawyers respond," Alicia continued. "They counter. They adapt. Elias doesn't do that." She took a measured sip. "He positions. By the time you realize where you are, the space to move is already gone."
Cassian felt a familiar tension settle in his chest.
"You never feel outplayed," she said. "You feel anticipated."
No case names followed.
No courtroom anecdotes.
Just capability.
She set the glass down.
"Francis used to listen when I talked about cases," Alicia said, almost absently. "That's why I sent him where I did."
A brief pause.
"I suppose I should be glad you're paying attention too," she added, "even if it took different circumstances."
She didn't look at him when she said it.
The conversation ended there—not abruptly, but deliberately. Alicia shifted topics, already elsewhere, the door to that part of her experience closing without ceremony.
Cassian didn't try to reopen it.
He drove away before she could see the car.
The word Twin Dragon surfaced again, scraping against memory.
It had never been Elias alone.
The name itself implied balance. A pair. Two minds moving in parallel.
And that was the part that never fit.
When Alicia's firm collapsed, there had only been one man on the other side of the table.
The other one—the equal, the rumored counterweight—hadn't been there. Not in the firm. Not in the case. Not anywhere Cassian could trace.
The rumor had always been the same.
He'd lost his bar license.
Or quit before it could be taken.
Cassian exhaled slowly.
A two-man legend.
And only one had ever shown up.