Rosalia — POV
At first, when Cassel grabbed me and said he wanted to talk, I thought he was merely uncomfortable—uneasy because I had hidden too many things from him, because I knew Matthew, because I had screamed Matthew's name earlier without thinking.
I assumed that was all.
I assumed he wanted to question me again, to press me about how I knew Matthew, to demand answers I was already exhausted from avoiding.
But I was wrong.
So terribly wrong.
One mome. After all, trapped between desire and love, my body burning where Cassel's arms held me, his grip tight and possessive, pulling me flush against him as though afraid I might disappear if he loosened his hold even slightly.
And the very next moment—
I was dragged into a frozen world of piercing cold and suffocating fear.
All because of one question.
A single sentence from Cassel's lips was enough to shatter everything.
I wanted to act foolishly.
I wanted to pretend I didn't understand what he meant.
