Janet ran faster than she ever had to stay ahead of the shadows chasing her, ahead of him. She needed to escape his torturous hands, manipulative tongue, and his predatory stares.
A small silhouette appeared in the distance —a little girl. Janet knew who it was. She only prayed to reach her before he did. Her legs plumped harder, but somehow she was slowing down. The world tilted and suddenly she was moving backward—straight into his waiting arms.
To her horror, the little girl's silhouette was being pulled towards him, like the darkness was swallowing them both. She turned— and met him face to face. But it wasn't him.
It was Cas.
She tried to scream, but no sound came. He pressed a finger to his lips, motioning for her to shush. Janet struggled, gasping for air—then her eyes flew open.
Cas was in her bed.
His hand covered her mouth. His finger was on his lips—just like the dream.
She nodded, terrified. He slowly released her mouth and whispered against her ear, "There are people in the house."
A cold wave of fear gripped her. Cas rose from the bed, gun in both hands, moving silently toward the door. He nodded toward the wardrobe, signaling to her to get dressed.
Janet forced herself to move. Her hands shook but she slipped into a flower-patterned romper—the first thing she grabbed. There was no time to be shy, not after last night.
She looked at him with a now what? Stare. He tilted his head toward the bed. That's when she noticed the black glint of metal lying there—a gun.
Footsteps echoed faintly beyond the room. Someone was trying to move quietly. Janet crawled, heart hammering, and grabbed the weapon.
Cas met her eyes, mouthing: "READY?"
Huh! She froze. Ready? For this? But when she saw the steady look in his eyes, she nodded.
Janet fumbled for her glasses, pushed them into her face, and joined him at the door. Cas cracked it open, peeping into the hallway. He motioned for her to take a position behind him.
Their backs brushed as she turned to face the opposite direction, her gun trembling in her grip.
A shadow moved—someone in all black, mask on, gun raised. Janet fired before she could think.
The man groaned, clutching his side.
Cas spun around, covering her, but she was already shaking, tears burning in her eyes.
Did I just kill someone?
"Get it together." Cas hissed, "It was either you or him, and we both know who deserves to walk out alive. Stay with me."
Another gunshot cracked through the room. Janet screamed. Cas fired back—one clean shot, the second man dropped.
"Janet—run!" he ordered. "Get to your car, keys in the back of my pocket."
She thought she could handle it, but her body trembled from head to toe. Cas stayed in position, arms locked, still aiming at the spot where the two men lay.
She didn't know if they were dead, and that uncertainty terrified her more. She reached for the keys in his pocket, snatched the keys, and crept toward the living room. Every sound felt like thunder.
She got to the garage, jumped into the driver's seat, and started the car. For a moment she almost turned back. But then decided against it when she saw Cas burst through the doorway, sprinting towards her.
She slammed the car into reverse, skidding out of the garage, honestly the fastest she had ever driven in the last couple of years. Luckily for her, it stopped right in front of Cas. He dived into the passenger seat, then she spun the wheel and sped down the street.
In the rearview mirror, six or seven men emerged from the shadows of her house.
It was an ambush.
But somehow—they'd escaped.
* *
Cas knew she was terrified from the way she gripped the steering wheel, too terrified to say a word, but terrified didn't mean innocent. He scoffed within himself. Terror had a way of loosening tongues and tonight, he was going to make her talk.
He directed her to his hotel, one of many, where his men were stationed, just in case the ones who'd ambushed them decided to follow.
Max appeared almost instantly when they pulled in. Cas ordered him to clear the penthouse suite. Within minutes, the order was done.
Janet's eyes wandered, around the hotel reception. She had taken off her glasses. She looked a mess, but somehow even more beautiful. The romper she wore revealed too much skin for a woman who just escaped her situation, though he doubted she'd done it on purpose.
The receptionist, dressed in a fitted red skirt suit, approached them.
"Sir. The penthouse suite is ready."
Cas nodded, rising. Janet looked calmer now, though the tremor hadn't left her eyes. They took the elevator up— smooth, silent—to the last floor.
Then stepped into the penthouse suite, the soft glow of amber lights washing over polished marble and dark walnut panels. The marble floors reflected the city lights streaming in through the glass walls, the same city that tried to break him.
He'd designed everything here to speak of precision and quiet power. The bed dominated the far end of the room—massive, low, draped in black silk sheets that shimmered faintly under the city light. It was built for control, for escape, for those rare nights he allowed himself to forget the chaos outside.
A dark walnut dining table sat near the window, with only two chairs. The mini bar in the corner gleamed under soft light, and beside it, the fridge hummed quietly—its compartment glowing with different hues, rows of imported wine and bottled water arranged with military precision.
Janet didn't move. Cas dropped the guns on the table, then sat on the bed, hoping to rest before dawn. When she turned toward the dinner table, his voice stopped her,
"Come here."
She froze.
"I'm okay over…" she started saying
"Come here, Janet." His tone cut through the air, "You're a big girl, you know you're in trouble."
"I didn't know them. I swear."
Cas gave her one of his firm, unreadable stares. She hesitated, then moved toward him, standing right in front of where he sat on the bed, eyes avoiding his.
"Who is HENNEDY to you?" he asked, voice low and steady. He studied her face carefully. Any twitch. Any lie.
"I—can't tell you that." She whispered.
Cas fell silent for a moment.
* *
His voice came, almost immediately after the awkward silence. Low, cold.
"Take off your clothes."
Janet's eyes widened, why would he…
He didn't soften "I'm not going to say it twice. The next time I'll strip you myself."
She stepped back two shaky paces searching for a way out. Cas kept his gaze on her, his eyes promising his unpredictability. Her eyes caught the bathroom door—too far across the suite but maybe long enough to make a call.
Cas read her plan in a heartbeat. He rose, quiet and deliberate.
She ducked under his grab trying to bolt. Cas slammed her onto the bed, his movements so fast she hadn't even noticed him picking her up.
He pounced on top of her almost immediately,
"What did I tell you when you brought me into your wild goose chase?"
He tore the top of her romper, her breasts slipped free, soft and trembling against the cold air. "I am your lord. You have personal secrets that are putting me in danger and I demand answers."
She curled her arms around her chest automatically but he grabbed both with one arm pinning them above her head. Tightening his grip till she hissed.
She whimpered, thrashing around. She would try to kick him but he held her knee in his position on top of her. She whined, "Please…Cas."
He smirked, "You take me for a fool, lawyer." He tore off the lower part of her romper, leaving her stark naked. Tears formed in her eyes, she was genuinely scared of him, scared of the secrets he would make her spill.
Cas spun her around, her butt up and chest flat on the bed. He pinned both her hands again above her head, then he gripped one of her bare cheeks, squeezing it enough to hurt. She winced, "Cas, what are you…"
A loud smack across her buttocks, she screamed, it actually stung like crazy.
"No! No!" she cried, trying to kick free, but his grip was iron. In her twenty-seven years of living, she had never felt pain like this. She wasn't gonna last this torture!
Her tears poured out as she cried soaking the bed. Humiliated the more because of Cas seeing her this vulnerable, being the one breaking her.
His voice hoarse and low, he asked. "Who is HENNEDY to you?"
"Please, Cas you don't have to do this. I don't know those people."
She felt another smack, she screamed, the sting times two the first one.
She cried, "You have no right to do this to me, this is unfair."
"I got betrayed by my own friend, my brother. We've been together since we were children. I thought that bond was worth every drop of blood and sweat I shed these past 35 years. Turns out it was built on lies… pain and betrayal."
He leaned in close enough that she could smell the sharp tang of his cologne,
"You might be no different. Janet. A trap to further let my guard down. I will smack your buttocks till you feel the sting of my palm beyond the skin on the surface, if you do not tell me who HENNEDY is to you."
"Please, Cas. I beg you."
Another smack. She screamed into the bed, gasping for breath. Then she blurted, "He's my ex-husband!"
He froze, probably in shock. She felt him let go as she crawled to the other side of the bed, wincing as the pain throbbed in her stinging butt. She pulled the silk sheets tightly around her, avoiding his gaze.
His stare fixed on her.
"Were you aware all along that you were married to him?"
Janet couldn't stop her tears. A sharp pang of guilt stabbed her heart. She shook her head. "I was ignorant…young…naive. I thought he loved me." she murmured, "But it's still my fault."
Cas's voice hardened. " So tell me, Janet. Who the hell is HENNEDY?"
Her breath hitched. Silence. Then she whispered, trembling,
"HENNEDY is the governor's son…Caleb Prescott."