Chapter 27: The Chains That Bind

  The room felt small now, stifling. He needed to get out, to breathe, but Sky’s presence held him in place, locked in a strange dance where every move felt like a step further into the unknown.

  Cassian swallowed, his voice barely a rasp. "If you know so much about me, Sky, why haven’t you turned me in?"

  Sky leaned back slightly, the grin on his face shifting, growing darker. “Because I’m not stupid, brother. I know what you are. I’ve always known." His eyes flicked toward the window, as if contemplating something far beyond the walls of the room.

  “You’re not the monster everyone thinks you are. You’re something worse. Something more... dangerous."

  Cassian’s heart skipped a beat.

  Was this some kind of twisted game? Or was it the truth?

  He stared at Sky, unsure of what to believe anymore. He had always been good at reading people, at understanding their fears, their desires, their weaknesses. But Sky... Sky was different. The boy seemed to see past every mask, every lie.

  “Then why?” Cassian breathed out, his voice a hushed murmur. “Why do you trust me?”

  Sky’s smile never faltered, and in his eyes—those deep, unsettling eyes—Cassian saw something that made his blood run colder than before.

  “Because you’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

  Cassian’s breath caught in his throat.

  For a moment—just a fleeting moment—his body went rigid, his mind grasping for an answer that made sense. But there was none. Sky’s words hung in the air, weighty despite the playful lilt in his voice. Because you’re mine. You’ve always been mine, Cassian. Cassian’s fingers twitched at his sides, but he kept his expression impassive, forcing his body to remain still.

  “…What?” His voice came out quieter than he intended, but the tension in the room thickened like a blade pressing against flesh.

  Then, Sky giggled. “Just kidding, brother!” His lips curled into an impish grin, tilting his head playfully. “It was a line I heard in a drama.”

  Cassian exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax, though his muscles remained coiled beneath his skin. A joke. A stupid, ridiculous joke. And yet— Why did it feel like it wasn’t? Cassian studied Sky, but the boy had already turned away, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, humming a light tune as if the last few moments had never happened. His little hands played with the frayed ends of a pillow, seemingly lost in his own world.

  But Cassian knew better.

  Sky was watching.

  Even when he pretended not to be, even when he played the role of an innocent child—he was watching. Calculating.

  Cassian let out a quiet chuckle, low and unreadable, before stepping toward the dresser, where a small glass decanter of water sat. He poured himself a drink, letting the cool liquid coat his throat as he gathered his thoughts. If Sky was testing him, then Cassian had already given away too much. He set the glass down with a quiet clink.

  "Careful with your jokes, Sky,” he murmured. “You never know when someone might take them seriously.”

  Sky turned, tilting his head with exaggerated innocence. “Oh? But I thought you liked games, brother.”

  Cassian’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Only when I know the rules.”

  Sky’s eyes gleamed, amusement dancing within them. “Then maybe you should learn faster.”

  There it was again. That edge.

  That subtle, teasing threat wrapped in the warmth of a child’s voice.

  Cassian resisted the urge to sigh.

  Instead, he turned toward the window, gazing out into the darkened sky. The estate was quiet, the city beyond shrouded in its usual hum of distant life. Somewhere out there, Raiden Nightshade was hunting him. Somewhere, the government still whispered his name, attaching numbers to his life as if he were a thing to be claimed.

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  And here, in the halls of Cassian Starfall’s estate, was a boy who saw straight through him.

  Who had known all along.

  Cassian flexed his fingers, the weight of the name he had stolen settling onto his shoulders like a second skin.

  The game had already begun.

  And Sky was waiting to see how he would play it. Cassian stood by the window, watching the night stretch endlessly beyond the estate walls. The city murmured in the distance, an ever-present hum of life, unaware—uncaring—that somewhere within it, Raiden Nightshade was hunting him. That the government still whispered his name, not as a person, but as a prize. Fifty thousand gold. That was his worth now. And behind him, sitting innocently on a bed too large for his small frame, was a boy who had known his truth all along.

  Cassian flexed his fingers against the windowsill, the weight of the stolen name pressing against him like a second skin. The game had already begun.

  And Sky was waiting to see how he would play it.

  Cassian exhaled, closing his eyes briefly. Where the hell have I gotten myself into? This family was not normal.

  First, the files in Cassian Starfall’s desk—the ones that detailed his "work" with a cold, systematic precision. The real Cassian had been a psychopath. And Sky…

  He knew.

  Who he was. What he had done.

  And worst of all—he had said nothing.

  Cassian turned slightly, eyeing the boy carefully. “How did you find out?”

  Sky giggled, swinging his legs. “You’ve been thinking about that for a while, haven’t you?” His voice was light, playful, but his eyes gleamed. “It’s not that hard to figure out, brother.”

  Cassian remained silent.

  Sky sighed dramatically. “Remember that old, run-down house? The one where you turned on the TV to check how much trouble you were in?” He tilted his head. “You weren’t exactly quiet. I heard everything from my room.”

  Cassian’s fingers twitched against the windowsill.

  That’s all it took?

  One slip. One moment of carelessness.

  That was it.

  Cassian had spent his life slipping through the cracks of the world, surviving on instinct, on caution. And yet, a child had unraveled him in a matter of days.

  Sky giggled again, soft and airy. “You look tense, brother. Are you nervous?”

  Cassian forced a smirk, tilting his head slightly. “Should I be?”

  Sky hummed, resting his chin on his palm. “Not really. I could have told Vera. Or Malcolm. Or even Aldric.” He smiled, bright and guileless. “But I didn’t.”

  Cassian studied him. “Why?”

  Sky’s smile never wavered with a chuckle “Because you’re mine, brother”

  The air in the room tightened.

  Cassian’s pulse slowed, his mind catching—stuttering—on the weight of those words.

  Not again.

  Not that phrase again.

  Sky blinked, then let out a laugh. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, brother! I told you, it’s just something I heard in a drama.”

  Cassian exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “You should stop watching those kinds of dramas,” he muttered, turning to face the boy fully. “They’re making you weird.”

  Sky only grinned, utterly unbothered. “really?.”

  Cassian sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Alright. Let’s say I believe you. You heard the news, put the pieces together, and somehow kept your mouth shut this whole time. Why?”

  Sky blinked up at him, as if the question was ridiculous. “Because you’re my brother.”

  Cassian scoffed. “That’s not an answer.”

  Sky huffed, crossing his arms. “It is an answer. You just don’t get it yet.”

  Cassian narrowed his eyes. “Then help me understand.”

  Sky watched him, expression unreadable.

  Then, slowly, he slid off the bed and walked to Cassian’s side, his small hands tugging at the hem of Cassian’s sleeve.

  “You’re pretending, right?” Sky’s voice was quiet. “Pretending to be him.”

  Cassian held still.

  Sky’s fingers tightened, just slightly.

  “But you don’t feel like him,” he continued. “Even if you look the same, even if you act the same… you’re different.”

  Cassian clenched his jaw. “And you’re fine with that?”

  Sky’s expression softened—almost fond. “Of course. He scared me.”

  Cassian’s breath caught.

  It was the first time Sky had acknowledged it outright. The first time he had spoken of the real Cassian Starfall not as a lost brother, but as something else entirely.

  Something terrifying.

  Something he had been relieved to lose.

  Cassian slowly exhaled. “…I see.”

  Sky grinned again, back to his usual self. “So, you see? I don’t need to tell anyone. Because the way I see it…” He tilted his head. “I traded one brother for another.”

  Cassian let out a dry laugh. “That’s not exactly comforting, kid.”

  Sky shrugged, unfazed. “Doesn’t have to be.”

  Cassian studied him for a long moment.

  This child…

  He was something else.

  Not a puppet.

  Not a fool.

  But a player.

  And Cassian?

  He wasn’t sure if he was the puppet or the one holding the strings anymore.