"She's dead."

Dead. Evelyn Leveque. The woman who breathed light into my world when all New Aberdeen gave me was a pillar of darkness. She became a second heartbeat, a second life when I found myself giving up.

Dead.

"That's not possible," because it's not. "She was here yesterday. I talked to her... she was going to the board meeting at the new research centre. You saw her—"

"I saw her die," Cato interjects. "That's what happened at the board meeting."

Through my blurred tear-rimmed vision, I meet the fractured grassy forests that belong to Cato's irises. He tries to hold back, but he too disintegrates inside. The shards of his heart shatter like glass, and with every passing minute I feel the sharp edges cut against my own.

Dead.

All those times Evelyn snuck me into her office to confide in me about her rocky relationship with Audwin, about how she fears he'll send her away from the estate, about Cato, about her duties, about everything—gone. The protection she gave me, her watchful eyes a shield around my being—gone.

As a child, she was the one who would tuck me in and sing me lullabies, before she would go and tuck in Cato. She was the one who gave me honesty about the world, and about how my mother's reputation could never impact who I was.

I owe my life to her.

A sob breaks from my lungs. I'm exposed to him, my emotions splayed across Evelyn's old office, as my world collapses. I try to hold on, to grip whatever light Evelyn left behind, but instead, her son stands in her place.

Cato's mood shifts, his expression becoming uneasy. "Maureen," his voice mumbles, low and calculated. "She died this morning at the hospital, and I remembered that you work there. My mother told me, so I went to find you." Those green eyes flash. "You weren't there. I was told you quit months ago."

I feel the world closing its walls on me, and where's my escape? Cato? Thomas? Evelyn?

"You know, I've done my research, and I know where you ran off to," Cato's jaw ticks. "Who you ran with."

I swallow.

"Thomas Smyth," Cato drags on, his voice deep and edging on a predatory growl. "From what I've learned, he's not favoured well with law enforcement, but never a target. He owns more than what he lets on—a whole fucking street near the centre of the city. Nothing high class, though. Nothing like what you're used too." He looks up at me, his gaze curious. "So why him?"

"You have to understand that it's better this way," I whisper. "I was nothing at the hospital, like I was just another bloody corpse that they had to discard."

"You have no idea what Thomas does, do you?"

"And you do?"

Cato runs a hand through his chestnut hair as the question spears me against the door. How does Cato know? But the question is only short-lived as feelings of a bitter heat swell in the pit of my stomach. There's no trust between Cato and I, nothing like what we had as children. In fact, there's so little of it that he had to pry into Thomas' background.

I straighten my back. "I know what Thomas does, and I know what I'm getting myself into. Not even you can convince me otherwise."

This breaks him, and I find myself pinned against the closed door with his chest against mine. His rampant heartbeat thumps in his chest like a scarred rabbit. His green eyes burn brighter than the sun, blazing, heat scorching and gaze ravenous.

"You're in a mess, Maureen," he whispers, each word a harsh slap to the cheek. "Everything Thomas has told you is a fucking lie. I bet you went back to him today and discovered he was shot, yeah?"

My heart pounds against my ribs from the intensity of Cato's proximity.

"Evelyn and I weren't the only ones in attendance. So was he."

"That's not true," I grit. "Thomas hates the research centre, so there's no reason for him to be there."

Cato winces as I speak this, almost hurt that I don't believe a word he says. "You're so naïve sometimes, I swear."

"And you refuse to look down to Earth to believe me," I snap back. "You always got your head up in the stars, not caring if you hurt anyone down below."

"This isn't about me!" he bellows, his voice breaking. Tears cut down his cheeks. "Thomas killed my mother! I don't know what he's told you about his operation, but I know it's not something you'd join willingly."

I push Cato's chest. No. This can't be true. None of it is. "He killed no one!"

"Then go to him," Cato seethes. "Ask him what the fuck he does! It's all lies, Maureen! All of it!"

A business. Confidentiality. The distractions.

"The officers almost got him too," Cato mutters. "Shot him with a bullet before his men killed them."

I shake my head. "Thomas isn't like that..." but the first inklings of doubt creep up on me, and I know Cato hears it in my voice.

It was never laid out in front of me. I thought the small glimpses of Thomas' business would allow me to see the bigger picture, but he only allowed me to see what he wanted. Just small fractions of the truth. He kept me hidden from the monstrous world beyond his apartment. He was a man so tainted by the evils of the world, and so he tried to keep the good and bad separated. He tried to keep his precious daffodil safe, sound, untouched.

The truth is so small now. The rest?

Lies.

What if everything he did was just a way to steer me away from knowing his true self? Every 'daffodil' rerouted my focus to him and those tantalizing blue eyes, rather than the shadows inhabiting his soul? He begged me to stay, and for what? To have control over what I knew? That he would make sure I never found out about the truth of his operations? That I would never come face-to-face with the blood on his hands?

I gasp as my knees buckle beneath me, but I never hit the ground. Cato's arms lace around me, holding me against his stable presence. I sob into his shirt, wanting to wash my hands to rid myself of the remnants of Thomas.

"It's not true," I cry, but those green eyes tell all.

This isn't a silly misconception.

The two people I trusted most in this world suddenly feel ripped away from me. Evelyn's dead, and there's no way to rewind time and bring her back. My mother. My backbone. Gone.

And Thomas? Gods, Thomas. He killed her. For what reason did he have? The tensions between Thomas and the wealthy always remained high, but it was never great enough to snap a cord. If anything, Evelyn was evidence that there are some who do care about life in the bottom tiers, that there is still hope for the damned.

Nauseatingly, Thomas admitted to me earlier in the day that he loved me. Maybe it was out of desperation, or fear of me finding out the truth before my return. It sickens me that I almost mimicked those three words back. If I had fallen into his arms and stayed like he yearned for me to do, I'd never be here.

I'd never know that he was the reason Evelyn Leveque met her downfall.

But what I fear is that his confession of love is nothing but a lie.

Cato brings me over to his mother's office chair, taking a seat on the cushions before tighting his hold around me. salty droplets that fall down my cheeks absorb into the fabric of his white collared shirt. And Cato? He lets his own tears cascade down his cheeks, falling victim to the empty hole plowed through is heart. His facial features twist in agony, tears matting my golden blonde waves.

Cato loved Evelyn, and oh gods, Evelyn loved Cato. Cato and I, although not related at all, she was our mother, a light in the world that somehow shone brighter everyday.

A light that has been burnt out.

Now, the estate remains darker, duller, desaturated.

Cato's fingers stroke delicate designs down my arm as he lifts his tear-stained cheeks from my hair. "This is why I came to find you."

"Hmm?"

"In the hospital, after she died," he continues. "I didn't know what to do. You were my coping mechanism before, and everything in my life had just been going according to plan..."

He hesitates to speak as he sniffles, snot chortling. Cato's raw with sorrow, and although he finds himself on the brink of devastation, he's never been more beautiful. There's something ethereal about seeing this man of courage and prowess crumble. The whole of him is enchanting, but the pieces—each individual shard—are what truly draws me in to Cato's allure.

"What am I kidding," he mutters under his breath. "Shit hit the fan so many times when I was at the academy or on expeditions. I can count the times on my fingers when I was fucking panicked. I thought of you then. All I wanted to do was find you, to hold you."

My thumb traces against a wrinkle in his button-down shirt, following the crease down his chest. "You have no idea how many times I cried myself to sleep, wishing you were here."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I just... I had to go."

"I know," I breathe into his shirt. Look at what he's accomplished in six years. He was my entire world before, but now he's created a whole universe for himself.

He hums and nestles his cheeks back into my hair. He exhales, his breath still shaking. "I dismissed everyone from housework for the day."

"You did?" I mutter.

"I told my dad I'd take over mum's job for awhile until we hire a replacement," Cato confesses. "I'll just start doing research here instead."

"Can you talk to me about your research?" Despite the hole in his heart from Evelyn's death, I feel his lips curve into a soft smile. "I can't think straight right now."

"I thought you would prefer to reminisce," he mutters.

"No, I just need something mundane," I flatten a wrinkle in his shirt. "I just need you to take me to your world in the skies for a moment."

Cato nods his head in agreement, seeking the same escape from reality.

Cato and I talk for hours as if he never left the estate. All the tensions between us about Thomas and Gemma and Evelyn and everything seem eons away. Our planets and stars align for us as we laugh at old jokes. He shares his adventures across the galaxies, about the discoveries they found and the data they collected.

He tells me that I'd love it up there, and that he promises to bring me up to the stars, because to him, I belong up there as well.

I wake up to Cato lightly shaking my shoulder. He kisses my temple. "Was I that boring that you fell asleep?"

I blush and scan the room for a time, only to bring out a low warm chuckle from Cato.

"It's okay," he whispers as his arms tighten around me. "I got you."

I slump my head against Cato's shoulder as he stands up from his mother's office chair. He's the only movement in the stillness of the estate as he carries me up the stairwell.

Cato. I just can't believe that this is all real, and I'm thankful that he's here when the world goes into chaos. Evelyn died. Thomas betrayed me. And Cato's here to collect the pieces of me that fall apart, just like he did when we were children.

He lays me on the quits of my bed before turning to leave. He must remember what I told him last time he came in here: to leave me alone.

"Cato," I call out.

He stops in the doorway. "Yes?"

"Can you stay?"

He bashfully stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Last time I tried to stay, you kicked me out of here."

"Can you stay?" I ask again, my voice revealing my fear, my anxiety, my desperation.

Cato steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. I shift over in the bed to make room for his large, muscular body, so unlike the scrawny Cato that used to lie here before.

He kicks off his shoes and rolls over, draping his arm over my waist. "May I?" he asks.

I nod as he settles himself against me, our bodies bound. Against me, he relaxes, and so do I, our bodies moulding together as if to mend each other's brokenness. This feeling between us brings a comfort that no one else can bring, not even Thomas can compare to the childhood blissful solace I feel against Cato.

That night, I distract myself with thoughts of Cato to ease my mind away from the dark truth about Thomas, and the shadow of Evelyn's death.

And the next morning as I wake up beside Cato still dressed in wrinkled clothes, I decide to stay at the estate rather than to go to Thomas' car.

I'm safe with Cato. Safe in his arms.

I thought I was safe with Thomas too, despite his flaws. The truth is that Thomas was always too dangerous for a servant like me.

Because when you play with fire, you're bound to get burned.

── •✧• ──

Do you think Thomas will ever redeem himself? For now, let's indulge in Cato for awhile.

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Updated November 19, 2022.