'I got called in too late,' he'd said.
'The Vorvolak is growing at an unprecedented speed, it's learning to cover its traces better,' he'd said.
'A new feeding would be the only way to follow a new trail,' he'd said.
Bullshit. It was all bullshit.
Cass's thoughts churned in a furious spiral as she gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles going white. She wasn't angry at Jamee. He had stepped in when no one else could. He was doing his best with what he had, and that's more than most people would have done. No, her anger wasn't for him.
Her anger was for Uriel.
Uriel Serpov, who knew the devil that was plaguing the town and chose to wait. Uriel Serpov, who had a mage on his contact list but chose to sit idly by while people died. Uriel Serpov, who played games with her life, who pushed her buttons, who made her want him when she should have been focused on the town's safety.
Uriel-fucking-Serpov, who made her scream his name one night and now had her storming into his building the next, her blood boiling.
Atlas Holdings loomed before her, its towering, dark windows reflecting nothing but cold indifference. Cass stepped out of her car and tossed her keys to the valet, her movements sharp, her breath coming in quick, furious bursts. The automatic doors slid open as she marched inside, her boots clicking against the polished marble floors with a determined rhythm. She made a beeline for the receptionist, her eyes blazing with an intensity that made the young woman behind the desk shrink back slightly.
"I need to see Uriel Serpov," Cass demanded, her voice low but seething, barely keeping the rage in check.
The receptionist blinked, her professional smile faltering as she glanced down at her computer screen. "Do you have an appointment, ma'am?" she asked, her tone laced with that same polite, corporate detachment Cass had grown to despise.
Cass wasn't in the mood for games. She pulled out her badge—flashing it quickly, just enough to catch the receptionist off guard without giving her time to read the Havenfield Police Department on it—and watched as the woman's eyes widened in alarm.
"O-of course," the receptionist stammered, her fingers tapping frantically on her keyboard. "You can take the elevator to the top floor. Mr. Serpov is in a meeting, but—"
But Cass was already moving, cutting her off with a dismissive wave as she headed for the elevators. The polished metal doors slid shut behind her, and she stood in silence as the elevator hummed its way up to the top floor. She'd agreed to be his submissive and pulled down her pants in Uriel's office. She knew exactly where to go.
The elevator doors opened, and she stepped out into the quiet, luxurious foyer of the executive level. The secretary stationed at the front desk looked up with wide eyes as Cass stormed past, ignoring her protests.
"Hey! You can't go down there!" the secretary called, scrambling to her feet as she rushed after her. "Mr. Serpov is in a meeting!"
Cass didn't slow. She followed the sound of Uriel's voice, deep and smooth, coming from down the hall. The door to Meeting Room 2 was a sturdy, wooden thing, and without hesitation, she pushed it open.
The room fell silent. Several pairs of eyes turned to her, including Uriel's, who stood at the head of the table dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit. His one good eye fixed on her, confusion etching his features as he cut himself off mid-sentence.
"Sladosti?" he said, the word slipping out in a low, questioning tone.
Cass ignored the curious gazes of the men in the room, ignored the tension that rippled through the air as she marched straight up to Uriel. Her voice was low, venomous, as she hissed, "We need to talk."
A low chuckle came from one of the men seated at the table, his voice thick with disdain. "Ey, ey, Serpov. Control your whore."
Laughter rippled through the room. Uriel's face darkened, the confusion in his expression instantly replaced by a cold, simmering fury. In a heartbeat, he grabbed Cass by the arm and pulled her out of the room, dragging her into the hallway with a force that left her breathless.
Once they were alone, the door snapping shut behind them, Uriel turned on her, his hand still gripping her arm tightly as he spat a long string of Russian curses under his breath, his face twisted in anger.
"Glupaya suka. You stupid bitch," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Do you have any idea what you've just interrupted?"
Cass yanked her arm out of his grip, fire burning in her eyes as she shot back, "A meeting with mob bosses who won't suck your dick hard enough for you to finally crack a genuine smile?"
Uriel's eye narrowed, his lips curling into a snarl as he stepped closer, his presence towering over her. He grabbed her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks just enough to make her wince.
Her heart raced, her body tensing under his grip. The heat of his breath against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, and despite the anger burning inside her, she hated how her pulse quickened at his touch. Hated how even now, after everything, a part of her body still craved his control.
"You're lucky it's you who'll be sucking my dick tonight," he hissed, his breath hot against her face, "or I wouldn't be so forgiving. So, what do you want, sladosti? This better be good."
Cass slapped his hand away, her rage bubbling to the surface as she glared up at him, refusing to back down. "Did you know?"
Uriel raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from anger to cold indifference. "Know what?"
"Did you know that wasting time to call in a mage would make it harder to track the Vorvolak?" she demanded, her voice shaking with fury.
Uriel's gaze flicked over her, calculating, detached. "Why does it matter?" he asked, his tone dismissive. "I told you from the start, I don't care about that dinghy town."
He didn't care? He lived in Havenfield now. It was his home too! How could he not care?
The images of bodies flickered in her mind—the blood, the torn flesh, the hollow eyes of victims who had been picked off one by one, each time she arrived too late. Mr. McMicheal. David. Sarah. Their deaths haunted her. They could have been saved, if someone like Uriel had cared earlier.
She had trusted Uriel, believed for one weak moment that there was something in him beyond cold cruelty, beyond his mafia games. How wrong she'd been.
Cass felt like the ground was crumbling beneath her feet. Her blood pounded in her ears as the words hit her, each one like a slap to the face. "Jamee said someone has to die for him to be able to track it now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the revelation sinking in.
Uriel shrugged, his expression unbothered. "To save a thousand, sometimes you have to let a few die."
Cass stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest, disbelief washing over her in waves.
"You don't care about anything, do you?" She hissed, stepping closer. "People are dying, and you're sitting here in your suit, too busy playing god to lift a damn finger. You're nothing but a coward."
Uriel's expression darkened, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing.
Cass's heart pounded in her chest. She could see it now—the cracks in his mask, the frustration brewing beneath the surface. "You pretend to have all this power," she continued, her voice trembling with barely contained rage, "but you won't even use it to save anyone. Because deep down, you're afraid."
"I fear nothing, Ofitser," he snapped, the edge in his tone sharp enough to cut through her. "And I have no duty to pathetic Moonblinds who wouldn't even make a good meal."
The silence between them was taut. Uriel's angry red eye to her hurt green ones. Both their chests heaved in unison, their breaths heavy as they waited to find out who would take the first step.
It was Cass.
"I can't believe I trusted you," her voice splintering.
For a brief moment, something flashed behind Uriel's eye—irritation, frustration—before his face returned to its cold, unreadable mask. His fingers flexed slightly, as if resisting the urge to lash out. Then, his eye darkened, his lip curling in a sneer. "I called in the mage, didn't I? I kept my end of the bargain. If anything, you should be yelling at the good Father James Ashcrotch for being so shit at his job that he can't even do what he was called to do."
Cass's face flushed with anger, but before she could respond, Uriel leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, taunting growl. "And let's not pretend you didn't trust me when you were screaming, 'Please, Master, let me cum.'"
Her face burned with humiliation, her throat tightening as she fought the urge to slap him. He was right. His duty was never to Havenfield; it was to her. Her pleasure. And he had delic on his promise. Her body had surrendered to his touch— the way he'd unraveled her so easily was something she'd never forget. She had handed over pieces of herself to a man who could never understand trust believing he'd do more for her. Do better for her. She'd been delusional. He was a monster, and she'd let him inside her, let him see her vulnerable, let him control her in ways she was now regretting with every fiber of her being.
The regret hurt more than his insult.
"Fuck you, Uriel Serpov," she spat, her voice trembling with anger and shame.
Uriel's gaze flickered with something cold and dangerous, but he said nothing as she turned on her heel and stormed down the hallway, her heart racing, her mind spinning. She could still feel his gaze burning into her back as she walked away, but she didn't stop. She couldn't.
It was her fault for trusting him in the first place.