Cass sat at her desk, staring at the same paperwork she'd been trying to process for the past hour. The words blurred together, each sentence melting into the next, forming an incoherent mess that she couldn't focus on. Her body felt heavy, her mind dulled, like the air around her was thick, pressing in on her from all sides. Every sound in the precinct—phones ringing, footsteps echoing, muffled conversations—was grating, cutting into her thoughts, splintering her focus.
She wasn't supposed to be here.
That thought had been whispering at the back of her mind since she'd walked in that morning. She wasn't supposed to be here, doing paperwork, pretending like everything was normal. Like her world hadn't completely tilted off its axis.
But what else was she supposed to do?
Her fingers tightened around the pen in her hand. The Vorvolak was still out there. She could feel it. Her reckless shooting and holy grenade throwing wasn't enough to kill it. They still hadn't found the person that summoned it in the first place, and here she was, pretending to be an officer of the law when she knew damn well that the law wouldn't stop it.
It wasn't something she could lock up or interrogate. It wasn't like Ndibisi could take its testimony.
The sound of her name snapped her from her thoughts, her body jerking slightly in her seat. Chief Laughlin stood in the doorway to her office, his eyes on her, his brow furrowed.
"Detective Pratt. A word," he said, his voice carrying a subtle drawl that he always had, a Southern lilt that softened the edges of his words. There was no mistaking the authority behind them, though. This wasn't a casual chat. This was business.
Cass felt a pit open in her stomach as she pushed back from her desk, her legs heavy as she crossed the room. She already knew what was coming, and she hated that her body was betraying her—tensing like a dog about to be scolded. She was a damn detective, for fuck's sake. But as soon as she stepped inside Chief Laughlin's office, she felt small. Smaller than she'd felt in weeks.
Laughlin gestured toward the chair across from him, the wooden frame creaking as she sat down. He took a seat behind his desk, looking her over for a moment. His pale blue eyes—the kind that had seen too many years in law enforcement—narrowed slightly as if assessing her.
"You been doin' alright, Cass?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, his drawl slower now, less sharp.
Cass blinked at him, her throat dry. "Yeah. I'm fine," she lied, the words falling flat between them.
He didn't buy it.
Chief Laughlin let out a slow breath, his fingers tapping against the desk. "Cass, we both know that's bullshit." His voice wasn't angry—more disappointed. And for some reason, that made it worse. "You've been movin' around this precinct like a damn zombie the last few days. I've watched you drift in and out, barely keepin' your head above water."
Cass shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her pulse quickening. She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that she was handling it, that she just needed more time—but the words stuck in her throat.
He didn't give her the chance to speak anyway. "I warned you about this," he continued, his voice even but firm. "I told you that you were pushin' yourself too damn hard. That you were gonna burn out."
Cass clenched her fists in her lap. She couldn't argue with him because he was right. He'd warned her, and she'd ignored him. She'd thought she could handle it. She'd thought she had no other choice. But now?
Now she was unraveling.
"You're not doin' yourself or anyone else any favors by stayin' here when you're like this," Chief Laughlin said, his eyes steady on her. "I know you want to be out there, workin' the case, but right now, you're a liability."
Cass's heart sank, and a sharp pang of guilt twisted in her chest. She should've known this was coming. Hell, part of her had seen it coming from a mile away. But hearing it—hearing him say that she was a liability—still felt like a punch to the gut.
"I'm taking you off the case," he said, his voice final. "And I'm puttin' you on suspension, effective immediately."
Cass felt the air leave her lungs. Her stomach dropped, and the room seemed to spin around her for a moment. "Suspended?" she echoed, her voice hollow. "But I—"
Laughlin held up a hand, cutting her off. "I've already assigned your replacement. And no, it ain't negotiable. I've been watchin' you, Cass. You're not okay." His gaze softened just a little. "This is me givin' you a chance to rest. Think of it as cashin' in all those sick leaves you never took."
Cass shook her head, her voice catching in her throat. "But Chief, I— I have to— I can still—"
"No," he said firmly. "You need to take care of yourself. You keep pushin' like this, and you're gonna end up hurt—or worse, get someone else hurt."
Cass wanted to scoff. Like someone else getting hurt hadn't already happened.
His words pressed down on her like a milestone on her chest, and for the first time, Cass realized just how exhausted she really was. She felt like she was underwater, her limbs heavy, her mind foggy. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd gotten a full night's sleep.
But the thought of stepping away, of leaving these three murder cases on her desk behind—it felt wrong. Even though she knew what was behind it. Even though she knew her solutions weren't in this building. It still felt like failure.
"There's still a killer out there," Cass whispered, her voice barely audible.
"I know," Chief Laughlin said quietly. "And we'll catch 'em. But right now, you're not the one who's gonna do it."
His words stung. They stung even more knowing that 'we'll catch 'em' was a statement made in ignorance. It would never happen.
This wasn't just about being pulled off the case. It was the sinking realization that the case was out of everyone's hands—everyone except hers. Chief Laughlin didn't know the real killer, didn't know what lurked in the shadows. And even if he did, he wouldn't be able to do anything. He didn't wield magic. He didn't have the resources.
Jamee was right. It was up to them to stop the Vorlak because they— he was the only one who could. Because, even without the reward, fame or fortune, it was the right thing to do.
Cass slumped in her chair, her shoulders sagging under the weight of defeat. She felt like she was treading water, barely keeping her head above the surface. And now, it felt like someone had tied weights to her ankles, dragging her down.
Laughlin stood, walking around his desk to stand beside her. His hand rested on her shoulder, the gesture fatherly, despite the professionalism of the moment. "Go home, Cass," he said softly. "Get some rest. You've earned it."
Cass nodded, even though she knew rest was the last thing she would find.
☼
Cass didn't remember driving home. The entire trip was a blur—empty streets, a sky that felt like it was closing in on her, the rumble of the car engine that did nothing to drown out the thoughts swirling in her head.
When she pulled into the driveway, the house was just as she had left it. It felt distant, like a place she barely recognized.
Inside, her father was sitting in his favorite chair, the glow of the television casting shadows across his face. Peppercorn was curled up on his lap, purring contentedly.
"Hey, Dad," she greeted, carefully.
She hadn't been spending most of her time at home. Her time was divided between staring at the ceiling from the soft mattress in Uriel's guest room, sitting by Jamee's bedside and work. Surely, he must have noticed her absence.
But, judging by the silence that answered her, he just didn't care.
Cass swallowed down the bitterness rising in the back of her throat, the feeling like lava in her esophagus.
And, just like lava, it was impossible to keep in. She erupted.
"You can't ignore me forever!" She spat.
He flinched and the cat jerked awake, letting out a discontent yowl.
But now that she'd started speaking, she couldn't stop. "Are you so selfish that you didn't think about how your actions affect me? Your daughter?" Her sinuses burned but she was not going to cry. Not here. Not in front of him. "We lost mom but I lost you too!"
She stood in the doorway, watching them—her father, Peppercorn—living their quiet, simple life. Enjoying the comfort of the house that would have been more of a home if his grief was not constantly suffocating her and his silence was not so loud.
"Do you even remember the man you used to be? The man who stayed up all night helping me finish a school project, or held me after every scraped knee? You're not even a ghost of him, you're... you're nothing."
Her father didn't not respond. As always, he didn't respond. Perhaps in the many years of ignoring her, he had genuinely forgotten how to interact with her. Forgotten that he was the same man who'd sat in on the tea parties she had with her stuffed animals, doing silly voices for each of them.
His presence in her house felt foreign. Like he was some stranger who'd branched off the street and walked into her house. To be fair, she felt the same. Foreign. Like a ghost drifting through the house, not quite touching anything, not quite part of anything.
"I'm leaving," she said. He didn't need an explanation on how lost she felt. How disconnected. She didn't belong here, not anymore. "I'll have groceries sent over on Saturday."
He grunted a sound that may have been a 'okay' or a 'whatever' but ultimately wasn't a word.
Cass stood there for a moment longer, a hollow feeling growing in her chest. There was nothing for her here. No comfort. No escape. She couldn't stay. Not with her thoughts circling like vultures, picking at her, gnawing at her insides.
She needed to get away.
Without a word, she turned and left the house, the door clicking shut softly behind her. She didn't know where she was going at first, but her body did. There was only one place it would take her when the world felt like it was falling apart.
☼
Uriel's mansion loomed in front of her, cold and imposing, the gates sliding open as she approached. She didn't know what instructions he had given his guards but they didn't ID her at the gate anymore. She parked and walked to the front door, her steps slow, deliberate. With every step, her pulse quickened, her breath coming a little faster.
Her heart pounded in her chest, not with fear, but with anticipation.
She opened the door and walked in, just like she'd been doing for the past few days and, as usual, the mansion was eerily quiet. Up the stairs, down the hall to the left, Jamee was still in his death-like sleep, the door next to that was the guest room Uriel was letting her use. Uriel himself had been scarce over the past few days. He'd come to check on Jamee's progress once or twice a day before disappearing, usually with his phone pressed to his ear. It was a big house and she had no idea where he was. But she knew how to find him.
Taking a deep breath, she allowed her senses to fully open up to the world around her; the scents of cleaning products beneath the citrus air freshener that wafted steadily through the mansion, the clarity of being able to see with her full vision and the sound of angry, hushed conversation reaching her ears.
She followed that sound, past the grand staircase in the foyer and towards the back of the house. It led her to a large, empty room; the walls a similar dark marble and white trim to the rest of the house. As she walked through, a part of her realized how, despite the fact that she had never been around the entire building, it still felt familiar. More familiar than her own home. More welcoming. She didn't belong in that house with her father's silence anymore. Here, at least, the silence didn't feel as lonely.
Her legs carried her to the door at the end of the room and, when she pushed it open, she found herself outside on the back porch. The polished dark wood deck and white square columns opened up to an expansive back garden interlaid with porcelain tile flooring leading to a patio.
It looked nice but Cass wasn't there to marvel at the architecture.
Pacing in the middle of the patio was Uriel, his phone pressed to his ear, his eyebrows dipped in a frown that only his right eye could display.
"Did they check?" He was asking, his voice low and angry. "Yebat! If he doesn't take the money then you know what to do." A pause. Then, "Did I fucking stutter? I said—"
Uriel paused as he looked up to see Cass approaching him. His sharp gaze flicked over her, the anger giving way to confusion and the confusion giving way to admiration.
The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, like he knew why she had come. "I'll call you back, Arian," he said, cutting the call short. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and waited as she closed the distance between them.
Cass didn't need to say anything. She didn't need words.
She simply fell to her knees in front of him, her head bowed, her hands resting behind her back.
Sitting in Position 1 didn't feel as awkward as she thought it might have. It felt welcoming, like greeting an old friend. It stilled her mind. The moment her knees hit the ground, a part of her sighed with relief. Here, kneeling before him, she didn't have to think. She didn't have to hurt. The burden of failure, of exhaustion, of all the things she couldn't fix—it all slipped away the moment she submitted. She could lose herself in this. Let him take her apart. Let him make her forget she was even broken.
"I can't carry this anymore. I need..." she whispered, her voice cracking with the mass of everything she couldn't say. "Please. Make it stop."
She could imagine Uriel's shock at the sudden turn of events. After her outburst in his office, he probably hadn't thought that she'd ever surrender herself to him again. But Cass could lose herself in Uriel. He made it so easy to be the abyss that she found solace in.
And, if he was shocked, he didn't mention it. He understood why she was on her knees. He always understood.
Uriel's fingers slid under her chin, tilting her head up until their eyes met. His smile was slow, deliberate, as he looked down at her.
"As you wish, Malen'kiy volk."