Without a word, Cassian crossed the study directly toward a crystal decanter sitting on his bar cart. His hands, usually so steady, had a slight tremor to them as he lifted the glass stopper. He poured two heavy shots of dark amber liquid.
Turning around, his light blue eyes were glassy with an overwhelming weight of grief. He stepped forward and held one of the glasses out to Ryker, offering a small, sad attempt at a reassuring smile.
"Drink," Cassian murmured, his voice thick. "Just a taste. It... it takes the edge off the shock."
Ryker's gaze tracked the movement, his eyes mapping the slight twitch in Cassian's eyelid and the heavy, uneven rise and fall of his chest under the tactical gear.
"I don't drink," Ryker rasped flatly.
Cassian blinked, looking down at the untouched glass. He didn't argue. Driven by a numb, desperate need to drown his own sorrow, Cassian reached out and took the glass right back out of Ryker's fingers.
Their skin briefly brushed, a sharp friction that made Ryker's fingers twitch. His eyes remained locked on Cassian as the older man threw back the first shot, the muscles in his throat flexing, followed immediately by downing Ryker's rejected glass right after. Cassian exhaled a long, shaky breath, gripping the empty crystal tightly.
"You must have really loved your brother," Ryker rasped, his voice stiff.
Cassian's shoulders dropped, a shuddering breath escaping his lips. He didn't offer a standard reply. He didn't say 'yes'. Instead, he looked around the reinforced walls of the study, his voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper.
"I built it," Cassian murmured, his gaze drifting aimlessly. "I built this entire place.... everything... for him. To keep him safe. And if he's not here, if he's out from under my protection and he's... he's dead..." He choked on the word, his chest heaving under his tactical vest. "It just makes it all feel so useless. It just makes me so damn sad."
As the confession left his lips, a single, heavy tear spilled over his thick lashes, tracking a clean line down his dust-streaked cheek, quickly followed by another.
Ryker swallowed hard, shifting his weight. He hated this. He hated the vulnerability, hated the emotional weight pressing down on the room. But despite his personal distaste for Cassian, he felt a genuine pang of sorrow for the boy they had lost. He forced himself to say something, bridging the gap with the one truth they actually shared.
"At least Julian died knowing that he was loved by everyone," Ryker said softly, his voice losing a fraction of its usual harsh edge. "That's just... that's just who Julian was. He drew people in."
A ghost of a reaction crossed Cassian's face. The heavy, suffocating grief seemed to shift, just a fraction, making room for something tender. A small, bittersweet smile broke through his exhaustion.
"I'm happy that my brother knew someone like you," Cassian said, his voice thick with unshed tears as he looked at Ryker. "Someone who didn't care about what he had, or what he could provide. You just liked him for him."
Hearing those words, something in Ryker's rigid posture finally melted. For a brief second, his deep-seated dislike for Cassian was eclipsed by their shared love for the boy who was gone. For the first time since they had entered the mansion, the harsh line of Ryker's mouth softened. He offered a smile not a cold smirk, but a genuine one. It was tight, unpracticed, and a little forced because of how awkward he felt, but it was still the most real, human face Cassian had ever seen him make.
Cassian blinked, momentarily captivated by the sudden warmth in the student's eyes. Driven by a desperate need for comfort, Cassian stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
He didn't pull Ryker into a full hug knowing better than to completely breach the younger man's boundaries...but he reached out and buried his face directly into the crook of Ryker's neck. Cassian leaned his forehead against Ryker's unarmored shoulder, entirely ignoring the sticky, metallic smell of the blood and gore coating the man's clothes, using Ryker's solid stance to hold his own armored weight upright.
Ryker went completely rigid, his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides, his mind flashing with a brief spark of annoyance at the sudden contact and the invasion of his space. But he didn't pull away. He stood there like a statue, letting Cassian lean on him, anchoring the older soldier against the wreckage of his own grief.
Then, Cassian's grip on Ryker's clothes tightened.
"I'll protect you," Cassian muttered, his voice muffled against Ryker's shoulder, vibrating with a sudden, fierce intensity. "From now on... I'm keeping you safe. It's what Julian would have done. It's what he would have wanted."
Before Ryker could even process the weight of that promise...or the irony of an elite soldier vowing to protect him...Cassian abruptly pulled back.
The raw vulnerability vanished from Cassian's face, replaced by a sudden, volatile flash of self-loathing. With a harsh, guttural grunt that ripped from the back of his throat, Cassian swung his right hand up.
Smack!
The flesh-on-flesh impact echoed through the quiet study. Cassian had struck his own face with terrifying force, the violent slap leaving a stark, angry red handprint blooming across his cheek and jaw.
Ryker actually flinched, his eyes widening in genuine surprise.
Cassian didn't even blink at the pain. He aggressively wiped the remaining tears from his eyes with the back of his dirty sleeve, his jaw setting into a hard, rigid line. The grieving brother was gone; the mission-driven commander was forcing his way back to the surface.
"Alright," Cassian barked, his voice rough and commanding, though it still carried a faint tremor. "Enough crying."
He looked past Ryker, staring blankly at the heavy mahogany doors of the study, adjusting the straps of his tactical vest with sharp, aggressive jerks.
"There will be time to grieve later," Cassian said, his tone turning cold, and completely detached. "Once I ensure everyone's safety. Once the perimeter is entirely secure. Until then, we move."
Ryker stared at the angry red handprint darkening Cassian's cheek, his initial surprise slowly morphing into something else entirely. A dark, twisted sense of amusement curled in his chest.
Ryker's lips twitched with a faint, smirk that he didn't bother to hide.
"What was your percentage?" Ryker asked, his voice flat, casual, and utterly detached from the tragedy of the room.
Cassian blinked, his rigid posture faltering. He looked up, his bloodshot eyes clouding over with deep confusion at the sudden, jarring change in subject. Just seconds ago, he had been weeping into the kid's shoulder; now, Ryker was asking a question that made absolutely no sense in the context of a dead brother.
"My... what?" Cassian asked, his brow furrowing as he tried to process the words.
"The percentage," Ryker repeated smoothly, his eyes locking onto Cassian's face with a new, sharp intensity. "The number the System gave you when it initiated the firm connection."
Cassian rubbed his temples, the heavy grief temporarily short-circuiting under the sheer randomness of the query. He forced his mind to recall the bizarre, floating text that had flashed in his vision during the initial chaos outside.
"Ninety-eight percent," Cassian muttered, shaking his head slightly. "It said ninety-eight percent synchronization. Why?"
Ryker froze.
For the first time, the blank, amused mask completely dropped from Ryker's face, replaced by a genuine shock that made his chest tighten. If his theory was right a Ninety-eight percent. In a world governed by strict progression rules, a starting synchronization rate that high was probably something unheard of.
Cassian caught the sudden, rigid change in the student's demeanor. Looking at Ryker's stunned expression, the former soldier realized he was missing a massive piece of the puzzle.
"What?" Cassian asked, his voice dropping, the confusion hardening into a demand for answers. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Do you... do you know what that number means?"
Ryker quickly pulled himself together, the shock vanishing from his eyes as he threw up his usual blank wall. He wasn't about to hand over vital information about the System for free, especially not to someone he secretly despised.
"No, it's nothing," Ryker lied smoothly, his voice dropping back into a flat, casual drone. "I think I understand what the percentage means, but I'm not too sure yet. I'm not confident enough to explain it."
Cassian stared at him for a long beat, trying to read the unreadable student. But under the heavy weight of his own exhaustion, he didn't push. He took a slow breath, accepting the answer, and nodded.
"I understand," Cassian murmured.
Reaching out, Cassian placed a heavy, gloved hand on Ryker's unarmored shoulder, giving it a firm, comforting rub. It was a gesture meant to reassure the younger man, a silent reminder of the promise he had just made to keep him safe.
"Let's get you out of here," Cassian said, dropping his hand and gesturing toward the heavy mahogany doors. "I'll get you a room where you can stay and clean up. I'll have some food brought up to you soon."
Ryker didn't object. He silently turned and followed as Cassian opened the doors and led the way out into the mansion's sweeping, secure corridors.
Standing just outside the study was the guard.The moment they stepped out, the guard's eyes locked onto Cassian. Ryker watched closely, his sharp eyes catching the subtle shift in the guard's expression..a look of deep, protective worry that quickly melted into a small, relieved smile when he saw Cassian was holding it together. They were clearly close friends, bound by years of service.
Cassian didn't say a word to him. He didn't acknowledge the look or give any orders; he simply offered a brief, tight nod of understanding.
Without a word, the guard fell into step, silently escorting Ryker down the long, opulent hallway toward the guest quarters. Ryker didn't speak either. He just kept his gaze fixed ahead, following the guard's lead through the quiet mansion until they reached a heavy, dark wood door.
The guard opened it, gesturing for Ryker to go inside. Ryker stepped into the pristine, luxurious bedroom, the door clicking firmly shut behind him, leaving him alone with the smell of dried blood and the silence of the room.
Back down the hallway, the guard turned to Cassian, his expression hardening into one of serious concern as he watched the blood-soaked college student disappear behind the door.
"Cassian," the guard said quietly, keeping his voice low in the empty corridor. "Do you trust him?"
Cassian stood still for a moment, staring at the closed door. The image of Ryker's blank, amused face and that sudden, chillingly genuine smile flashed through his mind.
"I don't know yet," Cassian admitted, his voice rough. "He's a strange kid. We'll see."