Cassius climbed the stairs to his chambers, his steps slower than usual. The moment he entered, he peeled off his bloodstained coat, letting it drop unceremoniously to the floor. The pain had settled into a dull throb, but he ignored it, heading straight for the washroom.
Warm water greeted him, steam curling in the air as he lowered himself into the bath. The heat burned against his wounds, but he welcomed it, letting his body relax against the porcelain.
His thoughts wandered again—to Elias, to Adrian, to the weight of a past he had tried so hard to leave behind.
Luther was wrong.
He wouldn't regret it.
He couldn't afford to.
For now, all he could do was move forward.
And whatever lay ahead…
He would face it as he always had. Alone
Elias had just finished folding the last of the linens when he overheard a passing remark.
"The Master has returned… He's injured."
