CHAPTER 47: WHO THE HELL IS DANIEL?

"What are you guys doing?" he asked, voice thin.

Aiden turned, guilt flashing across his features. "Cassian... we got this package."

He held out the photograph.

Cassian took it.

One look, and his world shattered.

The photo was old, edges yellowed, colors faded like a memory left too long in the sun.

Two young men stood side by side outside what appeared to be a college dorm. One had his arm slung casually around the other’s shoulders, grinning with that same sharp, knowing smirk Cassian had seen his face a hundred times. Now that he looked closer, the eyes were the same. The tilt of the jaw. But this boy was younger, softer yet already carrying that same quiet menace.

And the other?

Cassian’s breath stopped.

It was him but not him.

The boy in the photo had sharper cheekbones, longer hair swept to the side, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder. He wasn’t smiling. Just staring at the camera with tired eyes that held too much.

But those eyes...

They were his.

On the back, in neat, looping cursive, someone had written:

"Don’t forget my love, dear. – Daniel."

Not Lucian.

Daniel.

His real name. His real past. His real nightmare.

Memories flooded back uninvited, violent.

Daniel, grabbing his hair in that dim apartment, forcing him to look at Him.

"You’ll always be mine, Elliot. Even if you change your name, your face, your whole damn life, you’ll always come back to me."

The pain. The shame. The way he’d learned to disappear inside himself just to survive.

Cassian’s hands began to tremble violently.

"No," he whispered. "No, no, no -"

Aiden and Leonel exchanged a glance. They didn’t understand the photo. But they saw the terror in Cassian’s face the way his pupils dilated, the way his breath came in short gasps.

"Cass?" Leonel stepped forward. "What is it? Who’s Daniel?"

Cassian didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His vision blurred. The room tilted.

Without thinking, he turned and walked fast, almost running into the kitchen. He yanked open the stove, twisted the knob, and lit the burner with a sharp click.

Then he held the photograph over the flame.

The edges curled black. The image of "Elliot" darkened, warped, vanished into smoke.

Aiden rushed in. "Cassian, wait -!"

But it was too late. The photo was ash in his fingers.

He dropped it into the sink, chest heaving, eyes wide with panic.

Leonel stood in the doorway, voice low. "Who is Daniel, Cassian?"

Cassian turned to them, face ashen, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He opened his mouth to lie, to deflect, to say it’s nothing -

But the words wouldn’t come.

Leonel stepped closer. "Who is Daniel, Cassian?"

Cassian looked at them really looked and for the first time, they saw not just fear, but grief. Shame. A past so heavy it bent him double.

"I can’t... explain right now," he whispered. "Just... please don’t ask."

Aiden nodded slowly. "Okay."

But Leonel’s voice cracked like glass. "Then who the hell is Daniel?"

Cassian said nothing.

He just stood there, surrounded by ash and silence,

knowing the past had found him again.

And that silence that refusal to speak was the final straw.

Leonel’s hands clenched at his sides. "Why won’t you tell us anything?" His voice rose, sharp with frustration, not anger at Cassian, but at the helplessness clawing at his chest. "We’re right here! We saw what he did to your neck! We saw you burn that photo like it was poison! And you still won’t let us in?!"

Aiden moved fast, grabbing Leonel’s arm. "Don’t do this right now," he said low, urgent. "You can see he’s not in the -"

Before he could finish, Leonel yanked his arm away with a sharp jerk. He clicked his tongue in frustration, eyes blazing not with rage at Cassian, but at himself for losing control.

"I’m going outside to get some air," he muttered, already striding toward the door.

Cassian opened his mouth to call him back, to say wait, please but no sound came out. He just watched Leonel disappear through the doorway, shoulders rigid, fists still clenched.

Aiden sighed, then turned to Cassian. Without a word, he took his hand and gently led him to the couch. He sat down and pulled Cassian beside him, close enough to feel his trembling.

"Don’t feel bad," Aiden said softly. "You know right? Leonel’s worried sick about you. He’s not angry at you. He’s angry that he can’t fix this."

Cassian didn’t speak. He knew if he opened his mouth, the tears would come and once they started, they never stopped.

Aiden studied his face the red-rimmed eyes, the bitten lip, the way his breath hitched and then opened his arms.

"Come here," he murmured. "If you wanna cry, you don’t have to hold it back. I’m here for you to cry on."

Cassian looked at him, tears already spilling over. Then he collapsed into Aiden’s chest, arms wrapping around him like a lifeline.

"I’m sorry," he choked out between sobs. "I want to tell you both. I really do. But I don’t have the courage. And it’s not something you’ll... accept. I’m scared. I don’t wanna lose you both."

Aiden held him tighter, one hand rubbing slow circles on his back, the other cradling the back of his head. "I know, Cass," he whispered. "Don’t cry. It’ll be okay."

He paused, voice thick with emotion. "Leonel just couldn’t hold it in. We both feel helpless when you shut us out. But that doesn’t mean we don’t love you. Okay? Nothing you say could change that."

Cassian nodded, burying his face deeper into Aiden’s shirt, tears soaking the fabric.

-------------

Outside, Leonel kicked a loose stone down the sidewalk, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The morning sun felt wrong too bright, too cheerful for the storm inside him.

He wasn’t angry at Cassian.

He was angry at himself.

Why did I shout? He’s already terrified. He’s carrying something so heavy he can barely stand and I made him feel guilty for not sharing it?

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I should’ve stayed calm."

He wandered farther from the dorm, past the quiet shops, into a narrow alley lined with delivery crates and flickering streetlights. His mind raced Who is Daniel? Why does Cassian look at that photo like it’s a ghost? Why won’t he trust us?

He turned a corner -

and bumped hard into someone.

"Sorr -" he started automatically.

Then he looked up.

Lucian stood before him, wearing a crisp white shirt, a faint bruise still visible on his temple from last night. But his eyes? They were calm. Smug. Amused.

"Oh," Lucian said, smiling like they were old friends. "It’s all right... brother~"

The word dripped with mockery.

Leonel saw red.

In one motion, he grabbed Lucian by the throat and slammed him against the brick wall. "How dare you hurt him," he growled, voice low and lethal.

Lucian didn’t struggle. Didn’t panic. Even as his airway compressed, he laughed a soft, breathless chuckle that made Leonel’s blood boil.

"Liked my mark?" Lucian rasped, eyes gleaming. "Fits him, doesn’t it?"

Leonel’s fist connected with Lucian’s jaw before he could stop himself.

Crack. he punched him hard

"Ow," Lucian said, licking blood from his split lip. "That was extra."

Leonel leaned in, nose almost touching his. "Stay away from Cassian. He’s not yours to claim. You don’t get to hurt him like that and walk away like it’s nothing."

Lucian’s smirk vanished.

His eyes darkened. Dangerous.

In a flash, he twisted free and swung.

His fist hit Leonel square on the side of the mouth.

Pain exploded sharp, hot but Leonel didn’t stagger. He just wiped the blood from his lip and glared.

Lucian stepped closer, voice dropping to a venomous whisper.

"You think he’s not mine?" He let out a bitter laugh. "Bitch, he was mine way before you even laid your eyes on him."

Leonel froze. what? belong to him? His chest, he felt a dagger in his chest is he saying he belonged to him first what does this mean leonel thought

Not because he believed it.

But because of the certainty in Lucian’s voice, the ownership the possessiveness coiled beneath the taunt.

Lucian straightened his shirt, smirking again. "Tell him I said hello. And tell him... Daniel misses him."

Then he walked away, leaving Leonel standing in the alley, blood on his lip, fear in his chest,

and one terrifying question echoing in his skull

Who the hell is Daniel?