Sins of St. Augustine

Chapter 12

The room was minimalist, overpriced, and somehow still disappointing. One massive bed sat dead center. Cassian dropped his bag with a thud, yanked out his phone, and stabbed the room service button.

“Yes. Room 408. We need a second bed. Send one up,” he said, voice clipped.

A pause.

“Yes. Now.”

He hung up sharply and blew out a breath through his nose. “They said they’ll be right up. Five minutes.”

“Cool,” I said, flopping onto the bed.

Cassian stood there a moment, loosening his tie, looking ready to commit murder.

I cracked one eye open. “You gonna stand there all night?”

He muttered something under his breath and finally dropped down onto the edge of the bed. For a second, it was quiet — just the hum of the cheap hotel AC.

Then I said, “What are we supposed to do about Julian Crowe?”

Cassian leaned back on his elbows. “I’ll text Alaric. See if he knows anything.”

I just grunted and closed my eyes. I hoped this Alaric guy could actually find something.

I yawned. "When’s the damn bed getting here?” I mumbled.

He grabbed the phone again and called, irritation dripping from every word. “Yes, hello, Room 408 again? We ordered a second bed—”

A long pause. His jaw tightened. “A broken wheel?” He repeated, deadpan. “Seriously?”

Another pause.

“No, I don’t want extra blankets. I want a bed.”

He hung up and threw the phone onto the nightstand.

“They’re sending blankets,” he said flatly.

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Without a word, I grabbed every spare pillow and stacked them down the middle of the bed like a barrier. Cassian raised an eyebrow. “What the hell is that?”

“Making sure you don't do anything suspicious when I'm asleep," I said, already lying back down.

He snorted under his breath. “Trust me, you’re not my type.”

“Good," I mumbled

He snorted, kicked off his shoes, and climbed under the covers.

One room. One night.
The second bed never came.

**

It was the middle of the night, and I wasn’t any closer to sleeping.

I stared at the ceiling, listening to the clock tick somewhere in the room. Cassian shifted restlessly on his side of the bed.

"You awake?" he said, voice low.

"No," I muttered.

He ignored that. "Can I ask you something?"

"No."

Didn’t stop him. "You think you’ll feel better? When... when my dad’s finally rotting in jail. Payback for yours."

I didn’t answer right away. It sat in the air between us, heavier than the dark.

"I don't know," I said finally. "It won’t bring him back."

Cassian let out a breath, a sharp little huff like he was laughing at himself.

"Yeah," he said. "But maybe it'll make it hurt a bit less. Worth a shot, right?"

"Maybe."

The silence returned, brittle and uncomfortable. I stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster, until I found myself speaking again.

"Can I ask you something?"

He shifted, the bed creaking under him. "Go on, then."

"Why are you so hell-bent on sending your own father to prison? He didn't buy you enough ponies for your birthday?"

Cassian snorted, the sound low and amused, but there was an edge to it too. "Yeah," he said, voice dry. "That's it. Tragic, really. No pony, no private jet for my birthday, deep emotional scars ever since."

He was quiet for a second. Then, in a voice so low I almost didn’t hear it, he said, "He ruined everything he touched. Everything. People like him—they don’t get to live."

I turned my head slightly on the pillow, looking at him through the dark. "You really hate him, huh?"

Cassian let out a bitter laugh, sharp and ugly. "Hate doesn’t even cover it. If I could erase him from history with a snap of my fingers, I would. No hesitation."

There was a rawness to his voice that made my chest tighten a little.

I shifted a little under the covers. "Yeah. I get that."

He glanced sideways at me, eyebrow raised. "You got a lifelong nemesis too? Or just being polite?"

I didnt say anything.

"Come on, I thought we were bonding."

"My mom had this best friend."

Cassian didn’t move, but I could feel him listening.

"Her name was Lily," I muttered, picking at a loose thread on the pillowcase. "She... she tried something once. When I was a kid. I pushed her off and ran.

Cassian didn’t say anything right away. Just the soft rustle of sheets as he turned slightly, facing me in the dark.

I kept talking, voice barely above a whisper. "My mom cut her off immediately, kicked her out, told me it wasn’t my fault. But—I don’t know. I still feel... weird about it. Like if I’d said something sooner, maybe she wouldn’t have been around that long."

Cassian’s voice came quiet, steady. “You were a kid.”

“Yeah. Still.” I swallowed. “It’s like there’s this part of me that never grew up after that. Like it got stuck.”

He was silent for a moment. Then, “People like that? They deserve whatever’s coming.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.

And after a beat, he said, “If you ever want her gone... I know a guy. Two, actually.”

I snorted under my breath. “That sounds like something you do for a friend. We’re not… friends… right?”

Cassian didn’t even hesitate. “Of course not, Mercer. Shut up.”

I let out a small laugh, barely a breath.

The silence after wasn’t awkward this time. Just quiet. Sort of… easy.

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I love them smmmm

Also so sick rn (pray for me bitches)

Ily all

🖤💋