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When you didn’t come home at the time you’d said you would, Cassian didn’t think much of it. You would often run late when you were out shopping, lingering too long in front of a shop window or taking a long time to choose which top you wanted to buy—only to buy them both in the end.
But when dinner came and you still hadn’t returned, he started to worry. You hadn’t warned him that you would be this late. He tried to pull on the bond, but you didn’t answer.
Pacing in front of the door, he told himself he’d give you ten more minutes. In the meantime, he would keep trying to reach you through the bond, and if you still hadn’t arrived when the time was up, then he would come looking for you.
His eyes stared at the clock on the wall as if he could make time move faster. His shoulders were tense, his wings twitched, and not even a minute had passed when he yanked the door open and took to the skies.
You had mentioned the Palace of Thread and Jewels, so that was where he started. He searched the whole place, but most shops were already closed and there weren’t many people around at this hour. The few he talked to said they hadn’t seen you.
He searched the area close to the Palace, flying above the houses to have a wider view of the streets, yet low enough to recognize you or to catch a trace of your scent on the wind.
His mind had gone into full warrior mode. He wouldn’t let panic rise and fear cloud his thoughts. You still weren’t answering his constant tugs on the bond, but for all he knew, Mor and Feyre might have joined you while you were shopping, and then you had gone back to the townhouse with them, lost track of time while sipping wine, and were now fast asleep on the couch. You had never handled alcohol well.
He hoped that was what had really happened. He prayed to the Mother that it was just that.
Powerful beats of his wings carried him over streets and squares as he flew in wider circles over the city. Just as he considered checking the townhouse or Mor’s apartment and asking for his family’s help in case you weren’t there, a familiar scent reached his nose.
It was faint and mixed with a slightly metallic smell, but it was undoubtedly yours.
Cassian followed it to a dimly lit alley, where a figure leaned against the wall, struggling to walk or even stand upright.
He landed with a thud, wings folding behind him. “Y/N?” he called tentatively.
At the sound of his voice, you lifted your head. A choked sound came from you, and then you were stumbling forward. Cassian caught you before you could fall, holding you up when your legs seemed to fail you.
“Sweetheart, what…”
His voice faded as he pushed the hair out of your face and his thumb brushed over your sticky temple. The metallic scent filled his nostrils, but now he recognized it for what it really was.
“Is that blood?” he asked, gently turning your head to get a better look. Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking the cut near your hairline and the red trail down the side of your face.
Fury boiled inside him, his eyes already scanning the alley for any sign of threat. He found none.
You mumbled something incomprehensible, and his gaze snapped back to you. Your eyes were closed, your head dangling to the side as if you didn’t have the strength to hold it up.
This was his fault. If he had looked for you earlier, if he had come with you instead of letting you go alone, none of this would have happened.
“Sweetheart,” he called, gently cupping your face. “Baby, please, just look at me.”
Your eyes fluttered behind your eyelids, but they didn’t open. “Cass…” you whispered, your voice weak and barely audible.
Cassian swore, and you only groaned as he quickly gathered you in his arms and cradled you to his chest. Making sure your head rested on his shoulder, he unfolded his wings and took off once more, heading for Madja’s clinic.
“Baby,” he tried again as he flew as fast as he could. He had to keep you conscious, to make sure you didn’t pass out. “Talk to me, please. Can you tell me what happened?”
Your mouth barely moved as you spoke, your answer nothing more than a low rumble, but at least you were talking. Cassian could make out only a few words—bag, stole, money, males—and it was all he needed to piece together what had happened.
He brushed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you as he landed in front of Madja’s door.
“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he promised, knocking a bit too forcefully on the wooden surface. “You’re safe now.”
He would first make sure you were okay, and then he would go out to find whoever had hurt you and make sure they paid for it.