āĀ āShe wonāt be brought around your other kids. She wonāt be dragged into whatever circus youāre running. Sheās Alexandria Conti. Thatās it. ā
CONTENT INCLUDES: terminal illness mentioned (cancer), discussion of death, emotionally heavy conversations, edie falco as silvia i love her as carmela, logan roy being a demented prick per usual
wc: 1.5k
Surprisingly, Silvia Conti didn't immediately lose it when the doctor revealed she was now dying. First, she asked how long she had left. Then she asks what still works, and then what doesn't. She listens quietly, clenching and unclenching her fists, silently afraid but willing to accept that this time next yearĀ ā she won't be here.Ā
When she leaves the office, she sits in her car for a beat with the engine off, hands resting on the wheel, gazing off to the brick wall in front of her. She thinks of her sweet little six-year-old, whose school pickup she'd missed to come to this hellhole. About the book she's going to read to her tonight. About how the word terminal sounds so venomous for something that feels like no more than a dull, persistent pressure under her ribs.Ā
She doesn't think of herself and how she's slowly but surely ticking away. She thinks of her Alexandria. Silvia had always known there'd be a moment in her life where she'd have to make a decision that others wouldn't understand. This is the clearest example of it, she doesn't believe in miracles or asking twice. You line things up properly, you see an opportunity, and you take it.Ā
Or you can leave a mess behind. That's the rule.Ā
She waits a week before she calls Logan Roy, not out of fear, but because she knows she must be precise with what she's about to say and ask. When she does call, she calls his office, of course an assistant would answer. Silvia had been demoted from a personal connection a while ago, she was well aware, but nevertheless she gives her name once and waits a minute. Logan'sĀ voice crackles through, impatient as ever yet slightly suspicious.
āYou donāt call me unless you want something.ā he says.
Thank God he couldnāt see her smile, he was always good at recognising her patterns.
āI wonāt take long,ā she replies. āI need to see you.ā
He can be heard exhaling, sharply. āIām busy.ā
āSo am I.ā Silvia persists calmly. āThis is important.ā
A beat passes. It doesnāt take a genius to know Logan didnāt like being told that, even less when he believed it.
āWhere.ā
āLe Bernardin. Iāll be alone, as will you. Goodbye Logan.ā
Le Bernardin is everything she expects it to be: quiet, expensive and indifferent. The sort of place where nothing personal or emotional is meant to happen, which is precisely why she chose it. She arrives early, orders wine she doesnāt even think to touch, and smooths her coat over her lap until her hands can finally still. Logan is late, as expected considering he didnāt enjoy meeting to have a conversation about something he was completely clueless of. Once he arrives, he doesnāt apologise nor does he sit right away either. He just stands beside the table with his jacket still on, his brow furrowed , looking down at her as if she was a scandal he meant to sweep away a while ago.Ā
āYou look fine.ā he says.
Silvia lets out a humorless laugh, twisting the stem of her wine glass. āUh-huh. Sit.ā
He pulls the chair back and sits, finally, agitation already visible on his face. āIām not here for a chat.ā
āNo, youāre not.ā She says evenly.
She doesnāt rush after that, letting the silence stretch on long enough to further irritate him. Logan had always preferred people he could make scramble with a simple sentence, yet sheād never learned that habit. Silvia takes time to fully look at him. His hair now fully greyed as sheād seen in photos, thinning a bit. His wrinkles set in an even deeper scowl, she lets her line of vision drop down to his right hand on the table. A new wedding band gleamed back at her tauntingly, she knew heād put his hand there purposely. It hadnāt been there the last time she saw him up close. Not when she told him she was pregnant and that she wasnāt asking him for anything except distance. Alas, she attempted to pay it no mind and looked back at his face. He opened his mouth to probably make a demand, yet she beat him to it.
āIām dying.ā She delivered the news as deadpan as she could. āItās cancer. Ovarian. Itās terminal.ā
For a mere second, Logan stills. He knew heād be ambushed and tried to rack his brain for any reason Silvia of all people would demand a meeting yet out of all possible outcomes this one hadnāt been a main contender. His jaw tightens, his eyes sharpen.
āYeah well doctors are wrong all the fuckinā time.ā He denies.
Silviaās heart clenches at this, sheād like to think she understood Loganās way of living. The psychological armor heād put up from God knows what heād been through. He was a lethal businessman, closed deals like they were lightwork, to see him deny something this way caught her a bit off guard.
āI got three opinions,ā she confirms. āThey all said the same thing.ā
In a twisted way, that logic seems to satisfy him more than comfort ever could. He curtly nods once.Ā
āAnd how long.ā
āLong enough that Iām pulling strings and moving things in place. But short enough that Iām not pretending.ā
Logan nods again, then he finally acknowledges the topic hanging between them.
āAnd the kid.ā
Silvia huffs a quiet laugh at that. āThe kidā. He doesnāt address her by her name, not as our daughter, just as another problem he needs to categorise.
āSheās staying with my mother,ā Silvia nods. āHer grandmother moved in with us already. Sheāll be in the same house, same school. Alexandriaās settled.ā
Logan leans back from the table, eyes narrowing. āSo youāve got it handled.ā
āPart of it, yes.ā
āThen why the fuck am I here.ā
Silvia meets his gaze without blinking. āBecause sheās yours. And I wonāt leave her exposed.ā
He looks at her pointedly, āSheās not a Roy.ā
Logan catches the relief that springs out as she speaks.
āShe wonāt take your name.ā She continues. āShe wonāt be brought around your other kids. She wonāt be dragged into whatever circus youāre running. Sheās Alexandria Conti. Thatās it.
His expression hardens, āYou donāt get to fuckinā dictate terms as if-ā
āI can.ā Silvia cuts in, calm but sharper now. āBecause you wonāt be raising her, I donāt trust you to do so.ā
That stops him, which only urges her to continue.
āIām asking you to make sure sheās secure. School and college. A roof over her head if something were to happen to my mother Madonna mia. Enough money that she never has to ask whether she costs too much.
Logan pinches at his nose bridge, āSo what, you want me to spoil her with a chunky trust fund is that it?ā
āI want stability.ā Silvia shrugs as she leans back. āCall it whatever if it helps you sleep at night.ā
āYou couldāve asked for more.ā
āMhm.ā
A moment passes.
āBut Iām asking for exactly enough.ā
āFuck, you show up after all these years.ā Logan snaps, irritation finally breaking through, āand now youāve got your hand out.ā
Silviaās jaw tightens, just a little. She knew this is where she had to let herself sharpen or he was going to chew her alive.
āListen to me,ā she hisses quietly. āI didnāt come to you at all before because I didnāt want my angel involved in the house of quiet violence youāve built for yourself over there in the city. Iām here now because I donāt get to enjoy the luxury of pride, not when I have to be a mother first. Bastard.ā
That lands.
āYou canāt keep her from me,ā Logan says.
Typical Logan. She thought. Only taps into fatherhood when convenient for a play.
āI just wonāt push her toward you, Capisce? If she wants answers, she can ask you herself. I refuse to sell her a fairytale.ā
āAnd does she know who I am?ā
āShe knows you exist,ā She says. āThatās sufficient.ā
That somehow unsettles him more than anger would have. Silvia stands before he can redirect the conversation, before he can turn it into something else. She picks up her coat, her bag.Ā
āYou donāt have to see her.ā She adds. āAnd you donāt have to love her, I wouldnāt subject her to that. You just have to make sure the world canāt hurt her when Iām gone.ā
Silviaās throat begins to tighten and she swiftly turns around, Loganās voice stopping her in her tracks.
āShe wonāt be weak.ā
But he wasnāt reassuring her, that was his condition from his side of the deal. This makes her turn back around slowly, to look at him ā Logan Roy, the man who mistakes fear for strength.
āShe isnāt. And she wonāt be, Alexandriaās not built that way.ā She says, quiet and final.
And with that Silvia Conti steps out from the room and out the hotel. The cold winter air nipping at her face, yet consoled by the certainty that her daughter wonāt ever be unaccounted for.
A/N: and it's ouuuuuuuuuuuut !!!!! a huge ass thank you and dedication to @killerkendallroy, she's been a literal sweetheart and motivated me so hard and discussed this through with me. TO BE CLEAR, as the reader you are alexandria. specific features/ skin tones won't be described since i wanna be as inclusive as i can to all. i'm excited for you to read on this journey with me as this is my fic and english IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE and i will try have my drafts proofread for you guys. anyways hope you enjoyed !
taglist: @thrtorturedpost @nichemint @killerkendallroy @cru3lfools (love u guys already #ogs)
credit for the gif divider goes to @uzmacchiato !!
I got a bone to pick with some of you smut writers: why do you make the reader "mewl" or "whimper"???? On top of that, sometimes yall love making the reader a weak ass insecure bitch "He had experience before which makes me jealous because the women he's been with are sexy and beautiful and mature and I'm none of these things and I'm so insecure" girl sybau. And writers? Do better.
Cassie talks with her brother in her childhood home, learning her family's deepest, darkest secret.
wc: 5.5k
cw: language, canon typical violence, shitty family things, drug use, cannot stress the canon typical violence enough
a/n: i apologize for any pain this chapter brings in advance
series masterlist | masterlist
ON HER WAY out of Wayne Tower, Cassie told Alfred she needed to go water her houseplants.Ā
It was a weak excuse and she knew it. Alfred seemed to know too, but Alfred being Alfred, he didnāt press. He simply gave her a long, knowing look and a gentle nod. Despite something behind his eyes flickering with worry, he let her go without question.
Cassie felt the weight of his gaze long after she left Wayne Tower.
From the moment she left Wayne Tower, she couldnāt shake the feeling that she was being watched. While she, unfortunately, was used to people following her around, something about this feeling was more sinister than usual. That creeping, electric itch under her skin made her feel like she was being hunted. On the drive over, she gripped the steering wheel so hard her fingers cramped, her neck strained from how often she was checking her mirrors and blindspots. By the time she parked in the Montclair Tower garage, her palms were sweaty. Her fingers trembled as she twirled her keys, the other hand gripping her phone like a lifeline.Ā
The hair on the back of her neck somehow raised higher when she stepped into the lobby. While no place in Montclair Tower was particularly loud, it was eerily quiet now. The silence felt like a trapāno receptionists, no staff, not even a janitor buffing the marble floors. Just a lone security guard who barely looked up as she walked past. She scurried to the elevator and pretended not to be aware of how loud her breathing sounded.
Graham lived in the penthouse at the top of Montclair Tower. They had both lived there as children back when it had belonged to her father. Her grandfather, the first of the three Christopher Montclairs, had built a shabby place to crash in the tower for when he didnāt want to go all the way back to the family manor. After he retired and passed ownership to his son, her father gutted the modest apartment and the executive suite then built the penthouse at the top of Montclair Tower. He had liked drinking his Scotch while looking down on the entire city, thinking about the money and power he had. Besides, living in the same tower that housed his company meant he had twenty-four hour access to the building, even on holidays. Whenever her father died, the penthouse went to Graham with the promotion. It was now another dumb family tradition they had, one that Cassie didnāt mind missing out on. She liked not living in her fatherās home and having her own space away from the company.
After punching in the code, the elevator dinged open with a sharp tone that made her flinch. Cassie didnāt think she had ever heard the penthouse so quiet.
āGray?ā she called, her voice catching.
Nothing. Cassie stepped in the landing cautiously, each footstep too loud on the hardwood floors. The stillness of the penthouse was heavy against her ribs. She could almost taste it, the silence almost metallic.Ā
āGray, Iām here,ā she said, her voice echoing in the gallery.
No answer again. Surely he should have been around if he asked to meet with her so urgently, right? Whenever she walked down the hall to the great room in hopes that she would find him there, she stopped cold.
It was wrecked.
Papers were strewn across the floor and coffee table, drawers yanked halfway out, files upturned like someone had been searching for something and didnāt care who saw. Cassieās breath caught in her throat. Never once had she ever found a space of Grahamās a mess. While he normally had maids to help him keep his spaces tidy, Graham had always been neat, even when drunk. Whatever she was looking at now wasnāt drunk. This was desperation.
Graham was sat on the couch, sorting through the papers he had obviously been so desperate to find. He was so focused he hadnāt even heard her calling for him. The opened bottle of whiskey and half-drank glass beside him didnāt help her nerves.Ā
āGraham, what the fuck, dude?ā she said as she moved to stand in front of him, though the tremor gave her away.Ā
His head snapped up, eyes wide and dark-rimmed, pupils blown. The bottle of whiskey on the table was half-empty, the glass beside it half-drunk. When she saw his face, something twisted in her stomach. Sweat glistened along his temples, eyes dark-rimmed and pupils blown wide. His hands shook so badly she thought he must be sick.
āYou said you wanted to talk,ā she said carefully. āWhat is so important that you couldnāt just tell me over the phone?ā
He glanced up, voice hoarse. āCassā¦ Iābefore I say anything, I need you to see something first.ā
āIf this is about a work thing, Iām literally gonna fucking kill you.ā
āNoājustā¦ please, Cass. Come sit.ā He patted the space beside him on the couch.Ā
Cassie hesitated, eyes darting to the papers. She had spent years learning how to read filings and documents and knew exactly how to sort through a maze of corporate jargon and spreadsheets, and yet something in Grahamās demeanor made her uneasy. She sat slowly, wary, and he poured two fingers of whiskey into the empty glass on the table.Ā
āHere, drink this.ā
āIām good,ā she said as she sat down next to him, still scanning the stacks of documents with wide eyes.
āHave it,ā he insisted, a tremor running through his voice. āYouāre gonna want it. Promise.ā
She hesitated. She wasnāt really a fan of whiskey. Despite that, she took the glass from him and took a sip, the familiar burn hitting her throat.
Without anymore argument, Graham slid the stack of documents in her direction. She picked up the top folder and began flipping through, her fingers stiff with tension. Most of the papers she read were shipment logs, cost reports, inventory forms, chemical compound sheets: standard and mundane paperwork she had seen hundreds of times. She didnāt find anything unfamiliar until she found a thick packet, the first paper stamped with a red CONFIDENTIAL on top.
Cassie froze.
She glanced at Graham like she expected him to say something, like he would snatch the papers out of her hands and tell her, Actually, donāt touch that, itās not for you, like he normally would, but he didnāt. Instead, he averted his gaze back down and took another swig of his whiskey. With that, she swallowed hard and continued reading, scanning line after line of the current page she was on.Ā
She couldnāt understand what was so confidential about the packet that she didnāt already know about it. At first, it read like corporate filler. Long lists of pharmaceuticals, all of them at least somewhat familiar. She had signed off on stuff just like this before. As she read further, something shifted. Unlike the paperwork she would sign off on, there were discrepancies and Grahamās handwritten notes in the margins. The product she was looking at currently was a methamphetamine. They didnāt have much of it compared to some of their other drugs, but they supplied it to pharmacies across the country.
Ā Cassie vaguely remembered something about one of their methamphetamine shipments having an issue just after Graham had been promoted. She remembered that a distributor had brought it to a board memberās attention, that about one third of the boxes were missing but the product itself was accounted for. She hadnāt thought much about it then, but remembered that it had come up in a board meeting in reference to customer satisfaction and loss prevention. Whenever the board member had asked Graham about it, he had said that he would handle it. Whatever this was must have been the solution.
On the next pages were instructions for āalternateā delivery routes. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusionāwhat the fuck? While she typically spent more of her time with their R&D department and with consumers directly, she had never heard of an alternate delivery route, at least not one like this. She didnāt recognize any of these distributors either. Then she noticed the shipments that bypassed their standard logs. One blacked out name kept recurring in loops. One word on the page hit her like a gunshot, her heart immediately turning cold.
Safrole.
Her stomach turned at the sight of the seven letter word. Safrole was illegal to synthesize in the United States, never mind distribute. He knew as well as she did that safrole was rooted in ecstasy creation. What the hell was he doing making safrole and giving it to people?
She flipped to the next page without thinking, then the next, then the next, a wave of nausea sweeping over her. Fentanyl. Codeine. Hydrocodone. Every goddamn drug she could think of that they manufactured made an appearance in the document. Some had the names of other illegal drugs written around them both in Graham and her fatherās handwriting, others just circled in ink. More marked with shorthand codes she didnāt understand. There were pages and pages, yearsā worth of data leading her to one possible conclusion: her family had been trafficking drugs.
What the fuck did you do?
She threw the file back down on the coffee table and stood from the couch, taking her whiskey with her and downing the rest of it in one go. He was rightāshe really had needed the whiskey.
āCassie, say something.ā
Say something? What the fuck was she supposed to say? Her brother and apparently their father had built their company on lies. She didnāt know whether to be angry, horrified, upsetāwaves of emotion hit her all at once.Ā
āYouāre fucking with me,ā she finally managed to say, not believing her own statement.Ā
āI really wish I was,ā Graham said softly, his elbows digging into his knees, shoulders hunched like he was carrying a weight too big to set down.Ā
She shook her head. āThisā¦ no. This isnāt right, I meanāā
āCan we skip the denial part and jump to you yelling at me?ā he asked. When he saw the look on her face, he averted his gaze nervously. āIām sorry. I justā¦ I donāt want to lie to you anymore. You deserve to know the truth.ā
āThe truth?ā Cassie barked out a short, sharp laugh. āWhat that weā¦ That ourā¦ our whole company is just a front for a drug empire?ā Her voice rose as she spoke, cracking under the strain. āGod, I canāt even fucking look at you right now.ā
His jaw flexed, the muscle ticking once before he whispered, āIām sorry. I didnāt know.ā
Cassie scoffed. āBullshit.ā
āI didnāt,ā he said, firmer this time. āNot until Dad died. Someoneā¦ came to me and explained all this.ā
She stared. āWho?ā
āI canāt say. I wonāt.ā
She blinked, numb. āWhat, so now youāre choosing to protect me?ā
His head snapped, almost like something she had said offended him. āThatās all Iāve ever done.ā
She shook her head, tears already blurring her vision. āI donāt believe you.ā
āYou donāt have to, but I have. Iād do anything to protect you. Youāre my little sister, Cass.ā
āJust stop,ā she said, pressing her palms into her eyes. āStop talking so I can think.ā
She didnāt know what to say. Each time he spoke was another blow, each sentence landing harder than anything she had read in those files. Her entire life had been constructed on lies. While it wasnāt necessarily Grahamās fault, he had continued to let them reap the benefits of what their father had created.Ā
āCassie, Iām sorry. I had no choice.ā
āYou did have a choice,ā she said, her voice brittle as she tried to fight tears. āYouāve lied to me for years. You should have told me. IāWe couldāve figured out something.ā
āYou donāt get it,ā he said, swallowing hard. āThey said if I didnāt keep this going, theyād come after you. They were going to kill you if I pulled out.ā
She stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. āYou thought keeping me in the dark would actually protect me?ā
āNo, I knew it would.ā His hand slammed against the armrest of the couch, sharp enough to make her flinch. āYou donāt understand what thatās like to have someone tell you theyāll take the little family you have left from you if you donāt do what they ask. I couldnāt run the risk of losing you. I wouldnāt, even if it meant doing something so terrible.ā
She swallowed the lump in her throat. While she didnāt exactly know what she would do in that situation, she liked to think that she would have pushed back. Based on Grahamās reaction, she wasnāt so sure.Ā
āWhy are you telling me this now?ā
āBecause, Cass, itās the right thing to do,ā he said. āYou said that earlier today at the accounting office, and I havenāt stopped thinking about it ever since. It only made me realize how fucking wrong Iāve been.ā
She scoffed. āAre you fucking serious? You let me correct one mistake and tell you how big of an asshole you are and that tells you that maybe running with drug dealers is a bad idea?ā
āYou donāt understand. Weāve been running with these people for years, Cass. Narrows dealers. Gang members. The mayor, the police commissionerā¦ this is so much bigger than you realize.ā He sighed. āAfter Dad died, someone came to me. He told me I could take Dadās place or I could bury you too.ā
āAnd you said yes?ā she asked, almost incredulously.
āI didnāt have a choice.ā His breath hitched. āYou donāt understand the kind of people weāre dealing with. I kept going because I had to. I thoughtā¦ I thought youād be safer this way.ā
āYou should have told me!ā she yelled, her voice breaking. āYou shouldāve fucking said something! Goddammit, you let me work here, Gray!ā
āI couldnāt.ā Cassie thought he might have been crying. āI wasā¦ I was just trying to protect you. Iām sorry.ā
Her hands shook. She felt bile creeping up her throat, sweat beading on her forehead as her legs swayed. For a moment, she thought that being dead was better than knowing this.Ā
āYou asked me this morning why Iāve changed so much. This is why.ā He tried to laugh, but it came out as a wheeze. āIt changes you, Cass. All of it.ā
āThatās not good enough,ā she shot back. āHow do you know they werenāt just bluffing?ā
āYou donāt think I asked them that, too?ā
āI donāt know what to think about you anymore, considering you justāā
āAll right, just stop for a minute.ā When she furrowed her eyebrows at him, halting her speech, he exhaled hard, dragging a hand through his hair. āDo you rememberā¦ when Mom died?ā
āYeah?ā she answered, voice cracking. āWhatāre youā¦ Thatās not important right nowāā
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against his fist, breathing raggedly. āIt wasnāt an accident.ā
She blinked once, almost like she hadnāt heard him properly. For a moment, the words didnāt land right. They hung in the air, flat and incomprehensible. She stared at him for the longest time, giving him the opportunity to take his statement back. She finally managed a āWhat?ā
āThatās what dad said happened, right? It was just a hit and run.ā He was trembling, trying to hold himself up. āIt wasnāt an accident, Cass. Mom was murdered.ā
She could only stare at him, the room tilting slightly as she gripped the edge of the couch to steady herself. āNo, thatāsā¦ thatās notāā
āI didnāt believe it at first either,ā he went on, voice unsteady, ābut itās true. Thatās why Dad started acting like such a dick. He was scared we would be next.ā
āNo,ā she said, her voice breaking as she shook her head, trying not to break out into sobs. āThatā¦ That canāt be true. Youāre lying.ā
āWhen I found out, I thought it was a lie, too.ā He stared into his glass, unable to meet her eyes. āAt first, when I said I wouldnāt do it, this guy, heā¦ he told me that Dad tried to pull out when we were kids. He thought he could walk away, too. He wanted to take us and start over somewhere far from here, but before he couldā¦ā He swallowed hard, his throat working around the lump there. āThey killed her to send a message. They made it look like an accident, but Dad knew, and they threatened to kill us next if he ever tried pulling out like that again.ā
Her breath faltered, but no sound came.
āThatās why I couldnāt tell you,ā he said, finally looking at her again. āThatās why I kept doing this. If I kept the deal alive, theyād leave you alone, and Iā¦ I couldnāt lose you too, Cass. I couldnāt let that be on me.ā
Tears welled hot in her eyes, but she blinked them back furiously, not wanting to break in front of him. She could hardly form words from the way her throat burned. āYouā¦ Mom wasā¦ā
āIām sorry,ā he whispered. āWhen I found out, Iā¦ I couldnāt breathe. I thought I would never tell you. I mean, how do you tell your little sister that your mom was murdered?ā
The silence that followed thickened the air. Her mind stumbled, scrambling through half-buried memories to see if anything stuck out to her, for some proof that what she had just heard wasnāt true. That her father hadnāt gotten her mother killed fourteen years ago because of a stupid mistake.
Instead, all she could find were details she hadnāt given much thought to before. She remembered how her father had grown even more cold and distant after the funeral and how it followed him to his death. How Graham, just a week or so after their fatherās death, had seemingly lost his mind, only to become just like him. For just a moment, she let herself think about her mother.Ā
Her chest ached so hard it almost felt like her ribs were cracking. In a lot of ways, she had taken after her mother. She still wore her perfume. People had always told her she looked like her spitting image, but that she had also inherited her ability to fight for what was right, even if it didnāt benefit her. Even after fourteen years, she could still hear her laugh, see her smile, feel the soft warmth of her hands. She remembered the last hug she had given her before she had gone off to school that fall, having no idea that that would be the last time she would see her in person. She remembered even clearer how she had believed every world her father had told her and her brother about that accident on the way back from that gala in BlĆ¼dhaven.Ā
How stupid she had been.
Her father had known, her brother had known, and for some reason, they had both let her live in that lie.Ā
Her knees nearly buckled at the thought.Ā
āYouā¦ You knew,ā she whispered, the sound thin and uneven. āYou knew and you said nothing?ā
He looked at her helplessly, eyes wet. āCass, please, you have to understand.ā
She shook her head, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. āNo. No, you donāt get toāā Her voice broke. āYou let me think it was justāā
Her heart ached so strongly she couldnāt form words. All those years of missing her mother, of wondering if she could have been saved, every bit of it now curdled into something sharp and unbearable. Her mother couldnāt have been saved, even if she hadnāt gone to that gala: she was damned from the start, just like her and Graham.
She drew a shuddering breath and finally looked up at him again. Her voice came out horse, barely there.
āYouāve ruinedā¦ everything,ā she whispered, her voice hoarse. āOur lives are over.ā
āNo.ā He gripped the edge of the couch like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His knuckles whitened, his words slurring faintly at the edges. āNo, Cassie, I saved you.ā
She pushed herself up from the couch, legs trembling under her like they barely belonged to her. Her vision swirled for a moment, half-lidded and blurry, but she forced herself upright. āI canāt even fucking look at you right now.ā
Her voice trembled, almost raw, carrying all the heartbreak and disbelief she couldnāt stand to hold in her any longer. Every muscle in her body ached like she had been physically beat, her chest tightening with panic and grief simultaneously.
When she moved toward the door, a hand clamped around her wrist with surprising force. She turned to find Graham standing, swaying slightly, eyes wide with an intensity she hadnāt seen before.
āGrahamāā
āStop. YāYou canāt leave. Weāre not safe. Someoneās always watching us, okay? You canātāā
āLet me go.ā
āCass, please. Itās not safeāā
āLet go of me, Graham!ā
He released her wrist, but his whole body trembled violently. As he pulled back, the whiskey glass in his other hand slipped, shattering against the hardwood with a harsh, echoing crash. The sound made her flinch, her heart leaping into her throat.
āAre you seriously drunk right now?ā she demanded, panic threading through her words. āAm I gonna have to clean that up or is that something you can manage without committing another felony?ā
He didnāt answer. Instead, the ground seemed to tilt beneath him, knees folding like paper, and he crumpled toward the floor. Her stomach dropped. She lunged instinctively, trying to catch him, but his weight slammed against her.
āGray!ā
She collapsed to her knees beside him, panic clawing up her spine. Her fingers fumbled desperately across his shoulders, shaking him, searching for any sign of life. His breathing was laboredāwet and unevenāand every exhale sounded wrong, like it shouldnāt belong to a human being. His skin was slick with cold sweat, clammy and frightening under her touch.
Her own chest burned as if her lungs had been set on fire, rising and falling in jagged spasms that barely kept her alive. Her stomach churned violently, bile threatening to climb her throat, but she forced it down. Grahamās body was growing limp beneath her hands, and her mind screamed at her to do something, anything, before it was too late.
āMotherfucker, donāt you fucking die on me,ā she hissed through gritted teeth, voice breaking as she shook him harder. She felt her own fingers go numb, her arms trembling as if filled with lead.
She tried not to lose her mind over the sound of him choking on his own tongue. She thought she was about to have a panic attackāshe couldnāt hardly breathe. She didnāt know what was wrong with him, but she didnāt have time to try and figure it out completely. She wiped her foreheadāshe had never been this sweaty before.Ā
āCome onāā she choked, palms slamming against his sternum in frantic compressions, counting in her head. āYou are notāā she gasped between counts, vision blurringā āleaving me, you son of aāā Her voice cracked, breaking into a wet, desperate cough.
Her arms felt like sandbags, heavy and useless, each push weaker than the last. The fuck is going on? A cold, horrifying realization clawed at her: it wasnāt just Graham. Something was wrong with her, too. Her vision blurred, white-hot stars splintering across her eyes. Sweat poured down her face, stinging her bloodied skin. Her head spun, each heartbeat hammering like a drum in her skull.
She swallowed, tasting copper on her tongue, and realized that her lungs were screaming for air, that her chest felt too tight to expand. But there was no time to think about thatānot when Graham was fading beneath her. She twisted him carefully onto his side, fearing a seizure, her hands shaking so violently she could barely hold him steady.
Her phone slid across the floor, and she fumbled for it with numb, trembling fingers. Her vision tunneled, everything around the edges dark and melting. When she finally managed to press the call button, the distance from her eyes to the screen felt impossibly far.
Bruce picked up within half a ring, his voice somewhat calming despite the tensity of it.Ā
āCass, whatās wrong?ā
āBruceāā Her voice cracked, a rasp caught between gasps. āIāGrahamāheāsāā She wheezed through a coughing fit, the sound wet and rattling in her chest. āSomethingās wrongāā
āSlow down,ā he said, though his words came too fast. āWhere are you?ā
She opened her mouth to answer, but the weight dropped out of her chest. She tried to hold herself up straight, not wanting to collapse next to Graham. She was drenched in sweat, hands nearly slipping on the floor. What the fuck is happening to us?Ā
āCass, come on, answer me. Where are you?ā
His voice sounded like it was coming from underwater, warped despite the urgency of it. She forced the words out despite it hurting her chest.
āMontclairāā she wheezed. āI donātā¦ Heās notāā
āStay with me,ā Bruce cut in sharply, like he could physically grab her through the line. āCass, listen to me. Iām almost there.ā
She coughed violently before answering him, her lungs burning.Ā
āCass, Iām almost there. Donāt close your eyes, you hear me?ā His voice almost imperceptively broke with his words. āIām so close. PleaseāGod, please just stay with me.ā
Her hands shook violently as she reached for Grahamās chest. His skin was cool. She pressed her palm against it, searching for any sign of movement. Was he breathing? She couldnāt tell.
āHelp is coming, okay?ā she whispered, her voice nearly gone. āWeāre gonna be okay.ā
She coughed so hard her chest burned. āFuck.ā
The word barely left her mouth before she saw itāa shadow shifting in the dark.
Her phone slipped from her grasp, clattering across the floor as she gasped. She could still hear Bruceās muffled and frantic voice echoing through the tiny speaker, though she was unable to make out his words. All she could hear was the raw urgency of his tone. As she looked at the figure, she pushed through the pain. She had to protect Graham. She had to save herself.
The figure was tall. Wrong. Drenched in darkness. She blinked hard, trying to make it go away, but it didnāt. She knew the figure couldnāt have been Bruce, because he was smaller, thinner, but he still wore something dark.
He stepped closer, his figure becoming more clear as he stepped into the light. He was wearing a mask. The same mask the man that had killed the police commissioner wore.
āYou,ā she tried to say as she held herself up, but it barely came out.
The Riddler crouched low beside Grahamās unconscious body and smiled. Not with his mouth, but with his eyes, like he was admiring his own handiwork. āItās a shame I didnāt get to see it for myself. You got here later than I thought you would.ā
Cassie tried to move toward him, but her limb felt like lead. Her breaths came in shallow bursts.
His head tilted slightly, almost curiously, as he watched her struggle. A glint of metal in his hand caught the light. Despite her unsteady vision, she could recognize the letter opener from her fatherās study from anywhere.
She froze for a heartbeat. Then, instinct took over.
āNo,ā she gasped, pushing herself forward. āDonātā¦ Donāt touch him.ā
The Riddlerās fingers tightened around the handle, Cassie lunged, desperate, clawing her way toward Graham ignoring the pounding pain in her chest. Her shoulder slammed into his arm, but he was faster.
She grabbed at his wrist, twisting it hard, trying to wrench the blade away. Pain shot through her own hand, but she didnāt let go. Her other hand shoved against his shoulder.
He chuckled softly, almost amused at her effort, and shoved her back with enough force that she tumbled sideways. She landed hard into the couch, the wind knocked out of her.
āI said stay away from him,ā she choked out as she pulled herself back up.Ā
The Riddler stepped toward her again, blade raised. Cassie used the couch to pull herself up and kicked out instinctively, catching him in the shin. His breath hitched slightly, but he steadied himself. Her own breath came faster now, ragged and sharp, as her lungs started to hurt.
She gritted her teeth and lunged again, clawing toward him as he moved closer to Graham. This time he shifted quickly, pinning her arm with one hand and bringing the blade down across her abdomen with the other.
The steel bit into her skin, piercing through the fabric of her sweatshirt with ease. She gasped, a strangled sound tearing out of her, but her fingers clenched anyway against his wrist. She twisted and yanked, trying to break free, but he was too strong for her, at least in the state that she was in right now.
āStop fighting,ā he said. āCanāt you see Iām trying to help you?ā
She couldnāt hear what he was saying. Pain radiated through her chest and stomach. The blood came fast, soaking through her sweatshirt, sticky and hot. Her vision pulsed white as she held her stomach with one hand, reaching for an object to throw at him with another. Before she could pick it up herself, the Riddler grabbed the table lamp on the side table and swung it down over her head. The impact exploded through her skull.
She hit the floor hard, her vision fracturing. Shapes melted into blurs, the sound of her own ragged breathing ringing in her ears. She could still hear the low hum of her phone: Bruce was still on the other line. She could barely hear him, his voice urgent but still muffled.
Her mind screamed for her to move. To stop this before she and her brother were both killed.
Her fingers clawed at the hardwood. She forced herself up on trembling arms, ignoring the sharp, searing pain in her abdomen and head. Her sweatshirt was damp with blood. She pressed her palm to it again instinctively, trying to stop the flow.
Somehow, she dragged herself forward, each movement agony and defiance in equal measure. Everything blurred. Her vision sparkled with white-hot stars as she fought to keep her eyes open.
āYouāre dying. Both of you are,ā he said kindly as he leaned over her, almost like he was telling a child it was time for bed. āBut donāt worry. You wonāt be forgotten. The people of Gotham will know the truth soon enough.ā
He reached down and gripped Grahamās ankles, starting to pull him toward the elevator.
āNo,ā she croaked. āDonātāpleaseāā
Cassieās chest heaved, panic flooding through her veins faster than whatever was shutting her body down. Her nails scraped uselessly against the wood as she forced one arm forward, then another, dragging herself inches at a time.Ā
The room spun. Pain sharpened into something unbearable. Her head hit the floor again. Her stomach twisted.
She rolled onto her back, coughing hard, breath tearing through her throat. Her lungs burned. Sweat poured down her face, mingling with blood. Her body was so weak but she kept trying to move.
Nothing made sense. The spurts of black that danced across her vision made her want to throw up. She didnāt know how long she lay there. She coughed again, her chest on fire. Her body was drenched in sweat. She was dying. Dying and alone and cold but simultaneously burning alive. She didnāt want to die like this.
Cassie barely heard the door from the stairwell breaking from its hinges over the pounding of her heartbeat. The sound came muffled at first, swallowed by the ringing in her ears, but then she heard the heavy footsteps followed by the frantic call of her name.Ā
āCass! Cass, where are you!ā
She wanted to answer, but no sound came. Her mouth felt heavy, her body heavier. Her breathing was ragged as her eyes fluttered shut. She could only lie there, battered, bleeding, as if waiting for her inevitable demise.
When she opened her eyes again, a shape knelt beside her. He was there suddenly, impossibly close, and she could feel the weight of him without fully understanding how he got there.
She tried to speak again, but words failed her.
āIāve got you,ā the figure said softly. āIām gonna get you out of here, okay?ā
She didnāt feel the cold kevlar of his suit pressed against her skin for a mere second or two before the darkness finally came to claim her.
Reminder that, AI doesnāt randomly sprout random words, they are trained based on stolen works made by humans. Most AI companies do not care about asking or even crediting writers from whom theyāre stealing.Ā Promoting an industry that steals from writers and put it under a tag where most fics are made from humans and was created to promote real writers is lowkey crazy.Ā
Itās not even just companies, there are people here who stole paragraphs from fanfics to put them in their character ai prompt.
And the generative AI industry is very destructive for the planet (summer is getting hotter each year for mafia boss rp to existšāāļøš„) and by extension our lives, not saying that other apps are better for the planet, but at least you can support real writers and not billionaires only.
Or write fics yourself, so you donāt pollute each time you ask AI to redo a sentence. āBut Iām bad at writingā literally every writers said that, just make it exist first you will make it good later, learn your style, what you like to write and you will eventually create at least one thing you will be proud of. Itās difficult for everyone but creating things you wish existed is worth it.Ā And believe me that there are people here who would love to see what you write, diversity in fics community is a need. You can do it people ā¼ļø
hey everyone, i rlly hate to do this fr. i told myself this was the last thing i ever wanted to do but i have no other choice. iām falling behind on rent thatās due the fifth of august and only have $200 out of $750. since my job has been cutting my hours drastically, iāve been behind on rent and utilities for five months straight and only make $230 a week which isnāt nearly enough to cover all of my bills on top of caring for myself and saturn (my cat). iāve been on the hunt for a new job and havenāt been able to find one yet. i fear that my landlord will evict me if i continue being late on my payments, and i cannot afford to lose my home. iāve recently had a major surgery that took a toll out of my mental state, so for the past three months iāve been extremely depressed and in the worst shape. itās causing me to lose motivation to better my life but i am trying. if anyone is willing to help me iād be EXTREMELY grateful. i have cashapp & kofi. anything would be helpful and if you canāt donate iād appreciate if youād boost this message. thank you. ā”
į¹ Ā āø HONESTLY , comparing how my theme looks on here and how it looks on wattpad most definitely shows how much Iāve been missing out on this apppp !!!
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