[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl Chapter 119: Stubborn

NOAH

I hate this.

I hate the heavy, artificial silence that stretches between us. I hate the way the dust motes dance in the late afternoon sun, oblivious to the fact that my world is currently tectonic plates shifting beneath my feet.

Most of all, I hate the distance. It’s the distance I begged for. It’s the coldness I claid would be my sanctuary after weeks of being burned by his proximity. I wanted to be free of him. I created this wall, stone by stone, accusation by accusation.

But now that I have it... now that he’s actually giving exactly what I asked for... I realize it isn’t a sanctuary. It’s an isolation chamber.

...

Cassian didn’t look back at . He moved with a grim, chanical purpose, shutting the briefcase with a sharp clack that sounded like a gunshot in the quiet suite. He snapped the latches closed, his knuckles white against the black leather. Then, with a hand that I noticed was trembling just a fraction, he swept a stack of folders and stray papers into his arms.

He was efficient. He was quick. There wasn’t a single wasted movent, as If every second he spent in my presence was a physical toll he could no longer afford to pay. He turned toward the door, his eyes fixed on the exit like it was a life raft.

He took a step. Then another.

And then, his body betrayed him.

He staggered. It wasn’t a small trip; it was a violent sway of his entire fra. The briefcase slipped from his grip, hitting the plush carpet with a dull thud. His hand shot out, his fingers clawing at the back of the sofa to keep himself upright.

My heart didn’t just skip a beat; it stopped. The air in my lungs vanished.

I moved before I had even processed the thought. My body acted on an instinct deeper than my pride, deeper than my anger. I closed the distance between us in two strides, my hands reaching out to steady him. "Cassian... "

He caught himself. With a grunt of pure, agonizing effort, he straightened his spine, pulling his arm away before my fingers could even graze the fabric of his blazer.

But I saw it. I saw the way his knees had buckled, the way his knuckles turned skeletal as he gripped the couch. And I saw his face. He was pale... not just the shock-pale from the hospital, but a sickly, translucent grey that made the cuts on his skin look like neon signs of trauma.

"Did you get checked?" My voice ca out sharper than I intended, vibrating with a frantic edge. "By a doctor? A real scan at the hospital?"

Cassian said nothing. He didn’t even look at . He just bent down to retrieve the briefcase, his jaw set so tight I thought his teeth might crack. The movent was slow, deliberate, and clearly painful.

"Cassian. Answer . Did you get checked?"

Still nothing. He ignored as if I were a ghost haunting the room, a voice on the wind. He gripped the handle of the briefcase and started toward the door again, his gait stiff, forcing his body to obey a will that was clearly overextended.

I couldn’t let him leave like this. I stepped in front of him, blocking the narrow path between the armchair and the foyer. "Answer ."

He stopped. He finally looked at , and the impact of his gaze was like a physical blow. His blue eyes were icy, devoid of the fire that usually burned there. "Move," he said. The word was a low, guttural rasp.

"Not until you answer."

The dam broke. All the hours of terror, the sight of that mangled car, the rejection at the hospital... it all surged up my throat in a hot, frustrated torrent.

"You’re so fucking stubborn!" I yelled, my voice bouncing off the high ceilings. "You almost died today, Cassian! You saw that car... I saw that car! You could have internal injuries, a concussion, a brain bleed, anything! And you’re just walking around like nothing happened, like you’re indestructible."

"It’s none of your business," he replied, his voice chillingly calm.

"None of my—" I let out a sharp, bitter laugh that felt more like a sob. "You’re right. It’s not. Because you made it very clear at the hospital that I don’t matter. You’ve been treating like I don’t exist for hours. Like I’m invisible."

Cassian set the briefcase down. He did it slowly, with a terrifying sort of deliberation. He turned to face fully, squaring his shoulders despite the obvious pain it caused him.

"Why do you care so much, Noah?" The smirk was back. That infuriating, sharp, razor-edged smirk that he used as a shield. It was cold and mocking. "Especially about a criminal like ."

The words hit like a physical slap to the face. My own words. The things I had scread at him when I was trying to hurt him. He was throwing them back at , using them to build the very wall I was currently trying to tear down.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat feeling like a stone. I had to fix this. I had to at least take the venom out of the air.

"Fine," I whispered. "I’m sorry. For what I said. About your past. About what you are."

Cassian tilted his head, his eyes tracking the movent of my lips with a predatory intensity. "Are you?"

"Yes," I said, my voice gaining a desperate strength. "I shouldn’t have... but you can’t bla for saying those things, Cassian! Not when you weren’t exactly an angel to either. You manipulated . You trapped in that contract. You used however you wanted, whenever it suited your goals. So yeah, I was angry. I was lashing out."

Cassian stepped closer. One step. Then another.

He didn’t stop until he was right in front of , his massive fra towering over mine. Even battered, even bleeding and swaying with exhaustion, his presence was overwhelming. He slled of the hospital, of tallic blood, and underneath it all, that expensive, dark sandalwood cologne that always seed to coat the back of my throat.

"You really think this is about the apology, Noah?" His voice was a low, dangerous rumble, sothing dark and primal vibrating underneath the surface.

"It’s not," he continued. He leaned in closer, his face inches from mine, forcing to breathe in the very air he exhaled. "Everything you said about ? Every single word you spat at in that room?"

My breath caught in my chest.

"Was fucking correct," he hissed.