The door slammed, leaving only silence for a moment. A dim lantern swayed, casting weird shadows in the small room. The air smelled strongly of salt, wet wood, and old rum. Barrels lined the walls, their metal bands rusty, and ropes hung like nooses. A small table was attached to the floor, covered with maps and melted candle wax.

Cassian let out a breath, dropping his act. He felt the ship moving beneath him, the slow rocking that had become normal on The Red Wind. Thorne stood there, arms crossed and looking angry.

"You little shit—" Thorne said quietly.

Cassian just smirked. "You didn't give me a choice."

Thorne's eyes flashed. "So, you faked being sick just to get me down here?"

"Can you blame me?" Cassian replied. He stepped closer. "You've been avoiding me for a week. No explanations, no plans, nothing." His voice got sharper, full of anger. "You said we were going after Matthias. But it feels like I'm just wasting time on this ship while you—" He gestured at Thorne. "Do nothing."

Thorne breathed out slowly, clenching his fists. "You think I'm doing nothing?"

"That's how it seems."

Thorne's jaw tightened. He walked to the table, touching a map. The lantern showed a bunch of routes and markings that meant nothing to Cassian, but clearly meant something to Thorne.

Cassian watched him. "Then tell me. Why should I believe you when you won't even look at me and give me an honest answer?"

Thorne laughed without humour. "Believe? You think that's easy?"

Cassian scoffed. "Don't talk to me about believing when you're the one who—"

Thorne moved fast.

He pushed off the table and grabbed Cassian by the shirt. Cassian barely reacted before he hit the wooden beam behind him. His heart raced, but he didn't show it.

Careful, Thorne said, his voice low and threatening.

Cassian smirked. "There you are."

Thorne tightened his grip before shoving him away. "You have no idea what you're asking," he muttered, turning away.

"Then tell me," Cassian insisted, rolling his shoulders. "Why haven't you told me anything? What are you waiting for?"

Thorne put his hands on the table, looking down. He didn't answer for a moment.

Then he said, “There's a reason I haven't told you anything.” Thorne looked at him, his eyes hard to read. “There are things you don't get.”

“Then help me get it.”

Silence filled the space, the ship rocking. The lantern flickered, shadows moving across Thorne's face. Then—so quickly Cassian almost missed it—Thorne's fingers twitched toward his arm. Just a quick movement, but Cassian saw it.

A habit.

Cassian looked closely. "What aren't you telling me?"

Thorne hesitated.

And that hesitation said everything.

"You're scared," Cassian said slowly. "Not just of what's happening to Matthias. Of something else."

Thorne's face darkened. "Stop, Cassian."

"No." Cassian stepped closer, his voice low and urgent. "You keep saying I don't get it. Then make me get it. Why won't you tell me anything?"

Thorne's breathing was steady, but his fingers twitched again—curling against his sleeve. As if he was trying not to touch something underneath.

Then, Thorne let out a breath, his voice rough.

"Because knowledge is not safe, Cassian. It spreads."

Cassian frowned. "What does that mean?"

Thorne's eyes flickered, showing the exhaustion underneath.

You think I'm keeping things from you to be mean? Thorne shook his head, sounding bitter. I'm keeping you alive. Because once you know, it won't let you go.

The ship creaked, the candlelight flickering as if the ship agreed with Thorne's words. Cassian shivered.

"You're lying," Cassian said, but he didn't sound sure.

Thorne laughed quietly. "Am I?"

Cassian wanted to argue, but something in Thorne's face stopped him. A darkness in his eyes that Cassian couldn't name.

And then he saw it.

Just for a second, Thorne's sleeve pulled back—showing a bit of ink on his wrist. Faint, but spreading.

Cassian's stomach dropped.

He knew that mark. Something wasn't from a man, but something else.

Thorne saw that Cassian noticed and pulled his sleeve down.

"This is over," he said.

Cassian clenched his fists, but now he felt unsure. He had wanted answers, but now he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

But one thing was clear—whatever had touched Matthias had touched Thorne.

And Cassian might be next.