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“What happened to him? Antonius?”

“I killed him.”

Cas says the words plainly, coldly, almost without any outward emotion, but… there. Just there. A tightening at the corners of his mouth, a furrow on his brow. Small, so small, small enough that even just a few weeks ago, I might have missed it. All those little tells beneath the mask he wears so well.

“Good.”

My answer startles a rough laugh from the back of his throat. “Good? Sweet Ophelia, I wouldn’t have expected such bloodthirstiness from you. I must say, it suits you well.”

He trails his fingertips over my cheek and runs his thumb along my bottom lip. I catch it between my teeth, and he chuckles softly.

“Do you want any of the details? Or perhaps to run from this room and never speak to me again?”

I think for a moment. “He sounds like an evil fucking bastard who deserved it.”

“That he was,” Cas murmurs.

“And I assume you haven’t made it a habit? Killing people, I mean.”

“I have not.”

“Then I… I don’t think I do. Not right now. Unless talking about it would make you feel any better?”

I soothe my hand over the furrow in his brow and a flash of surprise breaks across his expression, like no one’s ever looked at him closely enough to see his tells.

“No, I don’t think it would.”

He falls silent, nothing more than the darkness of the room and the rise and fall of our shared breath between us.

In that silence, I reach down to twine my fingers in his and raise our bound hands to rest against his chest, lips brushing gently over the back of his hand.

Cas goes still for a few heartbeats before relaxing into me. When he speaks again, his voice is a little tighter, rougher, but he keeps his hand clasped firmly in mine.

“It could have been mine for the taking, Antonius’s power. I could have picked up right where I finished him off, seeking power for myself and creating my own army of thralls.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. Philippe tried, but whether because he never quite descended to those same levels of abject cruelty, or because he wasn’t the vampire who ended Antonius and could claim his power by right, I’m not certain.”

“So what did you do… after?”

A hard, humorless smile tugs at the corners of Cas’s lips.

“I lived entirely for myself. I’ve always had a gift for persuasion, and for knowing how to spot and test others’ weaknesses. It’s what allowed me to get close enough to Antonius to strike the blow that killed him, and what allowed me to build my network of trade and information, leveraging both to gain whatever fortune I could and make my own way through the world. As hollow and selfish as it may have been.”

“I don’t think that’s completely true.”

Cas glances down at me, another flash of surprise breaking through his bitter confession. “No?”

I shake my head. “No. Or else you wouldn’t be helping Blair and Cleo and the Bureau. And I’m sure there are other ways you’ve put those skills to use that haven’t been entirely self-serving.”

“You think too highly of me.”

“Agree to disagree.”

A low rumble of dissatisfaction breaks from his chest, and I suppose I’m meant to take it as a warning. But I’ve never been too good at listening to Cas’s warnings, so I prop myself up and say what I need to while looking him directly in the eye.

“I can’t even begin to fathom the amount of life you’ve lived, or the things you’ve seen and endured, but I… I trust you, Cas. I do.” I flatten my hand just over his heart. “And I know you’ve got a whole lot of good in here.”