Page 88 of Pucked Around and Found Out

Cas hesitates, then his face crumples—not with pain from his injuries, but with something deeper. Something raw.

“KennaDee,” he rasps, and the name is like a confession torn from his soul.

I go completely still.

KennaDee. Toren's best friend. The girl who died in the crash with Em, Miles, and Neave.

“She knew about KennaDee,” Cas continues, his voice breaking. “Knew that I was in love with her because of Kellan. Knew that I wouldn’t stop trying to find out the truth about that night.”

My blood runs cold.

“What?” The word comes out barely above a whisper.

“I was supposed to be there,” Cas gasps, tears mixing with the blood on his face. “That night. KennaDee asked me to come with them, I turned her down because I wanted to stay with the team and told her I would catch them back at the house.”

He swallows hard, the pain in his eyes having nothing to do with his broken bones.

“But she never made it back. And then she was dead. And no one could tell me why. The official report said drunk driving, but Toren said she was fine. She was the designated driver that night. She always was.”

Understanding crashes over me like ice water.

“Fiona had the real accident report,” I say slowly.

“Yes.” Cas's voice is hollow. “She had dashcam footage. She had the toxicology reports that were buried thanks to Meekan and Steven. She had everything. And she offered me a deal—feed her information on you, and she'd give me the truth about what really happened to KennaDee.”

“So you sold me out for a dead girl,” I say flatly.

“I sold you out for answers!” Cas roars, then immediately regrets it as pain lances through his broken ribs. “I needed to know, Xaden. I needed to know if KennaDee's death was an accident or if someone killed her. If Masen was already killing people back then. If there was something I could have done to save her if I'd just been there.”

His voice cracks completely.

“I loved her,” he whispers. “I fucking loved her and I never got to tell her. She died thinking I didn't care enough to show up for her when it mattered. And I've spent every day since then wondering if things would have been different if I'd just been there.”

The raw honesty in his voice guts me.

Because I understand.

Lucifer help me, I understand.

I've spent two years doing the same thing—wondering if I could have saved Em if I'd been there. If I'd made different choices.

If I'd seen the signs earlier.

“What did Fiona tell you?” I ask, my voice rough.

“That it wasn't an accident of sorts,” Cas says quietly. “That Toren was drunk and lost control, killing KennaDee, Neave, Miles and your sister.”

The words hang in the air like a death sentence.

“Did you believe her?” I demand.

“I didn't have a choice!” Cas's voice breaks again. “She had evidence, Xaden. Real evidence. Not speculation or theories—actual fucking proof of what happened the night the girl I loved died. What was I supposed to do? Ignore it?”

I want to rage at him. Want to tell him he should have come to me. Should have trusted me with the truth.

But I can't.

Because if someone had offered me proof about who killed Emery, I would have burned the world down to get it.