CASSIAN

The neighborhood we moved into was not the good side of the city. It was the side where the rent was low enough for a new recruit to pay.

But it had its own kind of beauty. It was full of life.

At 7 PM every evening, the smell of everyone’s cooking would drift through the walls.

You could hear the neighbors arguing on the third floor and a baby crying somewhere above us.

The apartment was small. It had two rooms and furniture we found on the street or bought for pennies.

I discovered cooking by necessity.

Julian’s idea of a meal was anything that was edible if you were hungry enough.

Since we were always hungry, it technically worked. But after three weeks of eating what he made, I took over.

I watched people. I watched the women in the market. I watched the guy at the corner deli.

And then I did it. And then I did it again. After two months, I was better than Julian. I was considerably better.

One night, Julian looked down at a dish I had made that didn’t come from a can.

"How?" he asked.

"I watched," I told him. "Most things are simple if you pay attention."

"That’s annoyingly simple," Julian muttered, but he ate every bite.

The best part of the apartment was the roof.

From up there, you could see all of it. On the poor side of the city, the lights spread out like a map that didn’t know you were watching.

We had a ritual. We would get beer from the corner store and fast food from a place two blocks down. We would sit on the edge of the roof and talk.

One night, Julian was lying on his back, looking at the sky. "Do you miss it?" he asked.

I knew what he meant. He meant the estate. He meant the money. He meant the life where I didn’t have to carry boxes or watch my back. I actually thought about it. I didn’t give him a reflexive answer.

"No," I said. I was being honest. "I don’t miss any of it. I miss nothing from before."

Julian turned his head to look at me. "Nothing?"

I looked out at the city. "Nothing that wasn’t already here," I said. I didn’t look at him when I said it.

Julian was quiet for a moment. It was the kind of quiet that meant he had heard exactly what I was saying. "Okay," he said finally. "Simple."

The work was hard. We started at the bottom. We ran errands. We watched doors. We made deliveries. We did all the small things that most people think don’t matter. But the small things teach you everything if you’re paying attention.

I paid attention. I watched how the operation worked. I learned the hierarchy. I found the pressure points. I learned who answered to whom and why. And I learned what happened when those answers changed.

The fighting started early. The first time it happened, it was a man who decided I was the least threatening person in the room because of my age and my face. He was wrong.

What happened to him is why no one else made that mistake again.

The Don noticed. He had built his empire by noticing things before anyone else did.

Julian noticed, too. He was proud of me. It was a genuine pride... the kind a man has when he sees his friend becoming more than anyone expected.

"They’re going to move you up," Julian told me one evening on the roof. We were drinking beer.

"I know," I said.

"Take it," Julian said. He said it before I could even think about hesitating. "Don’t you dare say no. Take everything they offer you."

I looked at him. "You’re not moving up with me?"

"I’m fine where I am," Julian said. He meant it. He wasn’t bothered by it. "I know what I am and what I’m not. Take the win, Cassian."

And I did... For Julian at least... But everything only went downhill.

The women started appearing about six months in. The first one was someone Julian met on a job.

She had dark hair and a laugh that was too loud for our small apartment. Julian introduced her as a "friend," but the way he said the word meant something else entirely.

I said hello. Then I excused myself and went to the roof.

The second one came four weeks later. She was different, but the result was the same. And for years it continues like that.

Whenever Julian brought someone home, he would knock on the door before it opened. He would give me a look that said he needed the room. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

If I wasn’t working or running errands, I would go to the roof. I would grab a beer from the kitchen and sit in the dark. I would listen to the noise of the neighbors and look at the city. I was alone up there.

I didn’t examine what it cost me to sit there. I just ignored it. It was his life. It wasn’t mine to have an opinion about.

One night, I was on the roof longer than usual. Julian appeared through the door. The girl was gone. "You’ve been up here for three hours," he said.

"It’s a nice view," I said.

Julian sat down beside me. "You don’t have to—"

"I don’t have to what?" I asked.

Julian stopped. He looked at me for a long time. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t know if saying it would make things better or much worse. "Nothing," he said finally. "Never mind."

"Okay," I said.

The change didn’t happen overnight. It was like Julian had described his reasons for leaving the estate: it happened piece by piece.

Julian was usually the bright place in my world.

But then I started noticing, the brightness had different intensities. Some days he was full of light.

Other days, the light was dim and gray. I noticed it early. I filed it away, hoping it would go away on its own. It didn’t.

We were working at one of the clubs that belonged to the Lorenzo family. I was there on business, dealing with some paperwork in the back.

I walked into one of the private rooms the kind of room where things happen that the people in the front aren’t supposed to know about.

Julian was there. He was surrounded by a group of people. The laughter was too loud. His eyes were wrong. They were the kind of eyes where what’s behind them isn’t fully there anymore.

I froze. I saw the white powder on the table in front of him. I saw the way he was leaning over it.