"If you think you're gonna hurt me or my daughter, you've got another thing coming, bitch."

As Ethan spat venom in a low growl, Cassandra's sneer morphed back into a smile, and her eyes widened in what could only be described as twisted delight.

"I should've sliced off that foul tongue of yours when we first met," Her eyes flitted to Ethan's hand, a wicked smirk tugging at her lips, "instead of your finger, which was delightful, by the way!"

Ethan's clenched fists trembled at his sides and his tight scowl darkened. He took a violent stride forward, only for Bela to halt his advance with an arm to his chest. It may as well have been a brick wall standing between Ethan and Cassandra, as Bela did not relent when he tried pushing past her.

Bela drew in a deep breath and asked, "What do you want, Cass?"

A low giggle slipped out as Cassandra replied, "Many things, Bela. Summer, more blood to drink, more prey to slaughter," her eyes tightened into a glare, "I also want my money to not be stolen again. But around you, I keep my expectations very low these days anyway."

Bela kept one arm interposed between Ethan and Cassandra, while her free hand came up to briefly pinch her nose bridge. She began, "Cass, about that –"

The brunette did not allow her sister to finish, instead cutting her off with a sharp gesture, "Remember how I said you owe me one?"

Ethan glanced to the side at Bela, who wore a furrow at her brow. He grunted out in question, "What?"

Cassandra went on, "I will cash in on that favor now, and for the days to come."

Neither Ethan nor Bela had the chance to interject, or to ask Cassandra to elaborate. The brunette was swift in pivoting the conversation. "It's in both of your best interests to play along. After all," Cassandra's smile was nothing short of devilish, "it would be a shame if Mother found out the man-thing has been in her room." She craned her head one way, peeking over Bela's shoulder and into the bedroom-turned-nursery. "She would not take kindly to learning this pathetic wretch has seen his little baby either."

Fists still shaking at his sides, Ethan waited and listened.

A hum rumbled out from Cassandra, her smile infuriatingly cocky, "Hmm… you know, I don't even need to go straight to Mother," Cassandra tapped a finger to her lips in a show of thought. "I can simply tell Tanya, and she will do the rest."

It took just a moment for it to register who Tanya was – and that Cassandra called the grand chambermaid by a nickname. It did not feel like a particularly significant revelation on its own, but Ethan did acknowledge that Bela had never used such a nickname when speaking of Tatyana.

"After all the hard work and lying to save the man-thing's skin," Cassandra paused only to bare her teeth at Bela in a snarl, "After all the days I spent cleaning this damn castle… it would be a shame if Mother skinned your darling puppy alive anyway."

There was the confirmation it had indeed been Cassandra that Ethan saw exiting the grand hall, days ago.

"What is it then?" Bela finally snapped, "What do you want from us?"

Cassandra's face reset into a mask of neutrality. She took a slow, measured step backwards, giving them space to exit the room. "Armory." Cassandra's hand came up to gesture, and her gaze met Ethan's. "Five minutes. If you don't show yourself, Mother will find out everything." She glanced at Bela, almost as an afterthought. "Oh, and you can come too."

With little other recourse, Ethan grunted, "Fine."

Cassandra flashed a toothy smile, winked, and then she was gone in a torrent of beating flies. Her swarm vacated the corridor faster than Ethan could follow the path she took.

Ethan let out a long, weighty sigh. When he looked at Bela, he found her to already be peering up at him, a frown creasing her tattooed forehead, and her teeth pressing down on her bottom lip. Her hand landed on Ethan's bicep, and she soon wrapped her arm around his completely. Head tilted down the corridor, Bela told him, "We should go now."

He sent a final glance through the doorway at Rose – still sound asleep. Ethan spoke under his breath, eyes on the ornate crib, "I'll see you soon, Rosie. I promise."

They closed the bedroom door before Ethan could be tempted to stay any longer. Time was of the essence, and Bela gave Ethan's arm a gentle tug to lead him down the hall.

"The fuck is going on?" was the first thing Ethan could articulate and ask. Yet even as the words formed, dots were connected – which prompted Ethan's next question, "You owe her one because of the shit I pulled in the cellar?"

It was a no brainer. Off the top of his head, Ethan could think of no other reason Bela would owe Cassandra anything.

Aside from the "borrowed" money, of course.

Bela's shoulders sagged a degree further as they navigated the corridors of the castle's second floor. "To put it simply, yes. Much of the blame fell to Cassandra when it did not fall on you." She gestured down the banisters to the Great Hall – spick and span – and added, "Hence, the cleaning duty."

It appeared, one way or another, there really was no running from the consequences of his actions. As Ethan had told Daniela about a week ago, he was prepared for the fallout. If he had to be strapped to a chair and bled dry for days on end until the stock was replenished, then so be it – as long as he suffered, and not some innocent maid, or whatever unfortunate passerby happened upon the castle. The cellar was his mess, and he would not flinch in the face of whatever he reaped.

It's just that Ethan didn't expect that whatever Cassandra had in store was what he had reaped.

But whatever it was, it couldn't be good. That seemed to just be his curse at this point. The brief respite of reuniting with Rose was never going to last. It was the natural course of events – the unfortunate trajectory of his life – that the good stuff never lasted, and he should really be used to it by now.

He had Mia, only for her to be taken away from him twice. He had a daughter, only for her to be taken hostage and kept beyond his reach.

Everything he touched turned to shit or crumbled to dust.

It was only a matter of time until the well of goodness Bela brought into his life ran dry as well.

Ethan glanced at the blonde in question to see her eyes downcast, locked onto the red carpet which muted their footfalls.

In the effort to interrupt the downward spiral in his mind, Ethan asked, "What does your sister have planned? Any idea?"

"I have no clue," Bela admitted with a frustrated huff. "If it is any consolation, I doubt Cass has anything lethal in store…" Bela trailed off, and her flighty eyes looked his way once before returning to the carpet. "Because Cassie knows I have gotten somewhat attached to you."

An unexpected laugh, soft as it was, escaped Ethan's lips at Bela's choice of wording. He repeated it, an amused smile on his lips abating the mounting dread, "Somewhat attached."

Bela rolled her eyes, nudging him in the ribs as her frown lightened by a smidge.

"What's in the armory?" Ethan asked. He was venturing into unmapped territory, and the more intel he had, the more likely he would survive the night with most of his limbs intact. "Is it really just the obvious? Buncha swords and shields and stuff?"

They took another turn down the long corridors, and Bela hummed her affirmation. "That is essentially it, yes."

A thoughtful pause came and went, and Bela clarified, "The armory is Cassandra's territory, in the same way that the library is Daniela's."

Well, that made perfect sense when Ethan thought about it. Daniela's choice of room spoke volumes about her, and so did Cassandra's. The sadistic, twisted sister set up shop with all the weaponry. The sky was blue. Water was wet. How surprising.

The only way it would have been more apt was if Cassandra preferred to hang out in some kind of torture chamber in the dungeons.

If Cassandra was any bit as protective over her domain as Daniela was, then he was done for. Ethan wasn't just going to be bludgeoned to death by a book – he was going to get cut up by a sword or hacked with an axe, or God knows what Cassandra had in there.

At least accidentally damaging a sword was less likely to happen than accidentally damaging one of Daniela's books. Maybe the odds were more in his favor up here.

Then again, considering how much of a raging bitch Cassandra was, he was probably fucked either way. Simply looking at her wrong may result in re-breaking his ribs and losing another finger.

Not that he would go down quietly if push came to shove. If Ethan's life were put on the line, he still had that knife secure in his pocket, and would only need to find a way to blast Cassandra with the cold. While Ethan had meant it when he promised Bela he wouldn't hurt her family, all bets were off if Cassandra crossed the line. Ethan meant to see his daughter again, and that would be over Cassandra's dead body if it came to it.

Ethan and Bela passed through a door decorated with the Dimitrescu House's golden crest, with the flowers and the crossed swords. It led to a sizeable room with a flight of stairs leading up to the right. Dominating much of this room was a marble statue similar, if not identical, to the one leading to the atelier. A group of stone women held an unfortunate soul down, weapons poised to strike her chest and neck.

A chill ran down Ethan's spine, and he rolled his shoulders in the effort to banish the brief wave of jitters. The statue's serene expression was particularly macabre in the warm lamplight; it did Ethan's nerves no favors, and he turned his attention towards the stairs instead. Less menacing castle décor would be nice for a change.

Similar to Daniela, Bela paid the statue no mind, and led Ethan to the right and up the stone steps. The stairs landed right at the armory.

It was a reasonably large room, and it appeared far neater and tidier than Ethan had expected. Armor stands were outfitted with old, shining gothic suits of armor; they lined the walls and stood off to the sides.

Weapon racks were abundant. Those that were freestanding joined the armor stands, ensuring that there was an open space to walk around the armory's center. Swords, axes, spears, and all other manner of medieval weaponry Ethan could not name populated the racks. Others were mounted on the walls, along with shields of all types – from massive tower shields to kite shields painted with the Dimitrescu crest, and to small bucklers. There was an extensive collection of bows as well, from the older ones fashioned from wood to their modern counterparts built with aluminum or carbon fiber. Loaded arrow quivers hung from hooks on the stone walls; they had as much variety as the bows themselves, with some originating from the olden days, while others looked like they'd been sourced from a modern archery shop.

To one side, of all the things to find, Ethan saw cannons situated by tight firing ports. A couple of cannon balls were neatly piled on the stone floor, ready for loading. Ethan's eyes trailed along that wall, and the sole shelf on that side, which appeared surprisingly empty in contrast to the rest of the stocked armory.

A massive fireplace warmed the room, though Ethan did feel a slight chill when he crossed the threshold of the doorway – as if there was a draft somewhere; yet it was difficult to tell from where, as the blazing fire did a sufficient job at banishing the late evening chill. Considering how fiercely the howling wind blew in the evenings, the fireplace would be working overtime in the hours to come.

As Ethan surveyed the rear right side of the room, he clocked the desks and workbenches, clear of any clutter. Eyes still restlessly scanning, they trailed further along the wall, where a wooden door was in the midst of swinging open, and in stepped Cassandra.

"Ah. Right on time."

It took Ethan an extra second to process her change in appearance.

Cassandra was in the process of tying her brown hair up into a high ponytail. Her face was damp, with loose droplets of water still clinging to her skin. Her makeup had been washed clean off, revealing pale lips – similar to Bela's – and dark, heavy circles under her eyes, previously obscured by concealer.

The ominously dark dress was absent, now replaced by a black rash guard fit for an MMA fighter. She wore a sporty pair of dark leggings, with the only splash of color being yellow stripes running down the sides. Cassandra padded into the room on bare feet, approaching the desk by the crackling fireplace.

Cassandra looked almost normal. Pretty, even.

It wasn't unlike how shockingly ordinary Bela looked when not in that dark dress.

Of course, such thoughts would never materialize into words, and so Ethan wore a sneer and asked instead, "What's with the new duds?" Yet Ethan already had an inkling as their last fight made its way to mind. "Worried I'm gonna ruin another pretty dress?"

Cassandra pulled a drawer open, procuring two pairs of MMA gloves and matching sets of hand wraps. She unceremoniously hurled a set towards Ethan, and he fumbled to catch the gloves as the wraps bounced off his chest and fell to the floor.

"Since all you do is fight dirty, I thought it best to even the odds," Cassandra responded in a matter-of-factly tone.

Recovering the fallen wraps, Ethan straightened up and glared at her. "So you wanted a rematch – is that it? Didn't I kick your ass enough last time?" A cocky smirk made its way to his features as he added, "Didn't think you were so eager to eat dirt again."

Cassandra shot Ethan a dirty look, but in spite of the glower, there was a certain fire ignited in her eyes. She was enjoying this.

"Put the gloves on and we'll see who will be eating dirt," Cassandra shot back. She then switched her focus to Bela, who stood silently by Ethan's side; Cassandra pointed a finger at her sister and told her, "You can stay and watch. Let's call that a show of good faith. The man-thing will not die." A brief pause, and she shrugged, "Probably."

"Cass…" Bela's tone was sharp with warning.

Cassandra turned her eyes to Ethan, and that wicked smile resurfaced. "He will simply be beaten black and blue."

"Yeah, keep dreaming, psycho," Ethan grunted and began tugging his sweater off, leaving him in a dark shirt, his jeans, and his beat-up shoes, which were kicked off next, along with his socks. Bela took a seat on a small bench near the doorway leading out; she readily accepted Ethan's sweater, folding it on her lap. That worried furrow at her brow persisted the entire time.

Normally, now would be the time to empty out his pockets in preparation for the fight. Back with Hound Wolf Squad, that usually meant his wallet and his cellphone being stuffed into his bag before he hit the mats. Today, all Ethan had in his pocket was his knife, which would remain hidden there. With how Cassandra fought, he was better off armed when things would inevitably go south.

The wraps – brand new, Ethan noted – were quickly put to use. He had done this a hundred times with Chris and Hound Wolf Squad before; wrapping his hands before the gloves came on was second nature.

As Ethan looped the supportive fabric around his hands, he leveled his gaze back on Cassandra. "Only way you'll leave a mark on me is if you don't give me a fair fight – again. With that bug shit –"

"Oh, I heard your moaning last time," Cassandra cut him off, quickly wrapping her own hands. "You wanted a fair fight, yes? Fine." A soft chuckle, and Cassandra declared, "I can be fair."

Ethan watched her with no shortage of doubt as he went to work on his second hand.

"I'll pull my punches so that I do not cave your brittle skull in at the first blow – just for you." Cassandra grinned wide, and taunted, "No need to thank me. I know how generous I am."

"Yeah?" Ethan scoffed. "You'll pull your punches, but you'll still zip around like a fucking –"

Cassandra interjected with an irate huff. "No swarm. I shall not shift, and the flies will not disperse the impact of your blows. When you hit me," She paused the wrapping of her hands to raise a finger in correction, "If you hit me, it will be as if you hit any other pathetic human."

Ethan was silent at that. The terms she set forth were as even and fair as could be – but they were only as good as Cassandra's word, and he certainly didn't trust her in any capacity. Her word meant nothing to Ethan on its own. All he could count on was that Bela was here – even if she was quiet as a church mouse and avoided interfering. If everything Bela had said was true thus far, then Cassandra wouldn't go over the top and maim him – not in front of Bela.

Hopefully.

There was no real choice to be made anyway. It was either this, or go from the frying pan and straight into the fires of Lady Dimitrescu's rage. The moment Cassandra ratted them out to the castle matriarch, it was all over.

"A fair fight," Cassandra spoke with an air of finality, "just like you would not shut up about. We can now settle once and for all who the superior fighter is."

There was no way forward but to begrudgingly accept this rematch. Ethan glanced at Bela, who only then decided to meet his gaze. Her frown softened for just a moment – a wordless apology for what he was about to endure.

Bela owed Cassandra for the part she played in averting the threat of Lady Dimitrescu's wrath. If Ethan knew one thing about Bela, it was that she was a woman of her word, regardless of how she felt for him. There was no 'get-out-of-jail-free' card for him today, not after they'd already bailed him out once. The only way forward was through Cassandra.

Ethan began to pull his gloves on and spoke up, "Fine. How's it gonna be then?" He tilted his head towards Bela, "Is Bela playing referee? Are we doing this in rounds, or what?"

Beating Cassandra bloody would be therapeutic, if nothing else. It would be a blatant lie to pretend he wasn't itching to beat Cassandra senseless. He had all the missing fingers and scores to settle with the bitch. Hurting her for a change would feel good, and the anticipation was already mounting in his body.

Bela inhaled audibly, preparing to speak – only for Cassandra to cut in, "Oh, Bela has made it perfectly clear to me that she wants nothing to do with sparring." The brunette flashed a toothy smile that did not reach her eyes; she tilted her head, looking Bela's way. "Isn't that right, sister?"

With an odd sense of fascination, Ethan observed Bela remaining quiet. She crossed her arms, sighed, and frowned as she shook her head. He didn't picture Bela as the type to give her sisters the silent treatment when she was upset. Though if he really had to think about it, he had only recently started seeing the Dimitrescu sisters interact with each other for longer stretches of time. Perhaps this was just par for the course between Bela and Cassandra.

Was the way Bela's frown turned from upset, to bitter, to sad also par for the course? Ethan was not sure. The friction between Bela and Cassandra was one he had yet to fully dissect, and something told him he was barely seeing the tip of the iceberg.

"Let's keep it simple," Cassandra answered his earlier question. "Anything goes, as long as it is nothing underhanded." She shrugged one shoulder, listing off examples, "No eye gouging, no weapons…" The wicked smile that split across her lips was one only Cassandra could conjure. "I'll even avoid kicking you in your man-bits, because that would trivialize the fight even more."

Ethan huffed, and Cassandra quickly added, "And because I'm sure Bela would not like that."

Quick as a whip, Bela snapped, "Watch your tongue, sister."

Unperturbed, Cassandra went on as though she hadn't heard Bela's interjection, "No rounds. We fight until one of us submits, or can no longer fight."

"What do you get out of this, Cassandra?" Bela asked, yet the crease at her brow hinted that perhaps she already knew the answer. "What do you want?"

"I'm glad you asked," Cassandra beamed. "When I win, I get a drink of the man-thing's blood. If," Cassandra tugged her second glove on and raised a finger in emphasis, looking at Ethan, "If you win, you get to walk away with your blood."

Ethan flexed his hands at his sides and cracked his neck this way and that. Replace the flooring with some light padded foam, and this wouldn't be too unlike all the fights with Chris and his squad (ignoring for the moment that Hound Wolf Squad never tried to drink his blood after beating him in a spar). Although in lieu of his blood, the squad did regularly drain his wallet over the beers they would bet over.

Ethan swung his legs forward and back, then side to side to loosen up and oil his joints. Some shorts would be preferable since his jeans limited his flexibility. A mouthguard would not be amiss either, but he had to settle for clenching his jaw and bracing for impact.

Prisoners couldn't be choosers, as Ethan had often reminded himself. Even if the word 'prisoner' lost its meaning day by day, and prisoners seldom had the joy of beating the shit out of their jailers.

Ethan stepped forward to meet Cassandra, only to be stopped by a gentle hand around his wrist. Bela looked up at Ethan, the worry etched in the creases on her forehead and the nervous bite of her lip. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it just as quickly. In spite of her tied tongue, Ethan could vaguely surmise Bela's message – somewhere between take it easy, and be careful.

Cassandra was still Bela's sister, after all. No doubt Bela worried for her safety as much as she worried for his.

Ethan gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand, for whatever it was worth – hoping it would be enough to reassure her.

Not that he intended to pull his punches against Cassandra. He was giving this his all; if he gave any less, Ethan was sure it would be the death of him.

When Bela relinquished her hold on his wrist, Ethan stepped back, turning to face Cassandra. Her hands were on her hips, her weight shifting from one foot to the other, looking decidedly bored.

Do or die.

Ethan stepped around one of the wooden support pillars taking up the center of the armory. He stopped in front of Cassandra, nodding at her. "Okay. Let's –"

His eyes watered from the sudden impact of Cassandra's fist right into his nose. He stumbled a few paces back, quickly blinking his vision clear. His hands shot up defensively – protecting his face now as he scrunched his nose and shook off the abrupt pain.

"Okay," Ethan grunted to himself, before leveling his glare at Cassandra, "So that's how it's gonna be."

The cocky smirk on Cassandra's lips only served to rile his temper up. "Not so nice now that the shoe is on the other foot, hm?"

Ethan rolled his shoulders, sliding one foot forward and taking a proper fighting stance. Cassandra followed suite, adopting a similar stance, and keeping her base squared.

"What – still salty about that sucker punch?" Ethan scowled.

A quick, breathy laugh, and Cassandra gave a sharp shake of her head. "I'm still salty that you're still alive."

Ethan took the initiative, circling his quarry and observing her movements. As he had before, he jabbed at her pride and goaded her temper. "Some big bad hunter you are if you can't kill a pathetic man-thing like me."

When Cassandra's pale lips parted to retort, Ethan struck. He shifted his weight to his rear foot and swung his elbow back as a counterbalance, delivering a swift kick with his lead foot to Cassandra's thigh. His foot produced a dull smack against her leggings, and the sound was joined by Cassandra's pained grunt as she flinched. A step to the side and then she regained her footing, teeth bared at Ethan.

Cassandra launched herself forward, denying Ethan the chance to maintain the initiative. Her fists came swinging in a quick flurry of punches, but the attacks were blatantly telegraphed in her rush to interrupt Ethan's momentum. Ethan ducked, weaved, and stepped back to stay clear of Cassandra's reach. As he took another quick step in retreat, he sent his foot up once more in a parting kick to her midsection. Cassandra was prepared this time, and brought her lead leg up to deflect the kick.

Their collective panting began to fill the air as they circled one another. Cassandra took that time to shoot back, "You are only alive because Mother Miranda needs you alive. If it weren't for her, you would be long dead."

In simple reply, Ethan scoffed, "Bet."

Cassandra appeared to be quite the hand-to-hand striker, so Ethan banked on using kicks as an equalizer. Lobo was a slugger, and an uppercut from the big guy was almost always a knockout. Ethan had adapted to fighting the brute, relying on kicks, quick and powerful alike, to keep him at bay. The same tactic may bear fruit against Cassandra.

He was proven wrong as quickly as Tundra could lock in an armbar – which was to say, mind-bendingly quickly.

Cassandra feinted a low kick with her rear leg, and Ethan raised his knee up – intending to catch her shin with his knee and make her regret it. Instead, Cassandra's leg swung back down, and she bounced off the stone floor with the ball of her foot. Her entire body turned, bending into the movement and swinging her foot into the side of Ethan's ribs with all the violent force of a baseball bat.

Not even tucking his elbow in could disperse the force of the blow, and Ethan was left staggering to the side, a pained grunt sputtering out of his lips. As he gritted his teeth and regained his senses, Ethan took long strides to keep distance from Cassandra – just to buy himself a few seconds to breathe. He was lucky his moldy cells had fully repaired his ribs, otherwise, he would be on the floor, writhing in pain.

It appeared Cassandra had been counting on that, as she frowned at him – at the fact he still stood upright after such a precise and powerful blow to his supposed weak spot.

She did not allow her confusion to show for long, as she appeared to mimic Ethan's brand of mental warfare, seeking to get under his skin. "Forget Miranda, the real reason you are still alive is because this one has a crush on you!"

Ethan didn't need to follow the trail of Cassandra's finger pointing over his shoulder. He could feel Bela seething in silence from across the room.

Their last fight had thoroughly taught Ethan to take advantage of Cassandra's loud mouth. She could talk smack as much as she wanted, and as long as he kept his composure, it would only serve to give him the split-second openings he needed.

Ethan took a quick step forward, leading with a front kick. Cassandra blocked his foot with a sweep of her shin, but was unprepared for the prompt follow up. Ethan's jab came in next, tagging Cassandra in the chin. His momentum came in at full force, and once Ethan started, there was no stopping. Crashing into Cassandra, Ethan swung at her with quick hooks and vicious uppercuts. His blows landed with dull smacks against her cheeks and her chin, only occasionally being blocked in time. Whenever Cassandra stepped back, Ethan would set up with jabs, and follow up with a straight to knock her back.

Cassandra was red in the face and panting from exertion by the time she was able to disengage from Ethan's furious swings. She wiped the sweat and loose strands of hair from her face with the back of her gloves, teeth still bared at him in a snarl.

Ethan took that time to turn his palm up, fingers beckoning Cassandra in the universal gesture of 'come at me, bro.'

The anger split across Cassandra's face, and Ethan just slightly regretted the taunt.

Cassandra lunged forward and Ethan attempted to step back and keep distance. But he was gassed out from his recent flurry, and still needed a moment to catch his breath. Cassandra caught him in the face with a straight, snapping his head back from the impact.

Ethan kept his hands up as the dull impact of Cassandra's gloves bloomed across his face. As Ethan struggled to block and dodge Cassandra's onslaught, the vague acknowledgement settled in his head – that Cassandra really was pulling her punches as she claimed she would. Back in the Great Hall, a single punch had been enough to nearly break his nose and knock his lights out.

Today, Cassandra's blows felt reminiscent of Tundra's. They were swift, and surprisingly strong for someone of her relatively small size. Each punch hurt like a bitch, but it wasn't the superhuman strength Cassandra had displayed in the Hall.

In any case, the less punches to the face Ethan took, the better – and so he quickly sought to remedy the situation.

As another hook came careening forth, he blocked the attack with his hand and arm, then closed the distance between them. Ethan shot one hand around Cassandra's neck, clamping onto her nape. His other hand looped around one arm, and locked onto her shoulder. With a powerful tug, Ethan secured the clinch, using his leverage on her neck to control her.

Ethan wasted no time sending his knee up, smashing into Cassandra's ribs and drawing a soft, pained cry from the latter. She wrestled against his grip like a wild animal, thrashing and wriggling, only for Ethan to send his knees back up – even as his jeans conspired to limit his range. Each time his knee smashed into Cassandra's side, her pained huffs and grunts grew in intensity – and they were the fuel that kept Ethan's fire blazing.

Cassandra's squirming kept them mobile, and was all she could do to get a break from Ethan's knee strikes. She tried to free her arms, only for Ethan to adjust his hold on the clinch and immobilize her means of fighting back.

In a desperate bid to escape the clinch, Cassandra put all her weight against Ethan, pushing against him. Ethan would have seized the opportunity to reap her leg and throw her – but then they crashed into a shelf before he had the chance. Ethan's back lit up with pain for a moment, and he let out a loud grunt as the air was knocked out of him. Cassandra broke one arm free, leaving only her head in Ethan's control in the clinch. She brought her fist crashing against Ethan's side as she pinned him up against the shelf, the wood creaking in protest.

Ethan gritted his teeth as his ribs throbbed with fire from each of Cassandra's powerful hooks; she maintained the pressure as her relentless fist slammed into his side over and over. The shelf slowly but surely tipped over to one side as they smushed against it. It hit the ground with a deafening clatter and crash, and Ethan's back then hit the cold wall, sending a few loose bricks falling to the floor.

"Guess what?" Cassandra hissed in his ear in between breaths of air.

"Fuck off," Ethan muttered, his one hand still struggling to lock down Cassandra's arm.

"The real reason you are still alive is because of me. Bela hardly owes me anything." Cassandra swung her gloved fist into Ethan's side in a particularly powerful blow, "You do."

After gasping for air and slamming his knee into Cassandra's thigh, he grunted out, "The fuck are you talking about?" It took an inordinate amount of restraint to not give in to his inner Mike Tyson and bite Cassandra's ear – the fight was going fairly, and he had to operate within their rules, even if he was willing to do anything to get her to stop talking. "Two of you took care of that shit in the cellar together."

To Ethan's surprise, Cassandra laughed, sounding genuinely surprised. She continued to wriggle against his clinch; she tried to free her head from his grip as they were pressed up against each other, neither of them willing to give the other an inch of ground. With her breath hot and damp against his ear, Cassandra asked, "Is that what she told you?"

The slightest lapse into confusion gave Cassandra the leverage she needed. She wrestled her head and arm free, bringing one of her own hands to clamp over Ethan's neck. It allowed Cassandra to secure the leverage and throw Ethan's technique right back at him. He nearly folded in on himself when Cassandra threw her knee into his side, try as he might to block the impact with one arm.

"I took the fall of my own volition," Cassandra growled into his ear, pausing only to throw another knee into his ribs. She ignored Ethan's pained grunt, and continued, "Bela had nothing to do with sparing you from mother's wrath. That was not her plan." Another knee to the ribs more vicious than the last, and Ethan knew his entire torso was painted purple by now. "There was no plan."

Cassandra twisted in the clinch, swinging an uppercut under his guard and into his jaw. Ethan's head rocked back, and he was powerless to stop Cassandra from pulling them free from the damaged wall and the wrecked shelf. She guided them several long steps back, panting with exertion as Ethan focused on simply staying on his feet and stopping her occasional knee.

"You're fucking with me," was all Ethan managed to grumble out as he struggled to regain the dominant hold in the clinch.

A haughty laugh against his ear, and Cassandra lamented, "It sounds like she's twisting your view on things. Better watch out. That's classic Bela if you ask me." As if to reinforce her point, Cassandra swung another hook into his side – targeting the same spot all her knee strikes had been hitting.

Bela had apparently caught that. Her voice was loud, carrying over Ethan's grunt of pain, and her tone was heavy with warning. "What are you talking about, sister?"

"Oh, don't worry about it," Cassandra turned her head away from Ethan to glare at Bela across the room. She sneered and the venom in her voice made the term sound like an insult, "Sister."

Ethan pressed the advantage while Cassandra was distracted. "You really talk too much, you know that?" Ethan tucked his leg back before springing his knee up to catch her in the side. "Starting to think you just like hearing the sound of your own voice."

Winded from the strike, Cassandra grunted back a simple, "Shut up."

No sooner had the words slipped past her pale lips when Ethan struck. He took an abrupt step back, hands shooting up to secure the double collar tie around her nape. Ethan's forearms pressed against her neck, squeezing tight as he yanked her down and brought his knee up to meet her.

Ethan's bony knee collided with Cassandra's face, and the jarring impact sent her reeling back, dazed and stunned.

The fight had been going on long enough now that Ethan had a feel of Cassandra's fighting prowess. The more distance there was between them, the more adept she was. Striking hand to hand (and foot), Cassandra was at her best. In the clinch, she struggled, but could put up a fight.

He could safely bet that she was worst off on the ground, flat on her back like an overturned turtle.

That was how he usually beat Lobo when that horse of a man was bruising Ethan black and blue. The big guy wasn't so tough when getting the lights choked out of him by his own lapel.

Cassandra staggered a step back, fists swinging wildly in the attempt to defend herself as she fought to regain her senses. Ethan shrugged off a stray punch as he closed the gap. A quick knee to Cassandra's solar plexus had her doubling over and putting her right where Ethan wanted her. He looped one arm over Cassandra's shoulders and turned, shooting his hips into place and bending low. He seized Cassandra's other arm and tugged, swinging one foot back against hers.

Cassandra sailed in a short arc over Ethan's hip; she landed on the unforgiving stone floor hard with a pained cry. Ethan followed her momentum all the way down, his side crashing into her torso and cushioning his fall. Ethan only took a moment to reorient himself – pinning Cassandra down with his side, as he still had his arm circled around her neck now. She was still blinking the stars from her eyes when Ethan began crashing his fist down into Cassandra's face, and she was helpless to stop him.

Ethan got a good half dozen walloping blows onto Cassandra's red face by the time she got a semblance of control back. Her right arm was free, even as she was pinned down, and she used that to swing for the back of Ethan's head. They traded several more strikes as Ethan grew acutely aware of the risk he took taking punches from this angle. Reestablishing a dominant ground position was his best chance.

Ethan swung his legs back and lied flat on Cassandra for just a beat as he maneuvered – using his heavier build to weigh her down and immobilize her. It bought him the precious seconds needed to clamber atop Cassandra in a full mount. His weight settled right on top of Cassandra's center of gravity, effectively pinning her down.

He didn't stop there.

Within moments, his fists resumed crashing down on Cassandra's face, and her gloves meekly came up to try and block the onslaught. The ground and pound was coming in at full force. Ethan's breaths were ragged, and he timed his quick inhales, along with the sharp exhales synchronized with his strikes. He came in with hooks. He drew his fist back and swung down with hammer strikes. He twisted and brought all his might crashing down on her with his elbows.

In the wild, animalistic frenzy of his attacks, Ethan noted somewhere in the back of his mind – Cassandra was still keeping her word. She could easily overpower him with her inhuman strength, or escape by turning into a swarm. She was even consciously suppressing her bugs' ability to disperse the impact of his strikes.

As Ethan threw another straight punch at Cassandra's face, rocking her head back against the stone floor with a dull thump, he noticed it for the first time.

She was bleeding.

Blood was steadily dripping down her nose from a ruptured artery. Loose strands of brown hair clung to her sweaty forehead, and a cut above her brow trickled blood. Her previously pale lips were split, and coated with fresh crimson.

Cassandra wore no cocky smirk and bore no haughty taunt. She only had a pained grimace as she fought to survive the beating she was receiving. Each strike connecting with Cassandra's face brought to the surface something Ethan never thought he would see in her eyes – fear.

And Ethan felt good. Really. Fucking. Good.

It didn't matter that she was a woman of her word. She was a sick fuck that threatened his daughter and stole her bracelet – just to get him to play her fucked up idea of a game.

Ethan swiped at Cassandra's hands, clearing the path to swing his fist down, cracking against her nose.

She tortured him. She ran a fucking knife across his arm and licked and nibbled on the mangled carcass of his arm, all while laughing her ass off.

Ethan dug his left forearm across Cassandra's neck, cocking his right fist back before smashing it into her face.

She sliced his fucking finger off.

A roar of exertion, and Ethan drove his elbow into her face, rocking the back of her head against the unforgiving floor.

Ethan straightened up, breathlessly panting as he looked down at Cassandra's bloodied, bruised face. Her trembling hands remained meekly in place above her face – even if they did little to protect her.

In between pants, Ethan growled out, "Give up yet, bitch?"

Cassandra turned her head to the side, spitting out a thick wad of blood. She bared bloody teeth at him. "Never."

"Good." Ethan wasn't done with her yet. The pain he'd inflicted did not come close to what she deserved.

All the suppressed rage was spilling out now, and the only course of action Ethan had was to cock his fist back and send it down.

Cassandra intercepted the strike this time, latching onto Ethan's wrist and pulling him close. Gassed out from his frenzied attacks, Ethan was yanked right down, pressed up against Cassandra; it negated the threat of his ground and pound.

They wrestled for a moment longer, even as it was painfully apparent how little experience Cassandra had fighting on the ground. She wriggled like a slippery eel, trying to free herself as she kept Ethan close – preventing him from straightening up and resuming the beating. Ethan caught his breath as best as he could, only putting in the bare minimum effort to prevent Cassandra from escaping the full mount. Each time her leg would slip free, he would shift, depressing his knee into her thigh before passing the guard.

Eventually – when Ethan underestimated Cassandra's desperation to escape – she found her opening. Cassandra slipped out of Ethan's mount as he was in the middle of adjusting his position. She grabbed him by the shoulders as she regained her footing – while Ethan was still on all fours. Her hands dug into his clothing, and she forced Ethan to straighten up, only to throw a massive kick right into his midsection.

Ethan staggered back from the force of the kick, thoroughly taken off guard by Cassandra's second wind. His back hit the stone wall hard – hard enough to send another couple of loose bricks falling to the ground with a clatter. Ethan fell onto his knees, catching himself as he clutched one hand over his midsection. As he drew in ragged breaths, he felt a chill against his back – radiating from the damaged wall and the cold winter night that wafted in.

It all clicked into place so potently that Ethan could practically hear the ding in his head.

This was the source of that nearly imperceptible draft he felt when he first walked into the armory. Ethan quickly glanced back – enough to notice how damaged the wall was, even from before he and Cassandra had crashed onto it the first time. Another solid blow would crumble this portion of the wall in its entirety.

An audible growl from Cassandra snapped Ethan's attention back to her. She took a low stance – practically a lunge – as she prepared to charge straight into him, undoubtedly to crash her knee into his body, pinning him to the wall and sending him into a world of hurt.

But with all the momentum Cassandra was about to throw at him, the force would be enough to send them both crashing through the broken wall. They would fall out of the castle and into the frosty night together.

Unless Ethan ended this here and now.

Cassandra's bloody, bruised face was twisted into a look of pure rage – perfectly mimicking his own features when he beat down on her. Her muscles were untensing, and she was propelling herself forward on powerful legs, building momentum to break his ribs with a single knee strike.

All he had to do was use that momentum against her, ducking low and displacing the charge – hurl her right into the wall. If Cassandra didn't fall off the second floor and into the cold, the wall would at least crumble, and she would be stunned by the cold.

The knife was still in the pocket, razor sharp and ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.

It was so easy.

It was so fucking easy to kill Cassandra.

This time, with the cold immobilizing her, there would be no swarm to save her. No unnatural bullshit to stop him from killing her.

This time, she was the prey.

He'd dig his fingers into her hair to secure his grip on her head – lift her up from the rubble of the wall, just enough to expose her neck. He would rip and tear with the knife until her neck was a mangled, slippery carcass, just like she had done to his arm.

He didn't even need the fucking knife. There were enough loose bricks to bludgeon the life out of her. Crush her skull until the remains of her grey matter got stuck under his fingernails.

It was just too fucking easy.

He would enjoy watching the life drain from her eyes until the very last moment.

Ethan's fingers flexed at his sides in anticipation as Cassandra began to barrel forward and unto death.

Then a wisp of golden blonde at the far corner of Ethan's eye – all the way across the room – made him freeze.

His hands tightened into fists, and he watched Cassandra close the distance as if in slow motion, his senses firing into overdrive and processing every single microdetail of the impending attack.

Ethan had promised Bela.

He'd made a goddamn promise not to hurt her family – not with that new knife entrusted to him, and not with anything else. He was bound by his word to Bela.

She would never forgive him for murdering her sister.

Even if Cassandra deserved it. Even if she deserved it a hundred goddamn times over.

No matter how much pain Cassandra had inflicted on the world, or on him. No matter the threats she made to Rose, Ethan could not kill the bitch, even if he wanted to.

Even if she was about to kill herself if she crashed them through the crumbling wall in that moment.

Cassandra's momentum had to come to a dead stop now that her charge was in full effect.

It had to.

There was every reason to kill her, and Ethan had every right to pull the metaphorical trigger on her. He could practically hear the deafening chorus of her countless victims begging him to avenge them. Every ounce of pain Cassandra had brought into this world, she deserved to have thrown right back at her in the most excruciating way possible.

But he couldn't do that. Not anymore.

He was an idiot. He was a goddamn deranged idiot, but he had already chosen his path, and now it was time to walk it.

The world wasn't black and white, and Ethan was not judge, jury, or executioner.

Ethan barely had time to draw in a breath, muscles tensing in preparation.

Contemplating the nature of humanity had rattled Ethan to his core, even if only for several moments – they were still significant, eye-opening moments that were powerful enough to pivot his outlook on the castle.

And Cassandra.

Bela's lingering humanity had been enough to kickstart the chain of events that led to where they were now. It led to Ethan reuniting with Rose and finding all the humanity and kindness lurking between the cracks of this desolate castle. The serendipitous humanity was what kept him alive.

And as he had told himself the other night: if there was a scrap, even just the tiniest sliver of humanity in Cassandra, then it was worth finding.

And she was worth sparing.

Ethan sighed.

This was going to leave a mark.

Ethan lunged forward, shooting low to hook Cassandra's legs and take her down to the floor. He expected the knee to the face before he even saw it coming.

A sharp pain erupted across Ethan's face, and his vision went dark.

When consciousness flickered into place seconds later, Ethan found himself lying face down, limp on the cold stone floor. Bitter copper filled his mouth, trickling down from his nose, which he struggled to breathe through. The pain radiated from his nose bridge, rippling out across his face with each breath he fought to inhale and exhale. His ears throbbed, and over the quick, frantic pulse, he could hear the hurried click of Bela's heels, and the sound of Cassandra's harsh laughter.

All Ethan could do was groan.

Sucking in a breath, Cassandra got her panting under control. "You lose, you insolent man-thing." A hot scoff, and she added, "Trying to take me down as I charged – honestly, what did you think was going to happen?"

Ethan was too busy propping himself up on his knees and nursing his definitely broken nose to reply. Truly, no good deed went unpunished. Save a psycho from killing herself by crashing through a broken wall, and she ridicules you for it.

Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful.

Bela took her spot on the floor by Ethan, gently pulling him up and turning him over. She half-cradled Ethan in her arms, a grimace on her features and her hand on his face. Her finger hovered over Ethan's nose for a beat, only to pull back – likely aware that the visual assessment was more than enough to tell his nose was broken.

Bela parted her lips – as if to ask him if he was okay, but she soon thought better of it – because he clearly was not. She instead turned to Cassandra and snarled at the sight of her smug smile, "What – are you happy with yourself?"

"I am," was Cassandra's chipper reply.

Bela's nose crinkled in displeasure before she turned back to Ethan, and the worry returned to her features.

There was a wry joke on the tip of Ethan's tongue – like asking if this meant he wasn't winning any beauty pageants any time soon. Unfortunately, the sharp, throbbing pain of his broken nose was too much to bear, and simply breathing was a chore. He was better off conserving his energy.

Cassandra promptly sat down next to Bela and released a satisfied sigh. There was a glint of steel in the warm torchlight, and Ethan noted the knife in Cassandra's hand. Bela took hold of Cassandra's wrist before she could begin cutting. A frown persisted on Bela's face as she protested, "Cassie, please. Ethan's had enough."

It was times like this Ethan cursed his moral compass, and his sense of honor. A deal was a deal.

Ethan shook his head, and through the blood and mucus assailing his airways, he stopped Bela, the words sounding like a vague approximation of, "It's okay. She won fair and square."

His mumbling and grumbling may as well have been another language, but it appeared the message was delivered. Bela's pitched brows all but met her hairline as she overflowed with concern – but she relented just the same.

Cassandra yanked her hand free from Bela's grip. A sarcastic "thank you," was uttered with a side-eyed glare. The knife was positioned over the palm of Ethan's hand. It was one of life's small blessings that the blade was so sharp that he barely felt the initial slice.

"Not so much," was Bela's final word of warning.

"Yes, yes. The punching bag will live, calm down." Cassandra rolled her eyes – which looked to be a struggle, given how swollen her face was. Her lips lowered to Ethan's hand, and she caught his blood as it erupted from the cut. A deeply satisfied hum rumbled out from Cassandra's chest, and she held onto Ethan's hand tight as it clamped over her mouth.

Ethan shut his eyes and waited, head tilted back to ease the flow of blood from his nose. He cycled through his breaths (through his mouth, as his nose was too stuffy), counting just like Chris taught him. Anything to take his focus off the throbbing, rippling pain from his nose, and the stabbing heat of the fresh cut.

He centered himself on Bela's hold on him. A gentle hand caressing his face. Her breath fanning his cheek. Loose waves of hair tickling his sweaty face. A pair of fingers over his carotid artery to monitor his pulse. This feeding would not draw on for too long, thanks to Bela.

It could be worse. Ethan knew it could always be worse. There was always a lower low to sink to. When neck deep in the mold of the Baker House, as the night steadily degenerated with every hour that passed, Ethan could never really tell himself there was no way to go but up. Things only got worse when he thought that. The only thought that didn't jinx it was learning to find security in knowing it could be worse, but it wasn't yet.

There was a strange comfort to that certainty – that things were still going to get worse. At least, knowing the impending decline, Ethan could mentally prepare for it. At least it stopped being unexpected. At least, second by second, and moment by moment, Ethan felt a semblance of control.

Or maybe he just had a few too many screws loose from all the times he hit his head; Cassandra only contributed to the number of concussions he was collecting. But coping mechanisms didn't always make sense, and Ethan had long since made his peace with that, especially when it came to himself. Sanity was overrated anyway.

Cassandra soon pulled her lips free from Ethan's hand, which still trickled blood. She released a delighted, satisfied sigh, and she gave Ethan a hearty pat on the shoulder before getting to her feet. She approached one of the intact shelves, casting her gaze over her shoulder as she remarked, "Delicious as ever, man-thing."

Bela clamped a hand over Ethan's hand, applying pressure to staunch the flow. She mouthed a quick, "You okay?"

Ethan nodded weakly in reply, then looked over to Cassandra. She had retrieved a white hand towel and used it to wipe her mouth. After seeing how blood had mended Bela's wounded arm, it was less of a surprise seeing Cassandra in better shape so soon. Dried blood still stuck to Cassandra's face, but her cuts had sealed over, reduced to nothing more than pale, nearly imperceptible scars. All the swelling had receded as well, leaving her face nearly impeccable. There was little evidence left that Cassandra had even been in a fight – like the way her shoulders continued heaving, and the way her sweat-and-blood-matted hair escaped her ponytail, clinging to her pink face.

And the change of wardrobe, of course. It was worlds – eras, as well – away from her usual dress.

Her mouth now clean, Cassandra carelessly tossed the small towel at Ethan, landing it on his hand. The yellow embroidered letter C stared at him from his bleeding hand. Bela swiftly grabbed it, pressing it against the cut on his palm.

"Can you stand?" Bela asked.

Ethan nodded. He winced as Bela looped his arm over her shoulders and helped him get back up to his feet. It was another small consolation that it was only his face and his hand that were banged up. His ribs certainly had enough bruising to last him days, but nothing was broken, that was for sure. Any trouble he had breathing was from the blood and mucus caught up in his broken nose – not from any broken ribs pressing against his insides.

They'd only used his back to destroy a shelf this time, after all. Cassandra had not hurled him off the second floor to turn him into a projectile for the tea table this time around. Progress was progress.

Cassandra appeared to be in a world of her own, with her back to Ethan and Bela. She stretched, circling her neck around and working on taking her gloves and wraps off. There was a noticeable lack of tension in her frame, like she'd been put at ease after their fight.

"I will say, that was a good fight, man-thing," Cassandra remarked. She tossed her gloves to the nearest table, then rolled her shoulders. The wraps began to come undone as she spoke, "Daniela cannot fight her way out of a paper bag. Bela here has made it clear her fighting days are over. So, it's refreshing to have a worthy…" Cassandra's head turned towards the damaged wall. Slowly, her head turned to where she had been standing before she charged Ethan. "… opponent."

Ethan suppressed a scoff.

Took her long enough to figure out her close call.

The roaring fireplace and their combined body heat had done much to shroud the chilly draft. But now that things were settling down, it wasn't as easy to miss the wind seeping through the damaged wall – especially now that Cassandra stood relatively close to it. If that hole were any wider, Ethan had no doubt that the howling wind would snuff out the fireplace, and endanger both bug women in the room.

Slowly, Cassandra turned to face them. Her features were set into a perfectly emotionless mask. The only crack in her poker face was her stiff body language, and the way her pointer finger tapped restlessly against the side of her leggings. Cassandra unclenched her jaw to speak in a cool, detached tone.

"Same time tomorrow. Don't be late."

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please be sure to drop some faves and follows, and leave me a review before you go! It's always a joy to hear from you fellas!

So, once more, I'm sure a couple of you called it before - Ethan and Cass were gonna smack the living shit out of each other in more controlled circumstances. I hope you enjoyed their brutal fight as much as I enjoyed writing it.

And of course, we have the window incident v3. Since the story's inception, I knew that I wanted Ethan to have a moment where he would be in the position to kill each of the sisters, but he consciously stayed his hand. Cassandra's just happened to take the longest to materialize. Which, for Cass, is good, too. If Ethan had not learned all that he had, and had not had his outlook on humanity realigned, he would not have been as inclined to spare her. Had Cassandra's window moment happened before Bela, and maybe even before Dani, her chances for survival would be much slimmer.

Ethan's dark passenger rears its head a little here, no? Anyone feel a little bad for Cass in the ground and pound? I know I alternated between feeling Ethan's righteous anger, and feeling bad for Cass as she was taken out of her element and beaten badly.

There's probably more to point out and highlight, but I'm sure you eagle-eyed fellas will spot it on your own pretty soon anyhow. We're officially starting the Cass arc, and I'm eager to lead you all on this wild journey. Our next chapter is gonna go live, probably, on the weekend of the 29th. But if we're lucky, it'll go up sooner, depending on my workload, and how soon I can get the writing done.

I'll take the time to plug my socials again too, here in this link linktr . ee / sylvesterm . Later this week I'm gonna upload a "podcast" I did which covers how I got into writing, and how I shaped myself into the writer I am today. So if you're interested in learning a little more about me, make sure to click that link and check it out. I'm also planning on doing a Q&A for BAW and myself, so if you have any burning questions about that story, be sure to look at my socials and see how you can send a question in, or just listen in!

That's it from me for now. Once again, thanks so much for all the support. Big love to all of y'all. I'll catch you soon. Stay safe out there!