Dante punished him with silence.
Since the moment his companions had found him, Dante had barely spoken a word to him. Or should Helios say: only the bare minimum? No—not even that. Dante had simply ignored him the entire time. Not a single glance, not a single word, no reaction to anything Helios had said.
It annoyed Helios, and it distracted him.
While he rummaged through the archives, his mind was everywhere—anywhere but on the task at hand. He had to force himself to focus on the documents piling up in front of him. Somehow, he still managed to extract the essentials: the formulas for every substance ever developed and tested in this lab.
And then there were the case files—including Dante's.
Helios would have liked to take his time and read through everything thoroughly. The stories, the methods, the background. But time was against them.
All that was missing now was Ambrosia, and somehow, they still had to find a way out.
It was the only substance whose formula he hadn't been able to find. So before they disappeared, they had to steal the substance—urgently. There was no other way, and he certainly wasn't going to leave without this supposedly ultimate remedy.
Helios stood up, gathered the formulas so they wouldn't scatter, and packed everything into his bag. Then he limped toward the door that led to the hallway where Dante and Spider were waiting.
He wasn't keen on being carried by Dante again. The atmosphere between them had been tense since their reunion—more than tense. It was icy. And that wasn't just because of the silence. It was because of what had happened.
Damn it, he had enjoyed the torture.
So why did he want to apologize to Dante? That wouldn't make the urge to kill disappear, and besides, it wouldn't help patch things up with Dante either.
He wasn't even sorry he had done it. The researcher hadn't mattered to him. Just like most people didn't matter to him. He couldn't care less that the man had begged for his life and tried to stop him by bringing up his family.
Why should Helios have responded to that?
He had needed information, and it didn't matter how he got it, as long as he got it.
And yet, Dante's gaze wouldn't leave him alone.
That one brief flash in his eyes—horror, disappointment, maybe even disgust. The warmth with which Dante had once looked at him was gone. Erased. He didn't believe that this giant of a man would ever look at him with a spark of affection again.
Something in that room had broken irrevocably.
And it would probably never be fixed.
Helios took a deep breath before placing his hand on the doorknob. It didn't matter how Dante would look at him in the future. He would keep his promise and make Dante mortal again. But he wouldn't cure him of his immortality until Dante had helped him capture Belladonna.
Capture, not kill.
That bastard was going to pay—slowly—for what he had done to him.
Helios decided to put his mask back on. To shield his thoughts and emotions and be exactly who everyone knew him to be. Even around Dante. There was no point in dwelling on the situation. Or in wasting any effort on it.
The cat was out of the bag, and it was far too late to try and shove it back in.
How did one even make up with someone?
In his life so far, he'd never really had to apologize. He hadn't had to put much effort into his friendship with Penelope, and Davis had loved him no matter how he behaved. A kiss or a well-placed touch, and they stopped talking. They just lost themselves in each other. Sometimes gently, sometimes more aggressively—but afterward, things had always somehow been okay between them.
So what was he supposed to do with Dante?
He certainly wasn't going to sleep with him.
And he definitely wasn't going to kiss him again. Especially not now.
At least Helios was aware that that would be the completely wrong approach—and would probably only make things worse.
So he stuck to being who he always was.
He would keep his promise, get his revenge, and then Dante could go wherever he wanted. Helios would go back to living his life as before—no surprises, everything within controlled boundaries.
Good. That settled it.
He pressed down the handle and opened the door.
"How's it looking?" he asked as he stepped into the hallway.
No one shoved him back into the room, no orders were barked. So the corridor was safe.
"All clear. I took out a few more guards earlier. Are we done here?" Spider asked.
"Almost. There's one more thing I need," Helios replied.
Spider sighed. "We've been down here almost ten hours. We should probably wrap this up soon."
"Oh yeah? I thought you could stay awake for three days straight," Helios countered, raising an eyebrow.
Spider gave him a crooked grin. "Pretty sure that was a different context. Down here, though, you can only get tired." He stretched. "Alright, where do we need to go?"
Dante knelt down in front of Helios again so he could climb onto his broad back. For a moment, Helios just stared at that back before climbing on with a resigned sigh. He could barely walk; even if he tried to ignore the pain, he wouldn't get far. So he had no choice but to endure Dante's closeness.
Why were human relationships always so damn complicated?
He almost let out a sigh of relief when Dante stood up and his injured foot was no longer bearing weight. But he decided not to do anything that might provoke Dante. Carrying him around likely wasn't pleasant for Dante either.
As they moved through the corridors, Spider filled him in. While Helios had been in the archives, Spider had done two patrols. He had re-secured the emergency exits, taken out two groups of guards, and chained a few frightened researchers together with improvised handcuffs. Despite all his bravado, he seemed to have spilled surprisingly little blood—at least, he hadn't killed anyone he didn't absolutely have to.
As far as Helios was concerned, the whole complex could go up in flames. Maybe he'd "accidentally" start a fire before they left. Or he could secretly order Spider to do it.
Maybe he'd just bring it up casually.
Who or what was going to stop him?
He knew exactly how much Dante hated this place, and they could make sure these experiments were never resumed.
All they had to do was destroy everything and kill every last person involved. Simple—if you looked at it without emotional complications.
Just the thought of getting in his father's way like that thrilled him beyond words. He liked imagining his father completely losing it when his secret research facility went up in smoke. Especially if he never found out that it had been Helios who not only destroyed the lab, but also created an antidote to the formula—and made the only immortal who had ever survived the experiments mortal again.
Helios didn't want to think about the real reason behind all of this.
Damn it, if he had submitted to his father's will, he'd be the one down in this underground lab right now—developing and researching that very substance.
And not just that.
His father would probably also try to force him to create the substance he'd been pestering him about ever since his mother died.
Helios pushed the thought away immediately. He would never bow to his father on that matter.
Dante suddenly stopped and pressed himself against the wall. Helios heard Spider's soft, hurried footsteps—then silence. They stood there in complete stillness. Helios could feel Dante's shoulders shift slightly beneath him. He seemed tense.
"What is it?" Helios whispered.
"Whatever it is you want, Helios—we probably should've grabbed that first," Spider murmured. "Though I wouldn't mind taking them all out."
"How many?" Dante asked, directing the question at Spider.
Spider carefully peeked around the corner, his body taut like a big cat before a leap. "At least eight guards," he whispered. "Well armed. But not impossible."
Dante gave a single nod. "Doable."
"Got any of those pretty sleep bombs left?" Spider asked Helios.
"No, I'm out," Helios replied. He sighed. "All I have left is a sedative, and that's definitely not enough for all of them."
Spider looked Helios over for a moment, his eyes landing on the injured foot. "You'll have to wait here for us. If our big guy takes you along, he can't fight."
"How stupid do you think I am?" Helios scoffed. "I had no intention of tagging along while you two go play soldier. I can do without the stress and chaos, thanks."
Spider grinned at him. "Just don't run off this time. We really don't have time for any more detours."
"Where exactly do you think I'm going to go with this foot?" Helios replied, raising an eyebrow. "I want what they're keeping in that room. Besides, I need to finally take proper care of my foot before I do more damage than there already is. You don't get paid to talk, Spider—get moving and put those guys to sleep."
Spider snorted softly and gave an exaggerated bow. "Your wish is my command."
Meanwhile, Dante set Helios down. Of course, he didn't say a word—again. Helios, on the other hand, took the opportunity to whisper a few words into his ear.
"There should be a substance in that room called 'Ambrosia.' We need it—and the formula. If you only find the substance, that's fine, I'll figure out what they used to make it. Spider can't know about this, okay?" he said, so quietly that the assassin couldn't hear him.
Dante gave a brief nod, and with that, the two men charged off to take out the guards. Helios leaned against the wall and waited to be picked up again. His foot no longer obeyed him—he couldn't go anywhere on his own.
From where he was, he couldn't see anything, but he could hear them. He heard the surprised shouts of the guards, the orders they barked at each other, and the thuds of fists connecting. Bodies hitting the ground, things breaking—and if he listened closely—even the sound of bones snapping.
They tried to fight back against Dante and Spider, but as expected, they didn't stand a chance.
Helios was starting to wonder why there weren't any more competent men down here.
His father usually placed great value on good personnel.
As the sounds of the fight grew fainter and finally ceased altogether, Helios tried to distract himself from the throbbing pain in his ankle by focusing on the stains on the wall opposite him. If he concentrated, he could make out patterns in the blotches—but it didn't really help. He was quite intelligent, but unfortunately, that didn't mean he had a particularly creative mind.
He was almost relieved when Dante returned and silently lifted him up. This time, he carried him in his arms, not on his back. When they reached the room, Helios grabbed onto Dante before he could be set down again. He shook his head.
"I can't walk anymore," he said. "Spider, you stay out here and keep watch. We'll be back in a moment."
Spider nodded, though his tone was serious. "Make it quick. That little show we just put on wasn't exactly quiet."
Helios rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I'm more surprised we're not already under constant fire. They know we're here. And they know we haven't left the complex yet."
"Exactly why we need to move now," Dante said shortly—his voice low, calm, but firm.
Helios looked up at him and nodded slowly. "Alright. Let's go."
___
A small vial of Ambrosia was all he had found. Nothing more. No formula, no hidden stash of the substance. Just that one damned dose. Helios swore he would protect that vial with his life.
If it shattered for any reason, he could forget about his deal with Dante.
Behind them, flames consumed the lower levels. How that had happened, Helios couldn't explain. Sure, he'd considered setting the place on fire himself, but he hadn't done it—and he hadn't ordered Spider to, either.
The alarm blared without pause, pounding through the corridors like a deranged heartbeat. Researchers and guards ran around in panic, crashing into each other, screaming, fleeing.
Spider, for once, was silent—which, in itself, was already a red flag. With unexpected efficiency, he fought off any would-be attackers, crushing bones, slicing through flesh, moving like a shadow made of violence.
Every so often, someone tried to stop them. Usually people Dante and Spider had already dealt with. It irritated Helios to no end that these bastards kept showing up again.
If they'd just killed them outright, they could've made their escape a lot more calmly.
Helios glanced at his wristwatch. It was well past midnight.
Not that the time mattered. At this hour, no one would care how they looked—or more importantly, how they smelled. Helios had washed his face, forearms, and hands at some point, but he was more than aware that the blood of his victims still clung to him. Along the way, they'd also picked up his coat again. At least now the bloodstains on his shirt were covered.
Helios was done. He wanted to treat his foot. He wanted a shower. He wanted rest, to finally visit Penny's grave, and then start uncovering the secret behind Dante's immortality.
He had no desire to keep fighting these annoying guards. It was almost surprising how much work they still had to do—the entire facility had fallen into pure chaos. Breaking in had been easier than mixing a basic compound.
If anything went wrong now—or if someone caught them off guard—it could mean his death.
He clung to Dante to keep from falling.
Dante was his human meat shield, who absolutely wouldn't die, and could at least shield him from everything for a while. He would get out of here alive. Dante needed him, no matter how angry he was.
And Helios needed Dante—to die for him, if necessary. Nothing more, nothing less. Beyond that, Dante was just a means to an end. A tool to catch Belladonna.
Helios rested his forehead against the back of Dante's neck. The position was far from comfortable—especially with the way Dante was running, causing Helios' forehead to smack against him over and over again.
He exhaled slowly.
Exactly... this was for the best.
There was nothing between them.
Helios didn't want a relationship with Dante.
Dante wasn't even his type.
"I was starting to think they'd just let us walk out," Spider suddenly laughed as they headed toward a massive metal door.
Helios lifted his head and looked ahead. The door connected the facility to the hidden basement beneath the library. In front of it: armed guards. And corpses. Bodies were strewn across the floor like carelessly discarded dolls. Helios recognized some of them as former researchers. The air was thick with the stench of burnt flesh, blood, and fear.
Ah... so that's why the place is burning down.
They must have received the order to destroy all evidence. It made sense—especially when he considered who had always run this place. The risk was too great for his father to leave any survivors. To preserve his prestige, he had to ensure no one could ever link him to incriminating materials.
Thankfully, Helios had snatched up everything that looked even remotely important.
But why only now? Why hadn't they attacked them back in the archives? Helios had been in that room far too long—it would have been easy to trap them there. Spider and Dante wouldn't have run. They would have protected him to the death.
The weapons were now pointed at them.
No—this was not the time to get lost in thought.
"Back!" Spider shouted, his voice cracking through the air like a whip.
The moment the first shot rang out, Spider and Dante dove aside almost simultaneously. They leapt back into the corridor they'd come from. More gunfire followed, bullets slamming into the wall where they had just stood.
There was no alternate path. No emergency exit. No other way out besides the direct route—straight past the guards. Trying to fight their way through by brute force would definitely get them killed. Well, everyone except Dante, at least.
Normally, Helios would've suggested trying to lure the guards into a trap. Buy time. But with the fire creeping steadily upward, that wasn't an option. They had to get past the guards somehow—but there was no way the two of them could fight while carrying him.
Helios was dead weight now, completely useless without his substances—especially with his foot giving out completely.
"Put me down, Dante," Helios said.
"No," Dante replied firmly.
Oh, so he can talk to me after all.
"This is the only way out, and they seem ready to kill everything and everyone in here," Dante said grimly.
"This is probably our punishment for not killing anyone," Helios said flatly, voicing the thought he'd had earlier. He knew the words would hurt Dante. He didn't care.
"I know…" Dante murmured quietly. No defense. No anger. Just the painfully clear weight of guilt.
"We knew the risk. I would've been surprised if we'd just walked in and out of here," Helios went on, calmly analyzing their situation. "Now we need to figure out how to get past them. They seem to want to keep us from reaching the exit—otherwise, they'd already be here."
"You need to hide in one of the nearby rooms. At least until we've taken those guys out," Spider said. "We'll be able to fight much more freely if you're out of the way."
Helios raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh? Worried I might get killed?"
"Considering I've only been paid my advance: yes," Spider replied with a sidelong, amused glance. "Also, you're completely useless right now."
"I can take care of myself just fine," Helios said, annoyed.
Spider listened carefully down the corridor, completely ignoring the remark. "Doesn't sound like anyone's coming. Shame—we could've made better use of the chaos," he muttered under his breath.
"You'll manage," Helios said as Dante set him down in a nearby room. "Do you need the last sedative injection?"
"Keep it—for emergencies. It's the only way you can defend yourself now, anyway," Spider said, waving him off.
He scanned the room with a practiced eye, weighed a few items—a hole punch, a rusty pair of scissors, a piece of wire—and laid what he apparently considered useful in front of Helios on the table.
"We should get going. The heat's getting worse," Dante growled.
"Right away," Spider replied shortly. Then he looked at Helios seriously and held out his hand expectantly. "Give me your shoelaces."
Helios raised a brow. "Why?"
"So I can practice tying bows, obviously," Spider replied sarcastically. "It's not like you're gonna need them right now."
With an annoyed sound, Helios leaned forward, pulled the laces out of his shoes, and handed them to Spider. He placed the shoes themselves on the table beside him. His ankle felt strange without the shoe—at once free, yet incredibly unstable. At least the throbbing had eased a bit. Still, he cast a wistful glance at his shoes. Not only had they been quite expensive, but they were also easily the most comfortable pair he owned.
"Have fun with them—and if there's any weird crap stuck to them afterward, you'll pay for it," he said.
Spider just grinned and tied the laces around his wrists. Chances were, one or two guards would soon die a slow, cruel strangulation. He pocketed a few more items, and finally grabbed a metal letter opener that had been lying on a desk in front of Helios.
"That should do it. Let's get started," Spider said and left the room without further delay.
Dante sighed and followed him. Before he stepped out, he cast one last glance back at Helios. His expression unreadable.
Helios smiled and gave him a little wave goodbye, at which point Dante closed the door, leaving Helios alone in the small office.
Helios's smile faded. It was warm, and the smell of something—flesh, most likely—burning, hung in the air. He'd never expected that the smell of a burning human wouldn't be worse than that of a burning animal.
He wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his coat. Then he shrugged the coat off and used the time to adjust his makeshift splint.
They'd better be quick. I just want to take a damn bath.
He leaned back, listening to the distant cacophony of sirens, gunfire, and fire.
And waited.