The storm tore through the night with a fury that rattled the mansion's windows.
Rain pounded like gunfire, thunder rolling heavy as if the sky itself had chosen sides in a war.
Kai sat curled on the couch in his room, laptop dark beside him. The flickering lamp cast weak light, shadows stretching like claws across the walls.
Every boom of thunder dragged him back into memory: bullets tearing glass, Lucias's body pinning him down, the maddening warmth of it.
He hugged his knees tighter, hating himself for the way his chest tightened—not with fear, but with longing.
The door opened without warning.
Kai stiffened. "Didn't I tell you to knock—"
Lucias stepped in, hair damp from the rain, dark shirt clinging to his frame. He looked every bit the storm incarnate—raw, dangerous, irresistible.
Kai's throat went dry. "What are you doing here?"
"Checking the locks," Lucias said simply, striding past him to the balcony doors. He tested the latch, then the windows, his movements efficient. The storm howled louder, rattling the glass as if trying to break through.
Kai glared. "What, afraid the weather's going to kidnap me now?"
Lucias turned, eyes shadowed but sharp. "I don't take chances."
Thunder cracked overhead, and for a moment, the lights flickered out—plunging the room into darkness.
Kai's breath caught. Then he felt a warm grip close over his wrist.
Lucias's voice, low and steady in the dark: "Stay close."
Kai wanted to jerk away, to spit something sharp—but the truth was, his pulse steadied under that touch. And when the lights buzzed weakly back to life, Lucias didn't let go.
Their eyes locked, tension crackling hotter than the storm outside.
Kai swallowed hard. "You're insane."
Lucias's lips curved faintly. "Maybe. But you're safe."
The words lodged in Kai's chest, suffocating in their simplicity.
He yanked his hand free, standing so quickly the chair scraped against the floor. "Don't pretend this is about me. Everything you do is about control."
Lucias didn't deny it. He only stepped closer, his presence heavy, inescapable. "Control doesn't explain why I nearly took a bullet for you."
Kai froze. His heart stuttered. He couldn't meet Lucias's gaze, couldn't breathe under the weight of it.
The storm raged on, but inside the room, silence pressed harder.
---
Downstairs, Jas lingered by the grand windows of the hall, watching the rain blur the outside world into gray streaks.
Mark stood behind them, arms crossed, posture rigid as always. He had been restless all evening, his gaze flicking to the doors and shadows like a soldier expecting an ambush.
"Do you ever relax?" Jas asked softly, turning to him.
Mark's jaw flexed. "Relaxation gets people killed."
Jas stepped closer, their expression tender despite his sharp words. "You've lived like this for so long… don't you ever get tired?"
Mark's eyes softened just barely, but his voice remained low, guarded. "Tired doesn't matter. Responsibility does."
Jas tilted their head, searching his face. "And what about you? Who takes responsibility for you?"
For the first time, Mark faltered. He looked at Jas—really looked—and something unspoken cracked in his gaze.
"You shouldn't care about me," he said quietly.
Jas smiled faintly, stepping closer still. "Too late."
Thunder boomed, and for an instant, Mark's mask slipped. His hand lifted, as if to touch them, but he stopped short—hovering inches away, trembling with restraint.
Jas reached for him anyway, closing the distance. Their fingers brushed his, tentative but steady, and Mark let out a shuddering breath he hadn't known he was holding.
For once, the storm outside seemed quieter than the one inside.
---
Back upstairs, Kai pressed his back to the cold wall, glaring at Lucias.
"You don't get to rewrite this," Kai said, voice shaking. "I don't want you."
Lucias studied him, silent, unreadable. Then he leaned in—not touching, not yet, but close enough for his heat to roll over Kai's skin.
"You don't have to want me," Lucias murmured, his tone like smoke curling through the dark. "But you can't deny me either."
Kai's breath hitched. His chest burned with fury, fear, and something far more dangerous—desire.
The storm crashed again, glass trembling in its frame, but neither of them moved.
Lucias's hand lifted slowly, deliberately, brushing a strand of damp hair from Kai's face. His touch lingered at Kai's jaw, calloused fingers grazing skin far too gently for a man drenched in blood.
Kai shuddered. "You're—crossing the line."
Lucias's gaze locked with his, unyielding. "Good. Then I'm exactly where I want to be."
And though Kai shoved him back, trembling, the truth clawed through the walls he built:
He hadn't wanted him to stop.