The alleyway fell silent after Lorian's arrival—a thick, suffocating silence that made even the wind hesitate.
Juni clung to Elian's sleeve, fingers trembling so violently Elian feared he might collapse. His breath came in small, rapid bursts.
Lorian didn't move closer yet. He stood between the boys and the uncle—a calm, immovable wall. His voice dropped to something dangerously soft.
"We're leaving."
The uncle scoffed, though fear flickered across his eyes.
"You think you can just take him? He's my nephew—he lives under my roof."
Lorian's expression didn't change.
"He's a minor."
He took one step forward.
"And you injured him."
The uncle bristled.
"That's none of your—"
"It is now."
Lorian's voice cut the air cleanly.
There was power behind it—not loud, not aggressive, but the kind of authority that forces the world to listen.
Elian had seen his father command rooms filled with CEOs, government ministers, and investors… but he had never seen him look like this:
Personal.
Protective.
Deadly serious.
The uncle opened his mouth—but Lorian raised a hand, stopping him cold.
"If you want to discuss this formally, we can do that."
His eyes gleamed with quiet threat.
"With police. Lawyers. And full medical reports."
The uncle paled instantly.
Juni flinched, pressing closer to Elian as if bracing for impact.
For once, the uncle said nothing.
The fight drained out of him—not out of regret, but out of fear of consequences he couldn't escape.
Lorian nodded once.
"Thought so."
Then he turned.
"Elian. Juni. Come. Now."
Elian swallowed. He nodded, gently guiding Juni toward the car parked at the entrance of the alley.
Juni hesitated only once—looking back at the cracked balcony, the rusted doorway, the shadows he'd lived in for so long.
Then he stepped forward.
And didn't look back again.
The car interior was quiet, warm, and impossibly clean. Too clean, perhaps, compared to Juni's world.
Juni sat stiffly in the backseat beside Elian, fingers twisting the edge of his uniform.
Lorian drove silently for a while—never raising his voice, never looking angry anymore, just… thoughtful.
Finally, he spoke.
"Juni."
Juni jumped.
"Y-Yes, sir?"
Lorian's tone softened.
"You are safe."
Juni's breath shook.
He stared down at his hands.
"I… I didn't ask for help."
"Elian did."
Juni turned sharply to Elian—eyes wide, wounded, confused.
Elian held his gaze, unflinching.
"Because you needed it."
Juni's lips parted in disbelief.
"You shouldn't have gotten involved."
Elian's heart cracked.
"You shouldn't have been alone."
Juni looked away quickly, biting the inside of his cheek.
Lorian continued, gentle but firm:
"No child deserves to endure fear in their own home."
Juni shook his head violently.
"He's not bad all the time. He just… gets angry. And I— I don't want to cause trouble."
Lorian's voice held sadness.
"Being hurt is not 'causing trouble.' It's called abuse."
Juni's hands clenched tight. He blinked hard—once, twice—trying to hold back tears. Elian reached over and gently covered Juni's hand with his own. Juni stiffened—then slowly, slowly relaxed under his touch.