Ellios's car rolled through the iron gates of his residence just past midnight, the tires whispering over perfectly trimmed gravel. The lights along the driveway flickered on automatically, bathing the sleek modern structure in a soft white glow. To anyone else, it would look like safety. Wealth. Control.
To Ellios, it felt like a cage closing.
The car barely came to a stop before Gabriel was there, opening the door with a sharp, worried look etched across his face.
"Sir," Gabriel said immediately, eyes scanning Ellios from head to toe. "Where were you today? You dismissed me, turned off tracking, and didn't answer calls for hours. You really shouldn't do tha—"
Ellios stepped out, rubbing his temples. "Gabriel," he said quietly. "Why are you so worried?"
The question caught Gabriel off guard. His mouth opened, then closed. For a brief second, the professional mask slipped, revealing something raw underneath.
"Because you never do that," Gabriel said. "And when you do, it's usually because something's wrong."
Before Ellios could respond, hurried footsteps echoed from the staircase inside.
"Sir!" Judy's voice rang out, sharp with urgency.
She nearly ran down the steps, tablet clutched to her chest, her usually composed hair slightly out of place. "Sir, we have a problem."
Ellios raised a hand.
"Stop," he said, his voice firm but exhausted. "Both of you. I'm too tired for this right now."
Judy froze. Gabriel straightened instinctively.
Ellios walked past them without another word, the faint echo of his shoes against marble following him inside. He didn't look back.
The hot water cascaded over Ellios's shoulders, steam filling the bathroom as he stood beneath the showerhead, eyes closed. The day clung to him like a second skin—every word, every glance, every sensation refusing to wash away.
Hastur.
The name surfaced unbidden.
Ellios leaned one hand against the tile, breath hitching as memory struck him again: strong arms holding him steady, a firm chest at his back, that low voice murmuring near his ear.
Why so fast?
His fingers curled unconsciously.
"Enough," Ellios whispered to himself.
He had hidden his feelings for so long—locked them away so tightly—that when someone finally noticed, finally touched the truth beneath the armor, it had flooded out of him all at once. Overwhelming him.
Too much. Too fast.
He pressed his forehead against the cool tile, forcing his breathing to steady.
This is dangerous, he reminded himself again. You know where this leads.
Images flashed in his mind—classroom whispers, laughter that followed him down hallways, the look on Mathew's face when betrayal replaced tenderness.
And Victor's smile.
Ellios shut off the water abruptly.
Wrapped in a towel, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. The man looking back at him was polished, composed, powerful—CEO of Blade Group, billionaire, heir.
But his eyes told a different story.
Tired. Fractured. Still bleeding in places no one could see.
After dressing, he made his way to the dining room, the scent of freshly prepared food greeting him. The long table felt emptier than usual, though he was rarely one for company during meals.
Judy stood near the sideboard, visibly restraining herself from speaking. Gabriel waited nearby, arms crossed, posture alert.
Ellios sat.
"Go on," he said. "You can talk now."
Gabriel immediately shook his head. "Sir, at least eat first."
Ellios glanced at him. "Why."
"Because it," Gabriel replied carefully, "won't get better if you hear it on an empty stomach."
Judy nodded vigorously. "Please, sir."
Ellios sighed, but picked up his utensils. He ate methodically, each bite tasting dull despite the food being prepared perfectly to his preferences. Judy watched the clock. Gabriel watched Ellios.
When Ellios finally set his fork down, he looked up. "Report."
Judy inhaled. "The Old Master was here."
The words struck like a physical blow.
Ellios straightened unconsciously, spine going rigid, shoulders pulling back as if bracing for impact. His fingers tightened around the napkin in his lap.
"When?" he asked.
"This evening," Judy continued.
"Around seven."
Ellios's jaw clenched.
Gabriel stepped forward. "He asked where you were, sir."
"And you?" Ellios asked quietly.
"I told him I didn't know," Gabriel replied, unease flickering across his face. "Which… really displeased him."
Judy swallowed. "The Old Master instructed that you visit him tomorrow morning."
Silence settled over the room.
Ellios stared at the table, mind racing. Marcus Blade did not tolerate absence. He did not tolerate mystery. The man wanted to know his whole schedule wether his social life or private life.
Tomorrow morning.
He felt that familiar knot twist in his stomach.
"I see," Ellios said at last.
Judy and Gabriel exchanged a glance.
"You should be careful," Judy said softly.
Ellios looked up at them, really looked at them.
Judy—efficient, sharp, endlessly loyal. He knew she liked him. Not professionally. Personally. He had seen it in the way she lingered, the way her voice softened around him.
He felt guilt every time he noticed.
Because he could never return it.
Gabriel—steady, protective, infuriatingly perceptive. The closest thing Ellios had to a friend.
Someone who argued with him, worried over him, stood between him and danger without hesitation.
Both of them had been given to him by Marcus Blade. Assigned.
Meant to monitor him. Watch him. Report all about him.
And yet, somewhere along the way, something strange had happened. Fate played and closeness brought loyalty. Trust.
Ellios smiled faintly. "There's nothing to worry about," he said, voice gentle. "I've dealt with worse."
Neither of them looked convinced.
"I'm going to rest," Ellios added, standing. "Tomorrow will be… long."
Judy nodded. Gabriel hesitated, then stepped aside to let him pass.
As Ellios walked toward the stairs, he felt their eyes on his back—concerned, protective, powerless to intervene.
His bedroom was quiet, lights dimmed automatically as he entered. Ellios shut the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly.
Tomorrow.
The Blade family estate loomed in his thoughts like a shadow. That house.
He moved to the window, gazing out at the city lights stretching endlessly below. Somewhere out there was a yellow-lit nightclub. Somewhere out there was a man named Hastur who saw too much, touched too deep.
Ellios closed his eyes.
The Blade family will smile with knives hidden behind their backs.
Every word was a test. Every gesture a trap. They watched for weakness the way predators watched for blood.
He had learned young that trust was a liability there.
That love was leverage.
That survival meant smiling while sharpening your own blade.
Ellios pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady but heavy.
Tomorrow, he would walk back into that house.
Tomorrow, he would face Marcus Blade.
And whatever warmth he had felt tonight—whatever dangerous, hopeful spark Hastur had ignited—would have to be buried again.
Because in that family, hesitation meant death.
And Ellios, had survived too long to forget that.