Ellios stepped into the office.
The room was vast, paneled in dark wood polished to a mirror sheen, its ceiling high enough to dwarf anyone who stood beneath it.
Sunlight filtered through tall windows, cutting sharp lines across the floor like blades laid out for display.
Five men stood inside.
They were arranged instinctively—no one dared sit unless Marcus Blade permitted it.
David. The first older brother.
Leon. The second older brother.
Derrick. The third older brother.
Victor. The fourth older brother.
Damian. The youngest older brother.
Each one stood straight-backed, hands folded or clasped behind them, faces carefully neutral. Years of conditioning showed in the way they held themselves—men raised to orbit around one gravity, one will.
At the center of it all sat Marcus Blade.
The old man reclined in his chair, thin fingers idly scrolling through his phone, expression relaxed to the point of boredom. His white hair was combed neatly back, his suit immaculate. Age had not softened him; if anything, it had sharpened him. Power clung to Marcus like a second skin.
Ellios stopped a few steps inside.
Marcus did not look up immediately.
The silence stretched.
Finally, Marcus lifted his head, pale eyes locking onto Ellios with unsettling clarity.
"Good," Marcus said. "You're all here now."
Ellios bowed his head slightly. "Good morning, Grandfather."
One by one, he greeted the others.
"Brother David."
"Brother Leon."
"Brother Derrick."
"…Victor."
"Damian."
Each reply came mechanically, voices measured, practiced.
"Ellios."
"Good morning."
"Brother."
Victor's eyes lingered a fraction longer than the others, his lips curling in something that might have been a smile—or a threat. There was a bandage on his forehead.
Marcus gestured lazily. "Sit."
They did.
Ellios took his place last, as always.
For a few moments, Marcus spoke of trivialities—market fluctuations, a politician who needed reminding of his place, a merger that would proceed whether the other party liked it or not. The brothers listened intently, nodding at appropriate intervals.
Then Marcus leaned back, steepling his fingers.
"I've noticed something," he said.
All eyes turned to him.
"You boys don't spend enough time together," Marcus continued. "Not as men. Not as family."
Ellios's stomach tightened.
Marcus smiled faintly. "So I've decided that today will be… male bonding time."
Leon chuckled softly. David immediately agreed. Derrick murmured approval.
Victor grinned.
Ellios remained silent.
Marcus's gaze slid to him. "You seem hesitant."
Ellios inhaled. "Grandfather… what about my sister?"
The room went still.
Marcus's expression hardened just enough to be noticeable.
"That," he said flatly, "is not a present concern."
Ellios opened his mouth—
"Enough," Marcus cut in, voice calm but absolute. "You will do as you're told."
Ellios closed his mouth.
"Yes, Grandfather."
The field stretched wide and green beneath the open sky, meticulously maintained to perfection. Golf equipment had already been laid out—custom clubs, gloves, chilled drinks waiting nearby.
Marcus walked ahead, supported by a cane he did not truly need. The brothers followed, laughter beginning to loosen their posture now that they were outside the suffocating office.
Ellios trailed behind.
"Grandfather, your swing last time was legendary," David said eagerly to please.
Marcus scoffed. "Legendary because you were all terrible."
Leon laughed. "We learn from the best."
Victor added, "We should record today. For memories."
Marcus smirked. "Perhaps."
They began to play.
Marcus took the first swing—steady, precise, flawless despite his age. The ball soared beautifully across the field.
Applause followed instantly.
"Incredible," Derrick said.
"Still unmatched," Damian added.
Ellios picked up a club and played silently. His swing was controlled, efficient. The ball flew far, landing cleanly.
No one commented. Not like he needed those fake pleasantries.
They moved across the field, conversation flowing easily among the brothers—all of it orbiting Marcus. Praise, laughter, anecdotes carefully chosen to please.
Ellios remained on the periphery.
At one point, Marcus slowed his steps until Ellios was beside him.
"How has it been?" Marcus asked casually, eyes fixed ahead.
"It's Okay," Ellios replied.
Marcus glanced at him. "Just okay?"
Ellios hesitated. "Yes."
Marcus hummed. "Do you have anything you wish to say to me?"
Ellios thought of Alice. Of the green water. Of the leash tightening around his throat.
"…Nothing important," he said.
Marcus stopped walking.
The brothers froze.
Marcus turned slowly, studying Ellios with unnerving focus.
"That's unfortunate," Marcus said. "Because I have something to say to you."
Ellios's pulse spiked.
Marcus smiled. "I was told you've acquired a new male pet."
The words hit like ice water.
Ellios's grip tightened around the club.
Victor laughed lightly. "It's true, Grandfather. I saw him myself."
Ellios cursed internally.
"There's no such thing," Ellios said evenly. "You've been misinformed."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Have I?"
Victor stepped closer, voice dripping with false concern. "Brother, there's no shame. Everyone has… needs."
Ellios turned to him sharply.
"Enough." Marcus's cane tapped once against the ground.
Silence fell.
Marcus smiled again—but this time, it did not reach his eyes.
"We will discuss this later," he said. "After all… male bonding should not be interrupted."
Ellios lowered his gaze.
"Yes, Grandfather."
As they resumed, Ellios felt it clearly now.
The knives were already out.
And again, they were pointed very precisely at him.