Chapter 72:Veil of Salvation

The sterile, cold hallway of the hospital stretched out before them, the scent of disinfectant hanging heavy in the air. Lucas walked ahead, his posture straight, but Dimitri could sense the tension coursing through him. Something demonic simmered beneath the surface of that calm facade, and Dimitri knew exactly what it was.

Lucas didn't say a word as they made their way to Ryan's room, his gaze fixed straight ahead, his smirk barely concealed. But Dimitri wasn't blind. He'd seen that look before—too many times to count. The brief flicker in Lucas's eyes that betrayed his true intentions, the way his fingers twitched as if they were aching to strangle something. Or someone.

Ryan, in this case.

Dimitri stayed quiet, amused by Lucas's attempt to mask his darker urges. He could almost feel the energy rolling off Lucas, the anticipation building with each step closer to Ryan's hospital room. Dimitri didn't mind. He liked watching Lucas like this—liked watching him pretend to be something other than the monster they both knew he was. It was entertaining in a way. Almost… thrilling.

Lucas glanced sideways at him, perhaps checking for any reaction, any sign that Dimitri suspected something. But Dimitri kept his face neutral, his lips pressed into a faint, unreadable smile. He wouldn't give anything away. Not yet.

"Ryan's still out cold, right?" Lucas asked casually, though there was an edge to his voice. It was the first thing he'd said since they arrived.

"Yeah," Dimitri replied with a shrug. "Shouldn't be waking up anytime soon if left undisturbed ." He kept his tone light, watching Lucas closely out of the corner of his eye, curious to see how far Lucas would go without realizing he was already caught.

Lucas nodded, his smirk deepening. "Good."

Dimitri couldn't help but enjoy this little dance. Lucas thought he was being so careful, so sly, hiding his true intentions under the guise of indifference. But Dimitri saw it all—the barely restrained psychosis lurking just beneath that charming surface. And, in a twisted way, Dimitri appreciated it. He liked seeing Lucas in his element, liked the thrill of knowing what Lucas would do next, even if Lucas didn't realize how transparent he was being.

As they neared the door to Ryan's room, Lucas slowed down slightly. The tension between them thickened, though Lucas seemed completely unaware that Dimitri was in on the secret. Dimitri almost wanted to laugh at how obvious it was. But instead, he stayed silent, enjoying the game.

Lucas paused, his hand hovering just above the door handle, his eyes narrowing in mock thoughtfulness. "You think the doctors will mind if I pop in?"

Dimitri arched an eyebrow, playing along, though his pulse quickened. "You planning on leaving a get-well card or something?"

Lucas chuckled, though it was a sound devoid of humor. "Something like that."

Dimitri leaned against the wall, watching with casual disinterest, as if this were just another routine visit. But he could feel the electricity in the air. Lucas's restraint was hanging by a thread, and Dimitri was content to watch it unravel. He wouldn't stop him. Why would he?He knew what Ryan had done by putting two and two together that night Lucas had called him. Ryan deserved what was coming, and Lucas? Well, Lucas was just being Lucas.

Lucas glanced back at Dimitri once more, searching for a sign of objection. When he found none, he smirked again, his fingers tightening around the door handle. "You're not going soft on me, are you?" His tone was teasing, but his eyes glinted with something sharper.

Dimitri shook his head, hiding a smile. "No. Go ahead."

It was almost amusing how Lucas thought he was being so clever, so subtle. Dimitri could see the shift in his demeanor, the way his psychotic tendencies were trying to claw their way out, but Lucas was keeping them at bay.... barely.

Lucas stood at the door, his hand gripping the cold metal handle as he turned to Dimitri with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Stay out here," Lucas said, his voice soft yet commanding. "I won't be long."

Dimitri didn't argue, not that Lucas expected him to. He only gave a casual nod, leaning back against the wall like this was just another mundane moment. But Lucas knew better. Dimitri wasn't the type to waste time on things he didn't care about, and right now, he was watching—waiting for whatever Lucas would do next.

Lucas pushed open the door, the quiet creak barely breaking the stillness of the hall. He slipped inside and closed it softly behind him, shutting out the world beyond. Inside the room, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound, a fragile reminder of life clinging to Ryan's battered body.

Ryan lay there, small and fragile, his face almost ghostly pale under the sterile glow of the overhead light. Bandages swathed his head, and bruises peeked out from beneath them—dark patches of pain that hinted at the torment he'd endured. His arms rested at his sides, limp and trembling even in sleep. The sight of him like this—so broken—stirred something in Lucas that he didn't fully understand. Sympathy? Regret? It was hard to say.

As Lucas moved closer, his steps were careful, quieter than usual. He didn't want to disturb the uneasy peace that seemed to hang in the air. His eyes drifted over Ryan's bandages, the dried blood that had seeped into the cloth, and the shallowness of his breathing. There was something profoundly vulnerable about seeing someone who had once been so full of life now reduced to this.

When he reached the side of the bed, Lucas hesitated, his hand hovering over Ryan's, unsure if he should touch him. His fingers twitched before he finally withdrew them, letting them settle at his sides. "Ryan," he whispered, his voice low and gentle, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the moment.

There was no response. Ryan remained still, lost in the grip of a restless sleep.

Lucas frowned, leaning in slightly, trying again. "Ryan. It's me, Lucas."

This time, Ryan stirred, his eyelids fluttering as he fought to wake. The groan that escaped him was soft, a sound of pain that Lucas could feel deep in his chest. His heart clenched with something close to guilt. He hadn't done this to Ryan, but the feeling lingered all the same.

When Ryan finally opened his eyes, they were unfocused at first, clouded with pain and confusion. But when his gaze landed on Lucas, there was a flicker of recognition, followed quickly by a flash of fear. It was brief, but Lucas saw it.

"Hey," Lucas said softly, offering a small, reassuring smile. He sank into the chair beside the bed, folding his hands in his lap to keep from fidgeting. "You're awake."

Ryan's voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. "Lucas?"

"Yeah, it's me." Lucas kept his tone light, trying to ease the tension in the room. "You look... well, you look like you've been through hell."

Ryan shifted slightly, wincing as the movement sent a wave of pain through him. Lucas immediately reached out, gently pressing his hand against Ryan's shoulder to stop him from moving too much. "Hey, don't. You need to rest."

Ryan's eyes flickered with a mix of fear and confusion, but there was something else there, too—relief, maybe. "What... what are you doing here?"

Lucas let out a soft breath, leaning back in his chair. "I wanted to see how you were doing. You had a pretty rough time."

"Rough time..." Ryan echoed, his brow furrowing as he struggled to piece together his scattered memories. He looked at Lucas, searching his face for answers. "What happened?"

For a moment, Lucas didn't say anything. He wasn't sure how much Ryan could handle, or how much he should even know right now. But then he saw the way Ryan's eyes were filled with a desperate need to understand. He deserved the truth, or at least part of it.

"Kane happened," Lucas said softly, the name slipping from his lips like poison. "He hurt you... badly."

Ryan blinked, the realization slowly settling in. His body trembled, and his face twisted with fear. "He... he beat me." His voice cracked, and tears welled in his eyes. "I remember him... he was like a monster."

Lucas's throat tightened as he watched Ryan struggle to recount what little he could remember. His hand hovered near Ryan's again, unsure if he should offer more comfort. But when Ryan's breath hitched and a tear slid down his cheek, Lucas couldn't help it—he gently placed his hand over Ryan's, squeezing softly.

"It's over now," Lucas said, his voice filled with a fake warmth that surprised even him. "Kane's not going to hurt you anymore. You're safe."

Ryan turned his head slightly, his tear-filled eyes meeting Lucas's. "How... how do you know?"

Lucas hesitated for only a moment before answering, his voice steady. "Because Kane's been shot. He's not a threat to you anymore."

A shudder of relief passed through Ryan, his entire body sagging into the bed as if a weight had been lifted. "He's... gone?"

Lucas nodded.

Ryan exhaled a shaky breath, and for the first time since waking, he seemed to relax. His eyes closed, and though his tears hadn't stopped, the overwhelming fear that had gripped him moments ago seemed to ease. "Thank God..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Lucas sat back, watching the boy slowly drift into a calmer state,like a predator playing with his prey. He didn't move, didn't speak, just sat there, letting the boy have a moment of peace.

Ryan's lips curled into a relieved, almost grateful smile, as if some clarity had returned to him. "You saved me."

The smile seemed so out of place on his bruised and broken face, yet he looked at Lucas like he was a hero—like he had done something noble.

Lucas's lips pulled into a thin, calculated smile. He didn't correct Ryan. He didn't have to. Instead, he leaned back slightly and simply said, "Yes. I did."

Ryan's eyes softened further, his relief deepening. His chest rose shakily, and he swallowed hard. With great effort, he reached for Lucas's hand. His fingers, trembling and weak, gripped Lucas's, the small plastic clip on his finger from the hospital equipment pressing lightly against Lucas's skin.

Ryan squeezed his hand, desperate for that connection, desperate for comfort. Lucas let him hold it, though the sensation of Ryan's cold, clammy hand made something inside Lucas recoil.

"Thank you," Ryan whispered, his voice choked with emotion. His grip was weak, feeble, but his gratitude was genuine. He truly believed Lucas had been his savior.

Lucas didn't pull his hand away, though his smile tightened at the corners. He watched Ryan's face, the desperation, the hope, the utter belief that Lucas was the one who had pulled him from the clutches of death. It amused Lucas how easily Ryan had accepted this version of events, how fragile his mind was, desperate to cling to any sense of salvation.

But beneath that calm exterior, Lucas's mind was already working. Watching Ryan cling to him, it was almost too easy—how fragile people could be when they thought you were their savior. How quickly they'd trust you when they were at their lowest.

Lucas gently squeezed Ryan's hand back, though there was no warmth in the gesture, only cold calculation. "Rest now," Lucas said softly, his tone soothing, though his eyes betrayed none of the kindness his words implied. "You need to heal."

Ryan nodded weakly, his grip on Lucas's hand loosening slightly, the exhaustion beginning to take over. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a small, relieved sigh. Lucas stayed there, his hand still in Ryan's, his thoughts darker with each passing second.

Ryan was unconscious again, his breathing soft and steady, but Lucas remained still, watching him with predatory focus. Ryan trusted him, and that was a weapon Lucas could use—one that would make what came next so much easier.

Quietly, Lucas slipped his hand out of Ryan's grip, standing over the bed for a moment longer. His gaze lingered on Ryan's bandaged head, and for just a second, his fingers twitched, tempted to start. But there was no rush.

There would be a time for that soon enough.

Lucas stepped out of Ryan's room, closing the door softly behind him. The hallway felt stifling compared to the room he had just left.He looked up, his eyes landing on Dimitri, who was speaking with his uncle just a few feet away.

The sight made Lucas pause. There was something off about the scene before him.

Dimitri's face was set in its usual calm, collected mask, but there was a subtle edge in his posture,more straight and authoritive as though he was talking to his underling. His uncle, however, looked more worn down than usual, his features tense and shadowed. They exchanged words in low voices, the conversation quiet but serious. Lucas narrowed his eyes, curious as to what they could be discussing.

What really caught his attention, though, was the figure standing apart from them.

The aunt—Dimitri's aunt—stood a good distance away from the two, her back turned slightly toward them, her shoulders trembling. She was visibly distraught, her face blotchy and red, her eyes swollen from crying. Her nose was tinged pink from wiping it, and every few moments, she brought a tissue to her face, dabbing at the tears that wouldn't seem to stop.

Lucas's gaze lingered on her, noting how she didn't approach Dimitri or his uncle, almost as if she couldn't bear to be near them. The separation was stark, the distance telling.

What had happened while he was inside? What could have caused such a deep, emotional reaction? It wasn't just the usual grief in the face of a loved one's condition. This was something else.

Dimitri glanced over and spotted Lucas, giving him a small nod before returning his attention to his uncle. Lucas slowly approached, his eyes darting between the three of them, piecing together the oddness of the moment. His mind churned, sensing that whatever conversation had just taken place, it had more layers than met the eye.

The aunt, still quietly crying, turned slightly, catching sight of Lucas. She quickly averted her gaze, as if ashamed of her emotional state, retreating even further into herself.

Lucas tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. He didn't need to ask Dimitri about the details right now. He could wait. He was patient when he needed to be, especially when something was out of place.

And this? This was definitely out of place.