Chapter 81:Possessive Tendencies

Their lips parted with a wet sound, both of them breathless, their faces flushed. The dim light in the room made their disheveled hair seem like dark halos, framing their features in a way that felt both intimate and raw. Lucas leaned his forehead against Dimitri's for a fleeting second, his chest rising and falling heavily, the quiet aftermath of their stolen moment settling over them like a fragile truce.

They didn't speak. Words felt unnecessary, almost intrusive. Instead, Dimitri reached up and brushed a stray strand of Lucas's dark hair away from his face, his touch reverent and trembling. His eyes, wide and shining. His lips, swollen and red, curled into a faint, almost eerie smile.

Lucas exhaled, now that he had time to relax he realised his entire body was aching ,the weight of everything pressing down on him. The journey from the hospital felt like hell now, each step heavier than the last. He had been kidnapped by Kane, watched him die, endured the pain of his injuries, and then discovered that Dimitri wasn't who he seemed—each event adding layers of exhaustion that clung to his young body. His muscles ached with the strain, his mind buzzing, but his body was too tired to fight anymore.

He moved away from Dimitri , his back hitting the mattress with a dull thud as the tension in his body finally unraveled. It was like all the air had been sucked from his lungs, leaving only the weight of everything he had endured. His mind was numb, too tired to process, to care. He turned on his side, away from Dimitri, as if creating some space between them might ease the warm pressure inside him.

The exhaustion settled in like a blanket, heavy and suffocating, pulling him under. His body sank into the bed, every fiber of him grateful for the softness, the momentary reprieve. His breathing evened out, slow and steady, but his body was still trembling with the aftermath of everything that had happened. It was too much for someone his age, too much for anyone to bear. But there was nothing left to do but let the silence swallow him whole, and within moments, his mind dulled, his body going limp, the chaos inside fading into a distant hum as he closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

Dimitri didn't move. He stayed perfectly still afraid to ruin the moment,his gaze locked on Lucas. His eyes glimmered in the faint light, unblinking, drinking in every detail of the boy who now lay vulnerably before him. His chest swelled with a dark satisfaction, his lips curving into a smile that bordered on deranged.

Mine. He's mine.

The thought looped in Dimitri's mind, his obsession tightening its hold on him. His fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to reach out and touch Lucas's face, to trace the line of his jaw, to claim him again and again until there was no doubt left.

His thoughts grew darker, more possessive, as the hours passed. He imagined a world where Lucas never left his side, where no one else could have him, where he could keep him safe—safe from everyone— especially himself. He envisioned locking them away together, away from prying eyes, where Lucas would have no choice but to see him, to need him.

Dimitri repositioned himself on the bed, careful not to disturb Lucas. He lay on his side, his body slightly propped up, his elbow digging into the mattress as he cradled his head in his hand. His other hand hovered near Lucas's back, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him but not quite touching. His eyes never wavered, unblinking as the night dragged on.

When the faint glow of dawn began to seep through the curtains, Dimitri was still watching, his expression unchanged. His wide, unblinking gaze had taken on a manic sheen, his pupils blown wide despite the growing light. To anyone else, he would have looked terrifying—psychotic, even.

As the sun climbed higher, Dimitri leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the back of Lucas's neck. He stirred faintly in his sleep, a quiet contented sigh escaping his lips, but he didn't wake,dead to the world. Dimitri's smile widened, his teeth flashing briefly in the early morning light.

The faint rise and fall of Lucas's chest was hypnotic, the dark strands of his semi-long hair falling messily across his pale face, framing him like a painting.

Dimitri's hand twitched, his fingers curling into his palm before slowly relaxing. He couldn't resist the urge any longer. With a trembling breath, he leaned over and reached for the nightstand, careful to keep his movements slow and deliberate. The soft click of the drawer opening sounded deafening in the stillness of the room, but Lucas didn't stir.

Inside, Dimitri's fingers closed around a small, sleek pair of scissors. His lips parted slightly, his breathing quickening as he brought them out, holding them as if they were sacred. The metal glinted faintly in the dim morning light.

"Just a piece," he whispered under his breath, his voice trembling with anticipation. His eyes darted to Lucas's face, ensuring he was still asleep, before lowering to the strands of hair splayed across the pillow. The urge to touch them, to claim a part of Lucas for himself, was unbearable.

With the scissors in hand, he leaned in close, his nose almost brushing the strands as he inhaled deeply, savoring the faint scent of Lucas. His hands were steady, precise, as he slid the blades under a section of hair. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his lips curling into a manic smile and huffing with a perverse need, before he closed the blades with a soft snip.

The severed lock of hair felt warm and alive in his fingers, and Dimitri clutched it tightly, his heart pounding with a mixture of exhilaration and dread. This was his. Lucas's. A piece of him that no one else could have.

But then Lucas stirred.

Dimitri froze, his entire body going rigid as Lucas shifted slightly, murmuring something unintelligible in his sleep. He quickly shoved the lock of hair into his palm, clutching it tightly as he set the scissors back into the drawer with a soft thud. His movements were frantic but controlled, his mind racing.

Lucas's eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep. He blinked a few times, his gaze hazy as he turned his head toward Dimitri.

"Dimitri?" Lucas's voice was groggy, edged with confusion.

Dimitri's heart skipped a beat, but he forced a smile onto his face, his expression carefully blank despite the wild look in his eyes. "Oh, you're awake," he said, his voice breathy and uneven. He straightened up, sliding off the bed quickly, almost too quickly.

Lucas squinted at him, his brows furrowing. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing!" Dimitri blurted out, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. He quickly stepped away from the bed, his fingers still curled tightly around the lock of hair, hiding it from view. "I just… I thought you might be hungry. I'll make breakfast." His words tumbled out in a rush, his voice unusually high-pitched.

Lucas tilted his head, eyeing him with faint suspicion, but his expression quickly smoothed over into indifference. "Sure," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Whatever."

Dimitri didn't wait for a response. He bolted from the room, his bare feet padding quickly against the floor as he disappeared down the hallway. Once he was out of sight, he ducked into the nearest bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

His breath came in sharp gasps as he leaned against the sink, opening his palm to reveal the lock of hair. It was perfect—soft, jet black, and undeniably Lucas's. Dimitri stared at it with wide, crazed eyes, a slow smile creeping across his face.

"Beautiful," Dimitri whispered, his voice low and hushed, almost reverent. His fingers curled around the lock of hair, and he brought it closer, inhaling deeply, as though absorbing every strand. His lips brushed against it, a soft, almost sinful touch. Closing his eyes, he imagined the feel of Lucas's presence, the warmth of him, the connection between them. A shiver ran down his spine, the fantasies clouding his mind.

"Perfect," he murmured, his breath shallow. He held the hair in his palm, cherishing it as if it were something sacred, something just for him. A soft, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He didn't need to say more—his thoughts spoke louder than any words ever could.

Tearing himself away, he quickly stuffed the hair into a small vial he had in a medicine cabinet, his hands shaking as he secured it tightly. He tucked the vial deep into his pajama pocket before splashing water on his face, forcing his expression into something resembling normalcy.

By the time Dimitri entered the kitchen, his movements were still sharp and jittery, as though he couldn't quite settle into himself. He began pulling out pans and ingredients, his actions almost mechanical. Lucas wandered in moments later, his hair still slightly mussed from sleep, tousled and wild, a mix of bed head and effortless charm. Compared to Dimitri's neat, well-groomed look, his hair was a disheveled, fluffy mess that made him seem oddly cute, as if the chaos of sleep hadn't been fully shaken off. He leaned against the counter, watching Dimitri with mild amusement, the soft waves of his hair falling over his forehead in a way that made him seem younger, more innocent, despite the sharpness behind his eyes.

"You're acting weird," Lucas commented, his tone light but edged with curiosity.

Dimitri didn't look up trying to stop himself from smiling creepily.His back was turned to Lucas as he cracked eggs into a bowl. "Just wanted to make sure you're comfortable," he said, his voice smoother now, though his hands moved with a nervous energy.

Lucas shrugged, losing interest, and grabbed a glass of water. Dimitri risked a glance over his shoulder, his eyes softening as he watched Lucas sip his drink.

Dimitri fumbled with the skillet in his hand, his movements clumsy and jerky as he turned the stove to its highest heat. The oil in the pan sputtered violently, a few droplets leaping out and burning his forearm. He winced but didn't pull back, his determination to impress Lucas outweighing his complete lack of skill.

Eggs cracked awkwardly into the bowl, their shells crunching as Dimitri missed the edge. His hands trembled as he whisked the eggs together with far too much vigor, splattering yolk onto the counter and himself. He didn't seem to notice, his focus entirely on the task, though it was painfully obvious he had no idea what he was doing.

Lucas leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, his piercing blue eyes fixed on Dimitri with growing annoyance. His lips were set in a thin line, and every movement Dimitri made—every clang, every splash, every hiss of the oil—chipped away at his already short patience.

The eggs finally made it into the skillet, where they began to sizzle immediately, but Dimitri, oblivious to the need for control, dumped an excessive amount of salt directly onto them. The white crystals piled up like sand dunes, and Dimitri hummed to himself, convinced he was doing well.

"You've got to be kidding me," Lucas muttered under his breath, his voice low but sharp.

Dimitri didn't hear him. He had moved on to grabbing a loaf of bread, which he tossed haphazardly onto the counter. Instead of toasting it properly, he threw a few slices directly onto the gas flame, where they promptly began to burn. The room filled with the acrid smell of charred bread, and Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly to keep himself from snapping.

It wasn't until Dimitri, in his flustered state, reached for the hot skillet handle with his bare hand that reality seemed to hit him. The searing heat met his skin, and he let out a sharp yelp, dropping the pan with a loud clatter. Eggs and oil spilled onto the stovetop, the mess spreading in every direction.

That was the final straw.

"For fuck's sake!" Lucas barked, pushing himself off the counter and striding toward Dimitri. "What the hell are you even doing?"

Dimitri froze, cradling his burnt hand against his chest as he stared at Lucas with wide eyes, like a child caught doing something forbidden. "I-I was trying to make breakfast," he stammered, his voice small and hesitant.

"Yeah? Well, congratulations. You're a complete disaster," Lucas snapped, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he grabbed a towel and threw it onto the mess. "You're burning the food, burning yourself, and ruining my morning all at once."

Dimitri's lips trembled slightly, but instead of arguing, his face softened into an almost serene smile. "I just wanted to do something for you," he said quietly, his words tinged with a strange, unwavering adoration.

Lucas rolled his eyes, scrubbing at the countertop with the towel. "Right. You want to help? Sit the hell down and stay out of my way."

Dimitri hesitated for a moment, but when Lucas pointed sharply toward the table, he immediately obeyed, a grin spreading across his face as he slid into a chair. His burnt hand rested on the table, forgotten, as his focus shifted entirely to watching Lucas.

Lucas sighed heavily as he began gathering the ruined food, dumping the charred bread and over-salted eggs into the trash. His movements were quick and precise, his frustration evident in the way he slammed the skillet back onto the stove.

"You're useless," Lucas muttered, his back to Dimitri as he grabbed fresh ingredients from the fridge. "Completely and utterly useless. How have you even survived this long?"

Dimitri didn't seem fazed by the insult. In fact, he seemed delighted. His eyes sparkled with an almost unhinged excitement as he rested his chin in his hands, watching Lucas with rapt attention. "I survived because I have people like you to help me," he said sweetly, his voice filled with a disturbing sincerity.

Lucas froze for a moment, turning his head slightly to glare at Dimitri. "That's not a compliment," he said flatly before returning to the stove.

"But I'm lucky to have you," Dimitri added softly, his smile widening as Lucas stirred eggs in the pan with a precision that Dimitri could only dream of.

"Don't get used to it," Lucas muttered, his voice sharp but lacking the bite it usually carried. Despite his irritation, there was something oddly grounding about the routine of cooking, and he let himself focus on that instead of the unsettling way Dimitri was staring at him.

Dimitri leaned forward in his seat, his gaze unwavering as he watched Lucas move around the kitchen with ease. He took in every detail—the way Lucas's dark hair fell into his face, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed as he worked, the way he carried himself with a quiet confidence.

He felt a warmth spreading through his chest, a possessive hunger that made his fingers twitch against the table. This was perfection. Lucas cooking for him—it felt right, like a glimpse into the life Dimitri was convinced they were meant to share.

When Lucas finally plated the food and set it in front of Dimitri, he crossed his arms and glared down at him. "Eat. And don't burn the house down next time you get a dumb idea like cooking."

Dimitri beamed up at him, the insult rolling off him like water. "Thank you, Lucas," he said earnestly, picking up his fork with his uninjured hand.

Lucas grunted in response, turning away to clean up the rest of the mess. As he worked, he could feel Dimitri's eyes on him, the weight of his gaze heavy and unwavering but he shook it off, chalking it up to annoyance.

Dimitri, on the other hand, was lost in his own thoughts, each bite of the food Lucas had made cementing his belief that this was only the beginning.

Suddenly ,the sound of sharp, frantic banging echoed through the house, shattering the heavy silence like a gunshot. Lucas froze mid-step, his body tensing as his head turned toward the door. The banging came again, louder this time, as though whoever was on the other side had no intention of waiting.

"Lucas!" Mr. Morton's voice called, his tone commanding, yet frantic enough to send an unsettling chill down Dimitri's spine. "Open this door now!"

Dimitri's attention was immediately on the door flinching at the sound, his wide crazed eyes flickered to Lucas, who stood completely still, his back to Dimitri.

"Lucas," Dimitri whispered nervously, his voice barely audible. He could see the way Lucas's shoulders had gone stiff, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Without a word, Lucas stalked toward the door, his movements sharp and deliberate, like a predator approaching prey. His entire demeanor had shifted, a dangerous energy radiating from him that made the air feel heavy.

The banging continued, relentless, as Mr. Morton's voice grew sharper. "Don't make me break this door down, boy! I know you're in there!"

Lucas reached the door, pausing for a moment, his hand hovering over the handle. Dimitri held his breath, his heart pounding as he watched from his seat, unable to look away.

Lucas opened the door with a sudden, forceful pull, the loud creak of the hinges cutting through the tension. There stood Mr. Morton, his face red with frustration, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto Lucas.

"You think I don't know what's going on in here?!" Mr. Morton spat, his face flushed and disheveled. He looked nothing like the composed, arrogant man Lucas was used to seeing. His tie hung loose around his neck, his shirt half-untucked, and his hair a mess.

Dimitri now stood in the doorway, blocking Morton's path, his frame relaxed but unyielding. "You're mistaken," Dimitri said coldly, his voice cutting through Morton's ranting like a blade.

But Morton wasn't listening. His wild eyes darted around until they landed on Lucas, who had just stepped back into view. His expression twisted into one of disgust.

"You!" Morton barked, pointing a trembling finger at Lucas. "You think I didn't see you? At the hospital, all over him! Disgusting!"

Lucas raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a sly, mocking smile. "Good morning to you too," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Morton's face contorted further in rage, his hands balling into fists. "You're an abomination," he hissed. "I should've left you to rot in the system. This is what you've turned into? Parading around like some… some—"

"Careful," Lucas interrupted, stepping closer, his voice calm but laced with menace. "You're treading dangerous ground."

Morton faltered for a moment, his bluster deflating under Lucas's icy gaze. But then he straightened, his expression hardening. "I gave you everything," he sneered. "And this is how you repay me? Flaunting your sickness—"

Lucas cut him off again, his voice low and venomous. "Don't pretend this is about morality, Morton. We both know what you are."

Morton's face went pale at that, and he glanced around nervously, as if worried someone might overhear. Dimitri watched the exchange in silence, his dark eyes flicking between the two men with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

Mr. Morton stepped forward, his imposing frame towering over Lucas as he jabbed a finger at his chest. His voice was low but laced with venom, each word carefully chosen to wound.

"Let me make something clear. You are mine to control. And if you think you can disobey me, I'll make sure you regret it."

Lucas's expression didn't change, but Dimitri could see the way his fists clenched at his sides, the tension rippling through him like a live wire.

"I've already contacted the agency," Mr. Morton continued, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. "If you're not back under my roof by Friday, I'll make it happen myself. And as for your little… friend"—his eyes flicked over to Dimitri, who stiffened in his chair—"I'll make sure the two of you are separated. Permanently."

Dimitri's heart sank, his stomach twisting with panic. His wide eyes darted to Lucas, silently begging him to stay calm. But Lucas wasn't calm. Not even close.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Lucas asked, his voice eerily quiet, the calm before the storm.

"Oh, it's not a threat," Mr. Morton sneered, leaning in closer, his breath hot against Lucas's face. "It's a promise. You have until Friday. Either you come crawling back, or I'll see the process through. And trust me, Lucas—you won't like where you end up."

Dimitri's chair scraped against the floor as he stood, his instincts screaming at him to intervene, but one look from Lucas stopped him in his tracks. That look—cold, detached, and razor-sharp—sent a chill down Dimitri's spine.

Lucas tilted his head, a slow, almost mocking motion. His blue eyes, so bright and beautiful, were now glinting with something far more murderous.

Mr. Morton chuckled, clearly mistaking Lucas's calm reaction for submission. "You're a child, Lucas. A defiant, ungrateful child. And children don't get a say."

In an instant, Lucas stepped forward, closing the distance between them with startling speed. Mr. Morton flinched as Lucas's hand shot out, gripping his wrist hard enough to make him wince.

"Get out," Lucas said, his voice deathly calm.

Mr. Morton yanked his arm back, his face twisting in anger. "This isn't over," he spat, straightening his jacket as he turned toward the door. "Friday. You have until Friday."

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the house like a gunshot.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Dimitri stood frozen, his chest heaving as he stared at Lucas, who hadn't moved from his spot.

"Lucas…" Dimitri's voice was barely a whisper, but Lucas didn't respond.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind Mr. Morton, Lucas's composure shattered like glass. His breath quickened, chest heaving, and without a second thought, he turned and stormed through the house. His footsteps were heavy, each step a thundering sound in the silence that followed. He grabbed anything in his path—a vase, a chair, a lamp—and hurled them against the walls. The sharp sound of shattering glass and splintering wood filled the room, echoing in Dimitri's ears.

Dimitri stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide with disbelief, his heart racing. He knew Lucas was volatile, but this was different—this wasn't just anger.It was something that Lucas couldn't control.

"Lucas!" Dimitri finally shouted, his voice breaking through the chaos. "Stop it!"

But Lucas didn't hear him. Or maybe he just didn't care. He was lost in the frenzy, his face twisted in rage, his hands shaking as he threw more and more objects to the ground. The sound of his fury made Dimitri's pulse spike, and before he could think, he rushed forward, attempting to grab Lucas by the shoulders to stop him.

In an instant, Lucas turned, his eyes wild and filled with a strange fury. Without warning, he swung his fist, connecting with Dimitri's face with brutal force. The impact was like a punch to the gut, and Dimitri staggered back, a sharp pain blooming across his cheek as he stumbled to the floor.

For a split second, the world felt frozen. Dimitri's hands trembled, his face throbbing from the blow. Blood dripped from his nose, and his vision blurred. But then, he saw Lucas.

Lucas had stopped. Completely.

His breath was coming in ragged gasps, his body trembling as if on the verge of a complete breakdown. The rage that had consumed him moments ago seemed to dissipate, leaving a hollow emptiness behind.

And then, Lucas smiled. It wasn't a smile of joy or satisfaction. It was almost broken. A grin twisted by something darker, something that threatened to swallow him whole.

"I'm sorry," Lucas said quietly, almost as if he didn't recognize his own voice. He reached out, his fingers brushing against Dimitri's face in a gesture that was too gentle for the chaos he'd just caused.

Dimitri, still reeling from the punch, wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and stood up slowly, his chest tightening as he met Lucas's gaze. Despite the pain, he didn't pull away. He could see it in Lucas's eyes—the internal war, the deep well of anger that threatened to consume him.

"I'll never let them take you away," Dimitri said, his voice firm, even though his jaw ached from the force of Lucas's punch. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his words. He meant it.

Lucas nodded slowly, the fury in his eyes fading just a little. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his expression distant, as if he were lost in thought.

"I need to release it," Lucas muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "All this anger building inside me... If I don't... I don't know what I'll do. I'll hurt you."

Dimitri's stomach clenched at the admission, but he refused to look away. He stood in front of Lucas, unwavering.

"If you need to let it out, then let it out," Dimitri said quietly. "But not on me. Not like this." He was trembling, his body still stinging from the punch, but his words were steady. "I'll help you. We'll figure it out together."

Lucas's lips twitched in something that almost looked like relief, but it quickly morphed into something darker again. He looked down at his hands, balling them into fists, his knuckles turning white.

"I don't know how long I can control it," Lucas muttered, his voice thick with frustration. "I don't want to hurt you, but it's getting harder to keep it in."

Dimitri's heart hammered in his chest. He could feel the dangerous edge in Lucas's words, the thin line between control and chaos. But instead of retreating, he stepped closer, putting a hand on Lucas's shoulder.

"We'll find a way," Dimitri said softly, trying to steady the fear that lurked beneath his calm exterior. "I'm not going anywhere. You're not alone in this."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Lucas nodded, his jaw tight, and he let out a slow breath.

"Maybe next time, I'll have a way to release it," he muttered, though the uncertainty in his voice was unmistakable. He glanced at Dimitri briefly before turning away, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his rage.

Dimitri's eyes never left him, a quiet promise in his gaze. Whatever Lucas needed, he would give. Whatever it took to keep him from slipping into the darkness that seemed to call to him.

But deep down, Dimitri knew the truth: Lucas was far more dangerous than he realized. And so was Dimitri—for staying.

Dimitri stood there for a moment, his bloody nose still dripping as he wiped at it with the back of his hand, the crimson streak smearing against his skin. His breath was shaky, but his eyes never left Lucas. The pain in his face was nothing compared to the turmoil he could see brewing inside Lucas. He could feel it—the storm that was simmering under the surface, threatening to erupt.

Lucas's movements were slow, almost detached, as he turned away, not meeting Dimitri's gaze. His body was still taut with the pent-up anger, his fists still clenched at his sides as if any moment, he might lash out again. Dimitri could feel it in the air—the weight of it. He wasn't blind. He knew what was happening. Lucas's rage, his volatile nature, it wasn't just something that could be contained or reasoned away. It had a life of its own.

Wiping the last of the blood from his lip, Dimitri took a step toward Lucas. His voice was quiet, but it was steady, calculated.

"You're not going to be able to keep it in," Dimitri said, the words slipping out like they were rehearsed. Like he already knew them by heart. "It's in your nature, Lucas. I can see it. I know what you are."

Lucas froze, the words landing on him like a punch. He looked up sharply, but Dimitri pressed on, each step closer bringing them into a deeper space, one where nothing was off-limits.

"I did my research," Dimitri continued, his tone taking on an almost academic quality. "I know about people like you. Your tendencies. The rage that eats you alive from the inside. The way you turn it inward—until there's nothing left but a dark void."

Lucas's eyes narrowed, a flash of distrust sparking in his gaze, but Dimitri ignored it. His words were calm, but they hit with terrifying precision.

"You think you can control it, don't you?" Dimitri's voice dropped lower, more intimate now. "But the truth is, you can't. Not without releasing it. You're a predator, Lucas. And you need to feed. If you don't, it'll consume you."

Lucas's lips parted slightly, his breath shallow as he processed Dimitri's words. For a split second, there was hesitation—a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, before Dimitri's next words cut through the quiet.

"You need to kill someone," Dimitri said, his voice low but unwavering, the suggestion hanging in the air like a dark promise.

The words hit Lucas like a jolt of electricity, his eyes widening, his hands twitching at his sides. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen. Dimitri could see the fight in him, the internal battle between his desire for release and the part of him that still clung to some semblance of control.

Dimitri stepped closer, closing the gap between them, his presence suffocating, yet oddly comforting.

"It's not just about hurting someone," Dimitri added, his voice softening just a touch. "It's about killing. You need to do it. You need to let yourself embrace that part of you that's been buried so deep, and you need to feel it. The thrill, the release. The power."

Lucas's chest rose and fell rapidly as the words sank in. His pupils dilated, his jaw tightening.

"You can't hold back anymore," Dimitri continued, his voice steady and persuasive. "You've been running from it. Hiding it. But this… this is the only way you're going to find peace. To feel whole again." He paused, letting the words sink in. "And I'll be here, Lucas. I'll be the one to help you when you do it. When you finally embrace what you really are."

Lucas stood motionless for a moment, his face unreadable. But Dimitri could see it in the way his shoulders relaxed just a fraction, the way his body language shifted. There was something dark and hungry in his eyes now, something dangerous and raw.

"I'm not saying it's easy," Dimitri went on, his tone almost playful now, as if they were discussing a casual task. "But I know you, Lucas. You want to do it. You need to do it."

Lucas let out a long breath, his expression finally cracking. "And what do you want from me, Dimitri?" His voice was thick with something else now—a mix of anger, frustration, and an odd curiosity.

Dimitri's smile was small, predatory even, as he leaned in closer. "I want you to stop pretending. I want you to accept what you are. And I want to be by your side when you do it."

There was a long, suffocating silence between them, filled only by the sound of their breaths. Lucas's eyes flickered to Dimitri's, searching for something—perhaps a reason to pull back, a reason to deny what Dimitri had just suggested. But Dimitri could see it in Lucas's eyes. Deep down, he knew it too.

Lucas nodded once, a sharp, decisive motion that made Dimitri's heart race.

"I'll be waiting," Dimitri whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "We'll do it together. I'll make sure you don't go through it alone again."

Lucas's lips curled into something almost like a smile, though it was edged with darkness.

"Yes," he said, the promise in his voice clear. "Together."