Glass Thrones & Steel Shadows

The villa reeked of blood, antiseptic, and burned silk.

By noon, the bodies were gone, the wounded treated, and the air was clean. Not fresh—just clean. Like something pretending not to remember.

Leo stood in the courtyard, dressed in all black. His button-down shirt was rolled to the elbows, white bandage tape peeking through. His hand rested lightly on the edge of the balcony rail, eyes scanning what remained of his father's private army. Nox stood beside him like a shadow come to life—suit pristine, mask abandoned, wind tugging gently at the edges of his white shirt.

Below, the members looked up.

None dared speak.

Nox didn't have to say anything. His presence was enough to slice oxygen.

Leo's voice carried sharp, clipped, but calm. "We'll restructure territories after the brothers funeral. For now—no retaliation. We move, we get hunted. We hold. We clean. We rebuild."

No one objected.

Nox leaned closer, fingers brushing Leo's side—just slightly, like a silent signal.

Leo nodded once. "Dismissed."

Late Lunch, Heavy Crowns

The kitchen was too bright. Too normal.

Leo chewed on grilled fish and rice, skin still drawn tight from tension. Nox ate silently, across from him, legs crossed casually. He hadn't commented on Leo wearing his shirt from two days ago. Or the fact that Leo hadn't let the emergency med kit out of his reach since.

Dominik limped in dramatically, leg in a brace, a tray of dessert in his hands. "So," he said, flopping on the couch across from the table. "What now? You two gonna burn down an embassy together? Adopt an orphan and teach him the art of knife-throwing? Open a mafia-themed bakery?"

Leo didn't look up. "Eat your cake, Dominik."

"I am physically injured," Dominik announced. "Spiritually? Shattered. That bullet to my thigh? Emotional. But I was brave. I dragged your corpse of a father into the panic room while bleeding like a tragic war bride."

Nox flicked a grape at him. Dominik shrieked. "DISRESPECT."

That's when the door opened.

One of the guards peeked in, pale and twitchy. "The boss is awake."

Leo stood first.

Nox followed.

Dominik didn't even move, muttering, "Tell him I lived. I fought. I suffered. He owes me an espresso machine."

The Bedroom of Legends (and Regrets)

Leo stepped into the room quietly. His father was propped up against pillows, face gray, eyes clear. The monitor beeped softly beside him.

Leo's voice was quiet. "Hey."

The older man looked at his son. Then at Nox. Then back.

"You lived," he rasped.

"Barely," Leo answered.

"You fought."

"I had help."

The boss exhaled slowly. "You'll have to take my place now. I can't... walk. Maybe ever. I won't be useful in this war anymore."

Leo didn't flinch.

"I know what I'm asking," his father added. "But you're not alone. You have Nox. Just like I had Dominik. He's loud, but loyal."

Nox said nothing. Just nodded once, sharp and absolute.

Leo whispered, "I won't let it fall."

His father smiled weakly. "Good boy."

They left after that—without ceremony. The kind of passing of the torch that didn't need words, just blood, bruises, and the unspoken.

Dominik's Commentary Corner: A Monologue

The moment they were out of earshot, Dominik started.

"Do you know what I witnessed while dragging his father through a burning hallway? Do you?"

His assistant blinked from the corner. "...Trauma?"

"Romance!" Dominik exploded, dramatically gesturing to the ceiling like a prophet. "Silent, emotionally-stunted, unspoken loyalty! Leo bandaging Nox like he was precious glassware! Nox throwing himself into gunfire like a bodyguard in a K-drama! The hug! The tears! The fact that neither of them have SAID ANYTHING ABOUT IT."

He flailed.

"They share food. They wear each other's clothes. They train together, bleed together, communicate with micro-glances like CIA operatives in love. But ask either of them what they are and they'll say—brothers. BROTHERS?! What kind of brother flicks your belly piercing while you clean sniper rifles?!"

His assistant coughed politely. "Should I... tell them?"

Dominik waved a spoon. "No. Let them rot in their repressed emotional swamp. It's more fun to watch. I'm invested. I made popcorn."

He sighed theatrically, collapsing on the couch. "They are the most terrifying, most capable idiots I have ever seen. And I love them like terrible nephews in a telenovela."

Final Scene: Balcony at Dusk

Leo and Nox stood side by side, overlooking the garden now being quietly re-fortified by armed men.

The scent of disinfectant clung to everything. Gunpowder still lingered in the walls.

Leo leaned forward slightly on the rail. "You gonna disappear again?"

Nox's voice was even. "No. Not unless you need me to."

Leo's lips quirked. "Good. I'm not my father."

"I know," Nox replied. "You're worse. You care."

A moment passed. Quiet. Cool wind brushing past the tension.

Leo's voice was softer now. "He said you were my Dominik."

Nox looked at him.

Leo looked back.

No one said anything else.

Because they didn't need to.