Chapter 24: Escape 

"Then why should I trust you?"

The words came out quieter than Elias meant them to. Not an accusation. Not even a challenge. Just tired. Honest. The kind of question you ask when the room is too still and every breath feels like it's pressing against a deadline.

The line paused, as if he was trying to avoid saying the wrong thing.

Finally, Matteo answered. Voice low. 

"You probably shouldn't."

The knock was soft.

Too soft.

Not the dull thud of a neighbor, not the bored rhythm of campus security. Just a calculated, near-gentle tap. The kind of knock you give when you know someone's inside and you expect them to open.

Elias froze mid-breath, muscles coiled.

Matteo was still on the line, his voice distant now, tinny with concern bleeding into urgency, saying something about staying in the light, finding a public place and not trusting anybody, but Elias wasn't listening anymore.

There was only the door.

No second knock. Not yet. Just silence. But it was thick with expectation, and that was worse.

"I have to go," Elias whispered, his voice too quiet to echo. "Someone's at my door."

"Wait—Elias—just wait—"

He ended the call, heart pounding like a fist against bone, and reached automatically toward his desk lamp. On its base was the yellow sticky note where he'd scribbled Victor Numen's direct line before he called earlier. 

His fingers weren't shaking when he typed the number. But they should've been.

The burner rang.

Once.

Twice.

A second knock came. Firmer. Closer. Like a warning wrapped in politeness.

Third ring.

Fourth.

Elias backed away from the door, the cheap wood of it suddenly thin, too thin. He could almost feel the presence behind it now, someone standing there, not moving, not pacing, just waiting.

Fifth ring.

Then…

The line connected.

Victor's voice cut through, low and sharp as ever. "This number is not secure. Why are you calling from it?"

"There's someone at my door," Elias said quickly. "They say they're from you."

A pause. Elias could hear Victor's mind running. 

"I sent someone," Victor said finally, and Elias could hear the sound of keys tapping in the background, like he was already pulling up surveillance or logs or something worse. "But they're not there yet."

"Are you sure?" Elias asked, already backing further toward the bathroom.

"I have eyes on the route. You're five minutes ahead of them. Whoever's knocking isn't mine."

Elias's throat went dry.

There was no more knock. No sound at all. Just that thick, breathless quiet beyond the door, like whoever stood on the other side had heard his voice and decided silence was the better weapon.

"He's using his pheromones. It's an alpha." Elias said, staring at the door, like it could burst open at any time. "Fuck." 

"Are you sure?" Elias asked, already backing further toward the bathroom.

"I have eyes on the route," Victor said, tone flat and absolute. "You're five minutes ahead of them. Whoever's knocking isn't mine."

Elias's throat went dry.

There was no more knock. No sound at all. Just that thick, breathless quiet beyond the door, like whoever stood on the other side had heard his voice and decided silence was the better weapon. That silence didn't just fill the room; it pressed into it, saturating the air with something heavier than sound.

Elias didn't need to hear breathing.

He could feel it.

The slow coiling tension of someone standing too still for too long. Watching. Listening.

His skin prickled. His body was reacting before his thoughts could catch up, tightening, curling inward, and chest constricting like it recognized something deeper than sound or logic.

"He's using his pheromones," Elias said, barely above a whisper, eyes fixed on the door like it might implode under pressure. "It's an alpha."

He swallowed hard, took one step back, then another.

"Fuck."

The air was thicker now. Heavy with power that wasn't his. A power meant to unmake him slowly, before a hand ever touched the handle.

Whoever it was out there wasn't trying to come in.

They were trying to weaken him enough to open the door himself.

Elias gritted his teeth and turned toward the bathroom, each movement controlled, deliberate, like a man crossing a minefield barefoot. 

"Don't engage," Victor said, sharp again. "He's waiting for a reaction."

"He already has one," Elias muttered, voice tight. "I can taste it in my mouth."

"You have two minutes to get out of that building."

"Easier said than done," Elias snapped, his voice edged with the kind of sharp, bitter clarity that only surfaced when panic started to crystallize into strategy. "The only way out, besides the front door, is either the bedroom window, which faces the street, or the bathroom. And the bathroom's a gamble."

Victor didn't answer right away. On the other end, there was the faint clatter of a keyboard, fast and focused.

"Is the alley clear?"

"I don't know," Elias hissed, already crossing to the bathroom. "I haven't developed night vision this week."

"Then go with the option that gives you the most unknowns, not the least."

"That doesn't sound like good advice."

"It is when the only known variable is an alpha standing at your door."

Elias didn't argue.

The bedroom window was too exposed, angled toward the main street, open to every surveillance camera and parked car, too easy for someone to intercept him before he even hit the ground. But the bathroom? Narrow alley. More shadows. Maybe fewer eyes. Maybe not.

He reached for the window latch, fingers slick with sweat.

Behind him, the rest of the apartment had gone unnaturally still. Like the person on the other side of the door had realized he was moving and had shifted from waiting to hunting.

The doorknob didn't turn. But Elias felt the pressure change. The way animals feel a storm before the clouds break.

"Window it is," he muttered, bracing his hands against the sill. "If I die in a garbage bin behind a noodle shop, tell the board to name a lab after me."

"I'll tell them you were an idiot," Victor said, completely unfazed. "Now move."

Elias hoisted himself onto the narrow ledge and got out.