Chapter 35: Signs 

The stairwell was quiet, not even the usual sounds of a house being heard, if Elias were the sort to notice silence before it closed around his ankles.

Victor moved ahead of him, a step at a time, hands still in his pockets, pace unhurried like the stairs were a formality and gravity answered to him out of habit. His bathrobe shifted with every movement, edges catching the light just enough to remind Elias that this wasn't just some man. This was a god, or at least something that wore the shape of one far too well.

Elias followed.

Not closely.

Not because he didn't want to be near him, gods, no, but because something in his spine screamed for distance even as the rest of him strained forward like iron filings pulled toward a magnet. His ankle flared again, sharp and familiar, and he clenched his jaw so tightly it felt like his molars might crack.

He didn't stumble. But it was close.

They reached the first floor.

Waiting by the main door, Robert looked up first, his posture already too straight for this hour. Ashwin, standing beside him, lifted a brow, but his gaze wasn't on Victor.

It landed on Elias.

Robert spoke first. "Sir. You're walking."

Victor didn't stop. "Temporarily."

Ashwin's eyes didn't shift. He looked at Elias like a man ticking off variables on a report. His expression didn't move, but his focus narrowed.

"You're still injured," he said quietly, more observation than concern.

Elias rolled his eyes. "Thanks. I hadn't noticed."

He didn't catch the way Victor's gaze lingered a second too long at the edge of the room. Didn't register the subtle pulse of heat that had nothing to do with his ankle. He was too busy keeping his balance. Too busy watching Victor's back like it held answers. Too busy pretending he hadn't just kissed, been kissed by, someone who could probably bend continents and hadn't even flinched at the aftermath.

Victor didn't correct Ashwin.

Didn't explain.

Didn't say that he could heal Elias. Because he didn't want him healed, he wanted him tired enough to follow him and not put up a fight. Sure, his men could easily force him in the car and bring him where Victor wanted, but he wanted Elias to ask for safety and reach for him like the other night. 

He just walked forward and held the car door open, the gesture smooth, almost princely.

And Elias, gods help him, got in.

The car was quiet. The kind of insulated silence that made your own breath feel too loud and your thoughts feel like they might crawl out of your skull if you weren't careful. The doors clicked shut with the soft efficiency of something expensive, and for a moment, Elias was grateful for the darkness outside the tinted glass, because the inside of the car was already too much.

Victor sat across from him, legs crossed, robe still half-loose like none of this required effort. Like being out of a wheelchair and standing under his own power hadn't just stunned two trained operatives into silence.

His head tilted slightly as the car pulled away from the curb, one elbow resting casually on the door's armrest, gaze turned toward the window like there were stars out there worth watching.

There weren't.

But there were stars inside the cabin, burning red, molten, and low, every time Victor shifted just enough for the folds of his robe to fall open at the collar.

And that's when Elias saw them.

Scars.

Not fresh. Just… etched.

Fine white lines, barely raised, curling along the curve of his collarbone and disappearing beneath fabric. They looked like heat had split him open once and left the shape of its damage behind. Ether channels. Burned clean.

Elias stared, too long, before dragging his eyes away.

He couldn't sit like Victor. Couldn't lean into the plush seat like it belonged to him. He perched instead, careful not to let his sore ankle twist, one arm braced against the door like he was ready to leap out if the atmosphere got any thicker.

And it did. Gods, it did.

So he reached for the one thing that might anchor him.

His phone.

The screen lit up too brightly in the low cabin light.

Elias angled it down, thumb swiping past the first few notifications, updates, background syncs, old emails his brain couldn't even register right now, and stopped when a new message blinked at the top. One name.

Matteo.

He didn't want to open it. Didn't want to see what flavor of guilt or manipulation it would be this time. But his traitor hands moved anyway.

Elias, please, please tell me you are alright. I've tried to file a missing person report for you. Numen flagged it down in less than an hour. Please tell me you are safe.

The words blurred for a second. Not from emotion, he was too hollow for that, but from the heat behind his eyes that he refused to acknowledge. His jaw locked. 

'Please tell me you are safe.'

Safe? Where was safe in a world where gods could burn cities for practice and friends could sell your silence like stock options?

His thumb hovered over the reply bar and typed slowly.

Ruoxi's voicemail told me to not trust you.

A pause. He took a deep breath before writing the next message.

You told me that I shouldn't trust you.

That one stayed on the screen for longer. He watched the letters settle into place like debris in a storm. 

What did you do?

He didn't send it. Not yet.

He stared at the message thread until the text began to dim. The silence in the car felt louder now, the kind that wrapped around your ribs and sank its teeth in.

"Send it," Victor said. Smooth. Unbothered. Like he was offering a second glass of wine instead of nudging a knife between old ribs.

Elias didn't look up. The words were light enough, said with that same velvet amusement Victor always wore when the world bent the way he wanted. But there was something underneath now. Something that made the cabin air feel thinner, like it had been filtered twice through something ancient and waiting.

His thumb hovered above the screen.

Victor remained perfectly still in the opposite seat, hands folded, one leg crossed over the other like he had all the time in the world. The robe he wore shifted slightly with the car's motion, and the edge of a burn scar peeked out from beneath the collar, faint, old, but too precise to be accidental. Too close to his heart.

If Elias had looked up, he would've seen the smile, his red eyes glowing with the promise of destruction, of death. 

"You want answers, don't you?" Victor said softly, as if they were sharing a private joke. "Let him squirm a little."

Elias's breath caught. He tapped once. Sent.

And Victor, still smiling, still lounging like a god bored of his own temple, just nodded once. "Good."

As if nothing in the world had ever mattered more.