Chapter 39: Rose 

Victor's response came not in words at first, but in a soft, incredulous breath that slid into a low, dark laugh, far too pleased for Elias's taste.

The kind of laugh that didn't belong to someone caught off guard, but to someone who'd been waiting for this exact answer all along.

"You," he repeated, tasting the word like wine, letting it linger as though it were sweeter than it should be. His head tilted a fraction, that loose strand of dark hair slipping lower over his brow, the terrace lights skimming over the sharp angles of his face and catching again on those ruby cuffs.

"Ah," he murmured finally, voice silken, threading amusement through something Elias couldn't quite name. "And yet…" His crimson eyes narrowed, slow and deliberate, raking over Elias as though mapping every fracture in his composure. "…you're choosing to be here."

Elias's stomach tightened. He hated the truth of it, hated the iron taste of it in his mouth. "Would you let me go?" 

Victor's eyes softened, no, not softened, sharpened, the way a blade gleams brighter when drawn closer to the light.

He didn't answer right away. He let the question breathe, let it hang between them like something fragile and doomed.

"Let you go?" he repeated, quiet, thoughtful, as though Elias had just asked him whether the sea would stop the tide if asked politely enough.

His gaze drifted lower, catching the tension in Elias's shoulders, the way his fingers tightened imperceptibly around the phone, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. When his eyes rose again, crimson and steady, they carried a weight that stole the night's chill from the air.

Victor leaned in until Elias felt the warmth of him again, close, steady, a shadow dressed in custom-made clothing. His voice, when it came, was calm enough to be terrifying.

"I don't take things I intend to lose," Victor said, a whisper meant for the space between them. "And I don't let go of what's already mine."

The words were soft, deceptively so, but the weight beneath them pressed against Elias's chest like an invisible hand, stealing the air from his lungs.

Victor's mouth curved into the kind of smile that didn't need warmth to be devastating, the kind of smile that belonged to someone who had already decided how the story would end.

"I will have to leave for a few days," Victor said, his voice smooth as polished stone, carrying that quiet authority that didn't ask for obedience but assumed it. "Business. Enjoy your new home while I'm gone. Your data has been recovered, and if you need to visit the labs, you may. Security will accompany you."

Elias's grip on his phone tightened, the edges digging into his palm, his heart stuttering against his ribs. "For shielding me," he asked, voice low and strained, "or watching me, making sure I don't run?"

Victor's gaze didn't flicker. His smile didn't change.

"Both," he said simply, and the certainty in that single word sank like a blade through velvet.

He didn't wait for Elias to reply. He closed the last step between them with that same unhurried elegance, the night air shifting with him, his scent brushing over Elias's senses like dark smoke and something older, heavier.

Victor leaned in, his presence coiling tighter, and pressed a kiss against Elias's cheek.

It was soft. Far too soft for the storm it carried.

His lips lingered just a breath too long, a phantom heat left behind as he drew back, crimson eyes gleaming with something Elias couldn't name, possession, maybe, or something worse.

Then Victor turned, the movement fluid, effortless, and walked back through the terrace door, vanishing into the quiet of the suite as if the night itself had swallowed him whole.

Elias stood frozen, his breath shallow, the cold railing biting at his spine.

And then his knees buckled.

He hit the stone floor hard enough to make his ankle flare, his hands catching against it, the sting of half‑healed scrapes grounding him in a reality that suddenly felt too sharp. His phone slid from his grip, landing facedown with a dull sound.

His chest tightened, his vision blurring as the night air pressed in. There was no safety here. Not in these walls. Not with a literal god who smiled when he said both.

Not with someone whose kiss felt like a claim.

The thought struck him like a blow, and for the first time since this began, Elias felt the burn of tears in his eyes… because he realized, with a hollow twist of dread, that there might not be a way out.

—

Matteo's apartment was too small for the kind of pacing he was doing, but he didn't stop.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

The night pressed against the windows, city lights flickering far below, but his thoughts weren't here. They were in that hallway, replaying every word, every mistake, every second that led to this.

He had known working with that alpha was a bad idea.

He had told himself it was temporary, controlled, and a necessary evil. He'd told himself he could keep Elias safe by playing along, by making sure the others didn't get too close too fast. And now?

Now Elias was in Victor Numen's manor.

Matteo stopped moving only to press both palms flat against the wall, head lowered, breath uneven. He wanted to blame the alpha, gods, he should blame him. He was the one who broke protocol, who turned pressure into a hunt, who shoved Elias into a corner hard enough to make him bolt.

But no matter how many times Matteo turned the thought over, it didn't change the truth:

He'd been part of it.

The alpha was gone now. Victor had said it cleanly enough over the encrypted channels, dead, but Matteo knew better. Knew Victor. Knew what it meant when someone simply… vanished. Death might have been merciful compared to whatever else Victor could do.

Matteo's jaw locked as he dragged a hand through his hair, pacing again. His mind spun with a thousand unfinished sentences, with plans that didn't matter anymore.

He'd been working the angles, balancing both sides, trying to buy Elias time. And now Victor had him.

Victor.

Matteo's chest tightened. He hated the thought of Elias standing there, trying to pretend he wasn't terrified, while a man like that smiled at him. He hated knowing that all his warnings, all his carefully measured words, hadn't been enough.

He didn't even hear the first buzz of his phone.

The second one made him turn, quick and sharp, to the table. The screen lit up, bright in the dimness, and for a split second, he didn't breathe.

Elias:

I'm not forgiving you. 

Matteo's heart stuttered.

When you're ready to apologize, bring a rose with you. 

Matteo froze mid‑step, the words on the screen sinking in like stones dropped into deep water.

He read them again.

And again.

His first instinct was anger, aimed at himself as much as at Elias. Then confusion, because Elias hated roses, hated them, and had once ripped an entire bouquet apart petal by petal in high school. 

'So why…'

'Why would he…'

Matteo's breath hitched as the thought hit him with a clean, cold clarity.

'Ruo.'

Ruo's name, Ruoxi, meant rose in her grandmother's language. 

Matteo sat down hard on the edge of the couch, phone clutched in his hand like it might break. His pulse thudded in his ears, drowning out the city noise, the hum of the apartment, everything.

Elias was telling him, no, ordering him, to find Ruo.

Matteo dragged both hands down his face, his breath sharp and uneven. His knee bounced rapidly as the weight of it all settled on him.

The alpha who'd been with him, the one who had pressed too hard, was gone, probably in pieces Victor wouldn't let anyone find. Elias was in Victor's grip now, caged in some mansion Matteo couldn't breach, and somehow, somehow, he'd still found a way to slip a message through the cracks.

A rose.

Matteo's mouth tightened. He set the phone on the table, staring at it like it might speak again. He felt sick, the kind of sick that came with too many possibilities, too many enemies, and far too little time.

"Ruo…" he whispered to the empty room, and for the first time in hours, the pacing stopped.

Because now there was something else to do.

Something that might still matter.

And if Victor, if that man, thought Matteo was going to sit still while Elias called for help in code, then he'd forgotten exactly who he was dealing with.

Matteo's jaw set, sharp and determined.

He stood, grabbed his coat, and slid the phone into his pocket.

It was time to find the rose.