[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction Chapter 106: Marriage’s not on the list

"Samael."

Static crackled before the line steadied, the man’s voice clipped and tight. "Victor. Matteo’s remains, what we recovered from the last incident, were sent down for standard disposal processing."

Victor’s gaze sharpened, though his body remained a study in stillness, one hand resting with casual elegance against the stem of his glass. "And why," he asked, each word a deliberate blade, "would the CEO of NunCorp call himself about garbage detail?"

On the other end, Samael’s breath hitched like he’d expected that exact rebuke. "Because the garbage didn’t stay dead."

Elias’s fork stilled mid-air.

Samael pressed on, words too quick to be anything but real. "The body moved. Sat up. Caras caught him walking out of containnt like nothing had ever happened. Our staff managed to install a tracker, standard procedure for disposal, but the signal... it’s not random." A pause, weighted. "He’s heading sowhere with purpose. Clarke’s estate."

Victor’s eyes flicked to Elias across the table, crimson bright with sothing that hovered between amusent and calculation. He didn’t speak right away, only let the silence stretch until Samael cleared his throat on the line.

Then, smooth and quiet: "Send the footage. And the feed from the tracker. If he’s walking toward Clarke’s doorstep, I want to see every step."

Elias’s grip tightened around the fork, the tension humming in his jaw the only betrayal of the impact.

Victor leaned back, voice still silken but edged now with iron. "Keep him alive until I say otherwise. If the dead want to walk, I’ll decide where their feet take them."

"Mira would send everything and you decide what we are going to do about it. Victor... Dissidents are moving; I know you didn’t care about it... but maybe you should, at least for Elias."

Victor’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "For Elias?" The words ca out soft, too soft, the kind of softness that pressed until it bruised.

On the other end, Samael hesitated, rare for soone like him, but telling. "He’s already on their maps, Victor. If Matteo’s walking again and heading to Clarke’s estate, that isn’t coincidence. They’re circling him. You can’t just..."

"I can," Victor cut in, his tone the kind of certainty that didn’t allow for alternatives. His gaze lingered on Elias, the way his mate sat rigid but silent, fork set down with exaggerated care beside the untouched fennel. "And I will. You concern yourself with labs and trackers, Samael. Leave Elias to ."

The faint static on the line carried Samael’s exhale, sharp and disbelieving. "You sound as though he’s a fortress, not a man."

Victor’s lips curved, though there was no warmth in it. "He is both. And I don’t hand fortresses to dissidents."

He ended the call without a farewell, laying the phone back onto the table as though it had never belonged anywhere else.

Crimson eyes returned to Elias, steady, unflinching. "Your father’s na seems to attract the strangest company," Victor murmured, as if comnting on the weather.

"And here I thought after yesterday he would be too scared to go against you."

Victor’s smile flickered, all teeth and no softness. "Fear doesn’t cure arrogance. It only teaches n how far they can lean before their spine breaks."

Elias’s mouth curved, though the humor never reached his eyes. "And you’d know exactly where to apply the pressure."

"I already did," Victor said, voice low, almost indulgent. "Your father ca to my manor like a beggar dressed in silk, thinking he might find you alone. Instead, he found ." He lifted his glass, letting the last of the wine catch the light before swallowing it down as if washing away the mory. "I was rciful enough to remind him that gods are not bound by mortal doors."

Elias’s fingers tightened against his water glass, the faintest tremor suppressed before it could betray him. "You an you enjoyed watching him realize what you are."

Victor’s crimson eyes ward, not with cruelty but with that unshakable, unbothered certainty. "I enjoyed reminding him that you are mine."

The words sat between them, heavy as iron, threaded with a truth Elias couldn’t quite push aside. He leaned back, fork abandoned, dark eyes steady on Victor. "You’re awfully quick to call yours when the world keeps trying to drag back under his na."

Victor tilted his head, the gesture patient, predatory, unhurried. "Maybe I should give my na too, not only the bond."

"No." Elias’s answer ca too fast, too sharp, the edge of panic flickering beneath his tone. He looked almost horrified at the idea of marriage. "I’m not marrying you after two weeks of living in your house, not from choice, and certainly not a day after you bit ."

Victor didn’t flinch. His crimson eyes softened into sothing dangerously close to amusent, the kind of unbothered calm that could turn defiance into indulgence. He reached for his glass, swirling the last remnants of wine before drinking it down as though Elias’s refusal were nothing more than weather.

"Plus, don’t you have to deal with Matteo? How did he co back to life?" Elias asked, the words a little too quick, too sharp, like a man flinging a stone just to shatter the air between them.

Victor set the glass down, fingertips brushing the stem as though savoring the weight. "You think switching subjects saves you." His voice carried that velvet patience that never failed to feel like a trap. "But fine. Matteo..." His mouth curved faintly, though his eyes stayed hard. "Bodies don’t co back, Elias. They’re dragged. If he’s walking again, soone is pulling the strings, and whoever it is thinks Clarke’s house is worth the spectacle."

Elias stilled, his pulse betraying the unease his expression refused to show. "You make it sound like a warning."

Victor leaned forward slightly, elbows resting against the table, the candlelight catching on the sharp planes of his face. "It is. But not for ." His gaze pinned Elias with quiet finality. "For you."