Elias sat stiffly under the blanket, his jaw tight, the taste of bitterness still burning on his tongue. The room pressed too close, Connor’s grin was too sharp, and Samael’s gaze was too steady, but it was Victor’s voice that cut through all of it.
"Jonathan Clarke is a fool," Victor said, flat, velvet-dark. Crimson eyes narrowed, gleaming with a fire that made Connor’s smirk falter. "If Adler ascends, he’ll burn through the sky before he ever bends to their leash. Gods don’t tolerate masters. If anything, he would tear the Clarks apart just to prove he could."
Samael’s frown deepened. "Unless they think the stabilizer changes that equation."
Elias frowned, his gaze fixed on the rim of his coffee as though the answer might settle there if he stared long enough. The word on the page had been neutral, clinical: stabilizer. Nothing rare nor extraordinary, just a function.
And that was what stung the most. His family had never treated him like he was anything more than background noise, an accident tolerated because erasing him would have been ssy. Important? No. Never. If he had mattered, they would have said so, shown it, or even twisted it into sothing cruel. But they hadn’t. They had ignored him, dismissed him, and hated him at the edges without ever granting him significance.
Anna only called once a year, just long enough to remind him she had everything he didn’t: status, praise, and their parents’ approval. She never asked about him and never cared what he was building or breaking. If he had truly been vital, she wouldn’t have let that silence stretch year after year.
His hand tightened around the mug until the ceramic creaked. "The paper doesn’t even make sound important," he muttered, his voice low, rough with the kind of bitterness that didn’t fade even after years of practice. "Just... stabilizer. You don’t write papers about how precious your stabilizer is; you just note it down so people know what to use it for." He swallowed hard, setting the cup down before it cracked in his grip. "That’s all I’ve ever been to them."
The admission left a hollowness in his chest, as though saying it aloud carved the truth deeper. "So why now? Why slip my initials into research ten years ago if they never once treated like I mattered? If I was really crucial, they could’ve used a hundred different ways. But they didn’t. They didn’t because..." His breath caught, his shoulders stiff. "Because maybe I never was."
Connor leaned back in his chair, expression sharpening with sothing more serious than his grin. "Well, that would be fun to find out."
Before Elias could roll his eyes at him, his phone buzzed against the table. The sharp vibration cut through the low hum of conversation, jolting him. He reached for it, pulling the screen closer, and the na flashing across it made his stomach tighten.
Monica.
He swiped it open, scanning the short lines once, twice, to make sure he hadn’t misread.
Your father is asking Prof. Stone why you’re missing from the lab entries. They demand an explanation, as they are funding your research lab. They want you here. Don’t co.
The words blurred for a beat, his grip on the phone tightening until his knuckles ached.
Of course. Of course they hadn’t left him alone. His father’s shadow stretched long even here, pulling at threads Elias had thought were his. His work. His project. His PhD. All of it under a leash he hadn’t seen until now.
A bitter laugh almost escaped him, but it snagged in his throat, breaking into sothing closer to a scoff. "They’re already asking questions," he muttered, setting the phone down with more force than necessary. "About . About where I’ve been."
Victor’s hand, warm and heavy at his shoulder, tightened instantly, the pressure a tether. He leaned down, crimson eyes flicking over the phone with unhurried precision, as if every word had already sealed soone’s fate.
The silence stretched, taut enough that Elias almost regretted letting him read it. Then Victor laughed. Low. Sharp. The kind of laugh that didn’t reach his smile but glead like a knife in the dark.
"Oh," Victor murmured, velvet-dark, voice humming with amusent so dangerous it made the hair at the back of Elias’s neck rise. "They want you away from ."
Elias’s lips twitched, caught between disbelief and another bitter laugh. "That’s what they think this is? That I’ll just walk back because Jonathan Clarke whistles?"
Victor straightened, the glow of that ruthless certainty radiating off him like heat. His thumb dragged once along Elias’s collarbone. "No, Elias. That’s what they hope."
His grin curved, wicked and sure. "And I’m going to enjoy teaching them just how badly they’ve miscalculated."
Samael’s lips finally curved, the kind of smile that wasn’t ant for comfort but for cutting deeper. His gaze caught Elias’s, steady enough to make him want to flinch but threaded with sothing almost gleeful.
"So they rembered you," Samael murmured, tilting his head as though the thought alone entertained him. "All those years of silence, and suddenly Jonathan Clarke wants to drag you back into his ledger. How poetic." His smile widened, teeth catching in the glow of the lamp. "He doesn’t even realize what he’s tugging on. He thinks you’re still just... a stabilizer."
The word dripped with derision, dangerous amusent sparking in his eyes.
Elias’s throat tightened. He hated the way the word sounded from anyone else’s mouth, but Samael wielded it like a blade, as if daring him to protest.
Victor, however, didn’t laugh. He was smiling, slow and dangerous, as though savoring the taste of Clarke’s desperation like a fine wine. He shifted his gaze to Connor, who tensed reflexively under it. "Sell your Clarke shares."
Connor blinked. "Excuse ?"
Victor’s grin widened, all teeth. "At market value it won’t sting. So sell them at a price so low it insults them. I’ll cover the difference, with interest. Consider it a gift."
Connor blinked, caught off guard. "Wait... you want to sell them cheap? That’ll tank the value."
Victor’s smile curved, slow and cutting, though his voice stayed almost conversational. "And? Let him squirm." His hand lingered on Elias’s shoulder, thumb brushing once against the fabric, a small, grounding pressure that contrasted with the sharpness of his words. "I had no intention of dealing with him. But if he reaches for my mate..." Victor’s crimson gaze flicked down to Elias, unhurried, certain. "...then I protect what’s mine."
Samael’s grin widened, dangerous amusent sparking in his eyes. "You’ll bleed him for pennies on the dollar. Poetic."
Connor whistled low under his breath, sinking back into his chair. "Now this shall be interesting to watch."
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