[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction Chapter 256: Corporate break

Victor set the tablet down with a click that was, by all technical standards, not violent.

It was fine.

It was fine.

It was just that the fourth executive this week had sent him a request marked urgent that was, in fact, not urgent. It was a schedule adjustnt for a gala he didn’t even plan to attend.

He could handle betrayal. Insubordination. Even the occasional assassination attempt made by soone with enough creativity to be briefly interesting.

What he could not handle, what he had never handled well, was idiocy in a tie with a badge that read Division Lead.

Victor exhaled slowly through his nose, pinched the bridge of it, and reminded himself that he was a god.

A god, unfortunately, pretending to work like a mortal man.

It had seed like a good idea at the ti. Keep the machine running. Keep people under the illusion that power could be earned and that loyalty was a structure, not a favor.

But this week had tried his patience in new and vibrant ways.

He leaned back in the desk chair, the leather cool against his skin, the soundproofed office a cocoon of silence now that the call queue had finally cleared. The screen in front of him blinked quietly, still open on a spreadsheet that no longer held his attention.

The mansion beyond the double doors was still.

He’d asked the staff not to disturb him. He hadn’t asked for Elias.

Which ant Elias had probably already claid a room, a blanket, and sothing violently processed to eat while making soone else carry it.

Victor smiled, faint but real.

He stood, rolled his shoulders once, and left the office before he could talk himself out of it.

The halls were dimly lit, warm against the winter outside. The kind of soft golden glow ant to trick the brain into believing nothing terrible had ever happened here.

Victor’s steps were soundless. Not because he was trying to be quiet, but because old habits died hard, and so did most people who heard him coming.

He followed the scent first.

Chili oil. Ashwin’s cologne. The faint sweetness of Elias’s shampoo and the electric note of his ether, always humming below the skin like a current waiting to be touched and the milky iris scent.

Victor found them in the sunken sitting room near the east wing windows. Snow flurried quietly outside, catching the edge of the winter light. Elias was curled into the corner of the sofa, half-buried in a blanket, bowl in hand, chopsticks moving with lazy satisfaction.

Ashwin sat across from him, a magazine in hand that he was clearly not reading.

Victor stepped into the doorway.

Ashwin looked up first. He didn’t salute, didn’t stand, and just tilted his head like a man preparing to be relieved of babysitting duty.

Victor nodded once.

Ashwin stood, bowed in that barely-there way bodyguards did when they were annoyed but too professional to show it, and left the room without a word.

Elias didn’t look up. "If you’re here to give a lecture on sodium content, you’re too late. The ran’s already gone."

"I’m not here for the ran," Victor said, stepping into the room.

Elias’s gaze lifted then, sharp under the fall of his bangs. "You’re here for a snack?"

Victor sat down beside him, one arm settling across the back of the couch with unhurried confidence. "I’m here for a break."

Elias blinked, like the words were in the wrong language. "You took a break. Voluntarily."

"I was at risk of incinerating soone via company Wi-Fi," Victor said calmly. "My options were limited."

Elias leaned into the cushions a little more, smirking faintly. "And your solution is bothering ."

"Of course." Victor turned slightly, enough that they were facing each other now. "You are far more entertaining than corporate mismanagent. And less flammable."

"That’s a bold assumption," Elias muttered, finishing the last of the broth and placing the bowl on the end table.

Victor watched him with the quiet amusent of soone preparing for their next attack.

"What are you doing now?" Elias asked, suspicious. "That look ans you’re about to do sothing."

"I am," Victor said. "You’ve been avoiding your project briefings. You’ve also not looked at the calendar I updated."

"That calendar is red, Victor."

"It is organized."

"It glows," Elias said flatly. "My screen heats up just opening it."

Victor reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slim white envelope. He handed it to Elias without explanation.

Elias hesitated, then took it.

He opened it slowly, half-expecting a security clearance or a dinner invitation from Ego.

He was right; on expensive ivory paper was the invitation written in gold.

"Please tell this isn’t gold."

Victor didn’t answer imdiately.

Instead, he leaned back against the couch like a man thoroughly satisfied with himself, one arm draped behind Elias as if the weight of his smugness needed extra support.

Elias stared at the invitation again. The letters did shine under the low light. Too warm to be ink. Too reflective to be fake.

"Please tell this isn’t actual gold," Elias said again, flatter this ti.

Victor finally looked at him, eyes glinting. "Of course it’s gold. Do you think Ego would not commission embossed 24-karat calligraphy to announce the first engagent in the family?"

Elias didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just stared at the invitation like it might explode if he acknowledged it too quickly.

"This is for the engagent gala," he said, voice level in that way that ant he was on the edge of declaring war. "Not the wedding."

Victor inclined his head, the barest nod of a man who had very clearly planned an ambush. "Naturally. The wedding is in May. You’ve seen the calendar."

"I skimd the calendar and nearly went blind," Elias muttered, turning the card over in his hand. "This paper has a weight class, Victor. It probably has a pedigree. Do you even know how many people are coming?"

Victor’s smile was subtle, far too subtle for what he said next. "Ego approved the preliminary list last night. Only seven hundred."

Elias made a sound that didn’t quite qualify as a word. "Seven hundred."

"It’s a modest affair by Nun standards."

"Victor," Elias said slowly, deliberately, "this is a trap. You know that, right?"

Victor looked absolutely unbothered. "It’s a celebration."

"It’s a political declaration."

"That too," he allowed.

Elias dropped the invitation back into Victor’s lap like it burned. "So help , if your father has enter while a string quartet is playing the company jingle, I will smite soone."

Victor didn’t laugh. But his eyes glead with the rare, dangerous amusent of a man who had once set a man’s wristwatch on fire just to make a point about punctuality. "That’s a good idea. I’ll pass it along."

"No, you will not..." Elias began, sitting up.

But Victor was already reaching past him, plucking his phone from the side table, and typing sothing.

"Victor."

"Too late. I already texted Ego."

"Why are you like this?" Elias asked, despairing now.

Victor set the phone down, then leaned in close enough that his breath ward Elias’s jaw. "Because I love you."