The words reverberated through Gabriel’s chest, like a tremor, a ripple in his very soul.
’My mark.’
Gabriel fought the urge to react, to succumb to the strange heat that had spread throughout his body, fueled by Damian’s presence. He could feel his pulse in his throat, the raw tension of the mont stretching thin. But he wouldn’t let Damian see it. Not yet. Not when the price was so high.
"I..." Gabriel began, but the words caught in his throat. What was he supposed to say? That he would never allow Damian to take control of him? That he would never let himself be a possession?
Damian stepped closer still, his voice soft, almost coaxing. "You’re already mine, Gabriel." His fingers brushed Gabriel’s jaw, a gentle caress that sent a rush of heat through his body. "You just don’t know it yet."
And in that mont, Gabriel’s world tilted. He didn’t know what to believe anymore; he didn’t know whether he was resisting because he was afraid of losing himself or because a small, dangerous part of him was already falling.
Gabriel clenched his fingers against Damian’s heavy robe, the gold embroidery scratching his skin as his mind raced through all possible scenarios. He did not trust Damian. Not when the Emperor wielded absolute power and Gabriel was left with only fragnted mories and a mark he barely recognized.
But Damian knew. And that was dangerous.
Golden eyes looked at him, expectant but patient, the weight of Damian’s presence pressing against Gabriel like a silent demand.
After a long mont, Gabriel finally spoke. "You are asking to exchange one chain for another."
Damian exhaled a quiet chuckle. "Perhaps. But at least this ti, you’d know who holds the key."
Gabriel clenched his jaw. And would that make it any better?
His mind reeled at the implications. If Damian was correct, and he could break the contract, Gabriel was not simply bound by his past. He was claid in ways he hadn’t even considered.
Damian was now offering to rewrite the claim.
It was absurd. Terrifying. Infuriating.
Gabriel forced himself to breathe evenly. "You expect to decide sothing like this right now?"
Damian tilted his head slightly, a shadow of amusent flickering across his face. "No."
Gabriel blinked. He hadn’t expected that.
Damian’s fingers, still resting lightly against his waist, finally withdrew. "I am not going to force you, Gabriel," he said calmly. "But I won’t wait forever either."
The words were casual, but Gabriel could feel the weight behind them. A warning. A promise.
’He’s lying; the mont he loses his patience, he will hunt down.’ The tought made Gabriel shiver; he was right before. He shouldn’t return to the capital, not now, not ever.
"You have ti," Damian continued, straightening. "Decide what you want to do."
Gabriel exhaled slowly, his heart still hamring beneath his ribs. "And if I refuse?"
Damian studied him for a long mont, then gave a small, unreadable smile. "Then we’ll find out what happens next."
Sothing in his tone sent a chill down Gabriel’s spine.
Before he could respond, Damian took a step back, giving him space for the first ti since this conversation had begun.
"Go," the Emperor said, as if granting him a rare rcy. "Think carefully."
Gabriel hesitated just long enough to be certain that Damian wouldn’t stop him. Then, without another word, he turned and left, his footsteps steady even as his thoughts swirled into chaos.
Behind him, Damian remained on the balcony, watching as Gabriel disappeared into the palace halls.
The atmosphere was thick with tension as Gabriel walked away from the balcony, the weight of Damian’s words still heavy in the air. His heart pounded, his thoughts a chaotic blur. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. All he knew was that the Emperor’s grip on him had tightened, leaving him teetering on the verge of an abyss he could not quite comprehend.
He expected to feel relieved—to have the freedom to choose. Instead, all he felt was the unsettling silence that followed Damian’s promise.
’He won’t wait forever,’ those words echoed in his mind, a sharp reminder of the power Damian wielded over him, over everything.
As he moved through the palace halls, Gabriel struggled to clear his mind. The grand ball was still in full swing, the music a distant hum against his skin, but all the lavish gowns and gilded walls seed pointless now. He was a prisoner, and the chains had only changed form.
The mark on his skin burned faintly, reminding him of the contract beneath it, the magic that bound him to sothing he did not want to know. He knew Damian had the ability to break the bond, but at what cost? Could he trust the Emperor? Could he find another royal to break the contract?
If Damian’s claims were true, Olivier most likely put the contract on him; Gabriel and George Claymore had already suspected this.
What does it an to be royal? Royal blood as his imdiate family, or his children? This makes no sense.’
"Gabriel."
Theo was the first to catch up with him. His older brother moved like a shadow, slipping between dancers and diplomats until he was right next to Gabriel. His green eyes swept over him with sharp precision, capturing every detail.
"Are you alright?" Theo’s voice was low, tinged with worry about what had happened earlier.
Before Gabriel could answer, Charles appeared on his other side, drink in hand, his expression unreadable. "I thought we agreed you would avoid drawing attention and not go waltzing onto a balcony with the Emperor." He was as worried as Theodore; Gabriel could see his parents on the other side of the ballroom making their way to him.
It was going to be a long night.
Gabriel exhaled sharply and, without hesitation, plucked the glass from Charles’s hand and took a sip. The alcohol burned down his throat, a temporary distraction from the weight on his chest.
Charles raised an eyebrow. "You’re welco."
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