[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction

Elias stared at the sent message, the words glowing on the screen like they might burn through if he looked long enough.

I'm not forgiving you.

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

He knew he was watched. He could feel it, the weight of invisible eyes tucked somewhere in the shadows of the manor, the hum of security woven into the air itself. But there was a difference, wasn't there, between being watched by Victor's hired strangers and being watched by Victor himself?

And right now… he needed to gamble on that difference.

Elias set the phone down on the corner of the desk, the polished black surface catching his reflection in thin strips of lamplight.

His fingers brushed over the edge of the desk, his new desk, where the monitors sat dark now, the neat row of pencils aligned with ridiculous precision, and the folder with his name on the spine still waiting. He pulled his hand back quickly, as though the furniture itself might betray him.

The shower was through the adjoining door. He stripped as he went, leaving his old clothes folded in a quiet heap on the chair by the bed, as if that might somehow anchor him.

The water hit hot, almost scalding, steam curling up into the air like a shield, like something that could peel Victor's scent from his skin. He let it run down over the bruised line of his ankle, the scrapes on his hands, his shoulders stiff from too much tension and not enough safety.

It didn't help.

He could still feel the phantom heat of that kiss against his cheek, like a brand that water couldn't erase.

He closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the tile, his breath shaking just once before he forced it steady again.

When he stepped out, the steam followed him, clinging to his skin. A neatly folded set of pajamas waited on the bed, Adam's doing, most likely. Midnight‑blue silk, soft to the touch, expensive enough to make his throat tighten. He pulled them on slowly, the fabric sliding over his skin like something borrowed, too fine to really belong to him.

The room was too quiet when he turned off the light, the only sound the faint shift of fabric as he sank onto the bed.

He lay back against the cool sheets, staring at the ceiling, letting the darkness press in.

The phone stayed on the desk across the room, silent and still. He didn't look at it again.

Elias closed his eyes.

Sleep came slow, edged with the uneasy truth he couldn't escape… that whatever tomorrow brought, he was still in Victor's house.

—

Victor watched the city lights bleed across the car window, the motion smooth and steady, the hum of the engine almost meditative. He sat with one arm draped along the edge of the door, fingers loose, the other resting against his knee. The air in the cabin smelled faintly of leather and something sharper, metallic, his own scent lingering in the confined space.

His mind was not on the road.

It was still on the terrace, in the faint tremor in Elias's voice, and in the way Elias's eyes had flared when he asked, 'Would you let me go?'

Victor let out a soft breath that was almost a laugh, low and private. 'Would I let you go?'

'Not in this lifetime.'

The car slowed. Tires whispered against pavement as they turned off the main street, following the quiet pulse of lights that marked the perimeter of one of the Numen Labs. Not the public face of the empire's science division, no glass lobbies or polite security here. This place was shadowed, brutalist concrete cut by dark glass, all function and no charm. A place built to hold secrets. A place for work that would never make the press releases.

The vehicle eased to a stop beneath the overhang. Victor didn't move at first. He let the stillness stretch, eyes fixed on the faint reflection of himself in the dark glass ahead. The door opened only when he decided it should, and the night air folded over him as he stepped out, the click of his shoes soft on the concrete.

Inside, the lab smelled faintly of antiseptic and ozone. A hall of steel and white light opened before him, silent except for the distant hum of equipment. A man waited at the far end, stiff-backed, trying not to show nerves. Victor ignored him, his stride long and unhurried, until the corridor spilled into a room that wasn't on any blueprint.

Thomas Barker was there.

He was slumped in a reinforced chair, wrists bound in bands that glowed faintly with suppressors keyed to his genes. His head lifted as Victor entered, slow and deliberate, a predator sizing up another predator. His face was cut with bruises, one eye swollen, and a thin split in his lip dried dark. Yet even bound, even pinned by tech he couldn't outmaneuver, Thomas still radiated that coiled danger.

Victor's mouth curved faintly as he stepped closer, crimson eyes catching the sterile light, unhurried, amused.

"Thomas Barker," Victor said softly, tasting the name like a rare spice. "An alpha who sells his talents to the highest bidder. Kidnappings. Silent kills. Missing persons that never reappear." His voice was calm, almost conversational, as he circled the chair, hands loosely clasped behind his back. "You followed someone who belongs to me."

Thomas's jaw tightened, but he didn't speak. He just watched, eyes sharp, unyielding even now.

Victor's smile sharpened.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," he murmured, stepping in close, leaning down just enough that Thomas could feel the low pulse of alpha power threading the air. "You've done terrible things, Thomas. But targeting him…" Victor's gaze cut like glass. "…was the wrong contract."

Thomas's knuckles whitened against the restraints. Still, he said nothing.

Victor straightened, calm as ever, the smooth line of his suit catching the light as he turned toward the observation glass.

"Keep him alive," he said to no one in particular, his tone soft, almost bored. "Find out who the real contractor is; I doubt Elias's little cop friend knew the truth."

He didn't need to look back to know Thomas Barker's heart had spiked, just enough to betray that the word alive was not a kindness here.

Victor smiled faintly as he stepped out of the room, crimson eyes glinting under the lab's cold lights.

Elias's face flickered through his mind again, tired, defiant, breaking in quiet ways he hadn't expected. Victor exhaled slowly, the smallest crack of something like hunger shadowing his composure.