CHAPTER 141: CHAPTER 141: OPTIONS OF CLARKE FAMILY

Connor stretched lazily in his chair, as though he had all the time in the world to irritate Elias. "You know, Clarke, you’ve got a talent. Never thought anyone could keep him," he jerked his chin at Victor, "from leveling a city block when he’s in a mood. And yet here you are. Blanket, coffee, bite marks. Efficient system."

Elias didn’t even blink. "You’re mistaking survival tactics for efficiency. A common error among men who think humor compensates for mediocrity."

Connor barked a laugh, bright and sharp. "God, no wonder he likes you."

Samael’s brows drew together, the sharp lines of his face tightening as he glanced between them. "Hold on." His voice cut through with quiet authority. "You sound like you’ve known each other for years."

Elias’s mouth curved, wry and almost cruel. "We met once. At a restaurant. He was leaving with an omega by his arm." He took a sip of his coffee. "Thanks to that meeting and her disdain for my comfortable suit, I had a shopping day with Victor."

Connor’s grin split wide, teeth flashing as he leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. "Ah, that night. I remember. She was furious you stole his attention without even trying."

Elias tilted his head, brown eyes cool over the rim of his mug. "Furious is generous. She looked at me like I’d crawled out from under the tablecloth. Apparently, my suit didn’t meet the standards of whatever boutique vomited hers."

Victor’s hand tightened once at Elias’s shoulder, crimson gaze sliding toward Connor with a warning glint. "She’s irrelevant. And Elias looked better in that suit than anyone else in the room."

Connor’s laugh barked out sharp and delighted. "Oh, I don’t doubt it. You made her cry in the bathroom after, by the way. Word spread fast."

Elias arched a brow, unimpressed. "What a tragedy. Someone tell the press." He set his latte back on the saucer, tugging the blanket tighter around him. "Victor dragged me to a dozen stores the next morning. I considered filing it under ’harassment,’ but apparently it counts as bonding."

"Bonding," Connor echoed, grinning so wide it looked dangerous. "That’s one word for it."

Samael’s frown deepened, his voice cutting across their exchange like steel. "So you’re telling me you’ve spoken twice in your lives, once at a restaurant and now here, and you already bicker like this?"

Elias’s smile sharpened. "Why waste time building rapport when disdain works faster?"

Connor threw his head back and laughed, full-bodied, with no shame in it. "I like you, Clarke. You might be the first one to keep up with me."

Victor’s thumb brushed Elias’s collarbone again, his voice low and velvet-dark. "Careful or I will make you foot the bill."

Connor blinked, then leaned back in his chair, still grinning. "Foot the bill? What, for your shopping spree or for keeping him entertained?"

Victor’s crimson gaze cut toward him, steady as a blade’s edge. "For breathing too close to what’s mine."

Connor’s grin only widened, sharp as broken glass. "Ah, there it is. The threat I was waiting for." He gestured lazily toward Elias. "See, Clarke? This is what devotion looks like in real time. Breathe wrong and I get fined."

Elias didn’t bother looking at him, fingers curling more firmly around his latte. "Good. Maybe if he charges you enough, you’ll finally learn the value of silence."

That earned another bark of laughter from Connor, but this one tapered into something softer, almost appreciative. "Sharp. No wonder he glows after a night with you."

Samael finally pinched the bridge of his nose, voice dropping low and cutting. "Enough." His gaze swept across the three of them, irritation plain. "You two spar like you’ve been doing this for years, and he..." he flicked his chin toward Victor. "encourages it. But we are not here for entertainment. We’re here because Adler’s paper has Elias’s initials in it. Because the Clarke family doesn’t do anything without knives hidden under their words. And because time is running short."

Victor’s hand on Elias’s shoulder tightened again, grounding, claiming, the quiet contrast to Samael’s clipped precision. His voice, when it came, was velvet-threaded. with steel. "And I told you already, Samael. Those knives don’t touch him. They’ll break in my hands before they come close."

Connor lounged back with his mug, steam curling into the space between them. "But this wasn’t just some backroom pet project. They’ve been pouring money into labs since before you hit puberty, Clarke. Ten years old, maybe earlier. And guess whose little pet golden boy was already sniffing around those papers?"

Elias’s grip on his latte faltered, the ceramic warm but suddenly too heavy in his hands. He forced his voice flat. "Adler."

Connor’s grin sharpened. "Bingo."

Samael finally took the chair opposite them, his posture all precision and edges. "We’ve tracked at least four additional papers, none published openly, all tucked behind the same network Adler used. All note a stabilizer variable. None by name, but the initials never change." His gaze fixed pointedly on Elias. "E.C."

Elias swallowed hard, his throat tight. His lips curved wry despite it, his tone dry as sandpaper. "So they were watching me before I even knew I existed as more than a mistake."

"Not watching," Samael corrected, voice clipped. "Cataloging."

Elias’s laugh came low, bitter, a sound that scraped at the quiet. "Lovely. I was a ledger entry before I lost my baby teeth."

Victor’s thumb pressed firmer into his shoulder, crimson gaze narrowing dangerously, but Connor cut in before he spoke. "Here’s the fun part. They’re not just pushing Adler to ascend anymore. Your darling sister Anna’s carrying his child, isn’t she?"

Elias’s head snapped toward him, eyes dark. "You’ve been digging."

"Of course we have," Connor said easily, sipping his coffee like it was a game. "And what do we see? Clarke isn’t betting all their knives on Adler. They’re betting on her womb. On that unborn brat being the one to pull it off. Adler ascends; sure, he’s useful. But Anna’s child? That’s their prize."

Samael leaned forward, voice low but unflinching. "They knew what you could do when you were ten. Adler knew it too. But they didn’t move because they thought they had time. Now they’ve set their sights elsewhere. You’re not the heir to their plan anymore, Elias. The stabilizer. Disposable if necessary."

The words landed like cold iron. Elias’s chest tightened, the taste of bitterness rising thick in his throat. He set the latte down before it could slip from his fingers, tugging the blanket higher around him like armor.

"Disposable." His voice was quiet but sharp enough to cut. "That’s always been their favorite word for me."

Victor’s hand slid from his shoulder to the back of his neck, steady and unyielding. His voice when it came was velvet-dark, each word carrying the weight of a vow. "Not anymore."