CHAPTER 145: CHAPTER 145: POSITIVE

"You know, there is nothing more to find out. Master and the rest have already dug deeper than you alone ever could," Ashwin said lazily, twirling one of Elias’s pens between his fingers before letting it click against his knuckles.

Elias’s head snapped up, mock irritation flashing sharply across his face. "Why are you here again?" He shoved back from his desk, chair scraping against the floor, and turned toward the man sprawled across his sofa like he owned the place.

Ashwin looked perfectly at ease, one arm draped along the backrest, his boots crossed at the ankle. The same man who never dared so much as breathe wrong in Victor’s presence now sat in his study as if he were slumming.

"To watch you," Ashwin replied, unbothered, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. His smile edged on insolence. "You have a history of getting into trouble while Master Victor isn’t here..." He flicked the pen across the small table, letting it clatter once before it rolled to a stop. "Well... more like trouble keeps finding you."

Elias exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing his hands flat against the desk before they curled into fists. "So what is this? Babysitting duty?" His tone was ice-edged, meant to cut. "Or are you just here to waste my time while I work?"

Ashwin smirked, tipping his head back against the sofa cushion. "Both, maybe. Depends on how much you try to convince yourself you’ll find answers in papers Clarke already sanitized ten years ago."

Elias pushed off from the desk and crossed the room with measured steps, reclaiming the pen from the table with a flick of his fingers. He twirled it once, sharp and precise, before aiming a pointed look at Ashwin. "If you’re here to insult my intelligence, you’re doing a poor job. Clarke may have sanitized those papers, but people always leave crumbs. Even Jonathan."

Ashwin let out a soft laugh, low and amused. "Crumbs. You’re digging through moldy archives for breadcrumbs while Victor’s already burning the bakery down. Efficient use of your time."

"Better than sitting on my sofa, contributing nothing but noise," Elias shot back, sliding the pen into his pocket like a weapon reclaimed. "At least my work doesn’t involve napping in other people’s living rooms."

Ashwin grinned, unabashed. "Bold of you to assume this isn’t work. Watching you unravel is more exhausting than half the missions I’ve pulled."

Elias snorted, tugging the blanket back around his shoulders before dropping into the chair across from him. "If this is what counts as a mission, I pity Victor for the quality of his men."

"Careful," Ashwin drawled, though his grin only sharpened. "Keep insulting me like that and I might tell him you’re slandering the workforce. Then you’ll have more than me cluttering up your study."

"You should be careful; just the implication of you flirting with me would make Victor mad."

"Hah! So you finally admit you know your power?"

"More like I’m mentally accepting it," Elias muttered with a sigh, sinking into the armchair. His head tipped back, eyes closing against the faint ache still dragging at his chest. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with my life now?"

Ashwin tilted his head, studying him with lazy amusement. "Strange question from someone who just got upgraded from ghost in the family ledger to mate of the god who owns half the skyline."

"That’s the problem." Elias cracked one eye open, his mouth twisting. "I used to measure my success in things I could hold. Articles. Research. A degree no one could take back. Now every part of it feels like it was written under Clarke’s shadow, and everything else..." He gestured vaguely at the room, at the manor, at the silent weight of Victor’s protection. "...doesn’t feel like mine."

Ashwin tipped his head back and laughed, loud and unrepentant. "There it is. Acceptance, stage one: realizing you’re the leash around the god’s throat."

Elias groaned, dragging a hand down his face before letting it drop against the armrest. "Leash, stabilizer, guinea pig... it’s all the same branding. Just depends on who’s doing the labeling."

Ashwin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a grin curving a little too sly. "Difference is, Clarke writes you into ledgers, Victor writes you into eternity. One sounds a hell of a lot more comfortable than the other."

Elias gave him a flat look. "Comfortable? You call being tied to a man who bends space when he feels dramatic comfortable"?

Ashwin’s smirk widened. "Better than being tied to Jonathan Clarke, who can’t bend anything except contracts."

That earned a faint huff of air from Elias, almost a laugh, though it cracked sharp around the edges. He leaned his head back against the chair, brown eyes catching the light from the desk lamp. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with my life now? I built everything around being overlooked. And now every plan I had feels like paper burning in his hands."

Ashwin studied him for a moment, amusement softening into something almost thoughtful. "Maybe that’s the point. Forgettable doesn’t suit you. Never did. You just got good at pretending it did."

Elias arched a brow at him, dry as ever. "Did Victor coach you to say that? Or is this your attempt at wisdom?"

"Both." Ashwin leaned back, throwing his arms along the sofa again. "I like to multitask."

Elias groaned. "If you start with the soulmates, I’m throwing you out of here."

Ashwin grinned, sharp and unrepentant. "Relax. I’m not suicidal enough to give you Victor’s sermon word-for-word. The man’s been rehearsing it in his head since the day you walked into his life."

Elias gave him a look dry enough to peel paint. "Comforting. I’ve gone from ignored Clarke to obsession material for a god with too much free time."

"Obsession?" Ashwin snorted. "Please. If that’s what you call it, then I’ve been underestimating the man. Whole city feels different when you’re around. Like he finally found the one thing keeping him from torching it all."

Elias tilted his head back against the chair, staring at the ceiling as if the plaster might offer answers. "That sounds more like a leash than a soulmate."

Ashwin huffed, throwing his arms wide in a vague, exasperated gesture. "Can you be more positive? This," he gestured to the manor, to the desk stacked with papers, to the blanket still clutched around Elias’s shoulders, "is yours. And Victor is more than happy to give you whatever you want. Not everything is a trap."

Elias’s mouth twitched, halfway between a smirk and a grimace. "Spoken like a man who’s never been in a Clarke dining room."

"Spoken like a man who knows how not to look a gift god in the mouth," Ashwin shot back, leaning forward, grin returning with an edge. "You’re the only person alive who could have Victor wrapped around your finger and still sit there acting like someone’s waiting to pull the rug out from under you."

"That’s because they are," Elias muttered, bitter as coffee grounds. His eyes dropped to his hands, fingers tightening around the armrest. "They always are."

Ashwin tilted his head, studying him with a look that was too sharp to be lazy. "Maybe. But you’re not theirs anymore. That makes all the difference."

The silence stretched a beat, heavier than either of them liked. Then Elias snorted, dragging the blanket tighter. "God, you’re worse than Victor when you try to be comforting."

Ashwin’s grin widened, smug and unrepentant. "Yeah, but you didn’t tell me to shut up, so I’m clearly doing something right."

Elias opened his mouth to argue but stopped.

The air shifted. Subtle at first, like a hum behind the walls, a vibration running through the marrow rather than the floorboards. His hand stilled on the armrest, brown eyes flicking toward the desk lamp as its light wavered against the plaster.

"Ashwin," he said slowly, the word tasting wrong in his throat.