CHAPTER 56: CHAPTER 56: VICTOR’S FURY (4)

They reached the final landing, a long corridor lined with reinforced doors, each etched with faint sigils that pulsed in rhythm with the wards. The air here was thick, the smell of burnt ozone lingering, a byproduct of ether clashes and forced restraints.

Ashwin led him to the third cell. Outside, two alphas stood watch, both broad-shouldered and still humming faint currents of golden and violet ether, ready but silent. One of them stepped aside immediately, unlocking the observation hatch. The faint sound of labored breathing seeped through.

Victor didn’t rush. He stepped forward with that same deliberate pace, shoes striking the stone with a measured rhythm. He looked through the narrow opening first.

Inside, the intruder sat on the floor, arms pinned behind him by restraints glowing faintly with sigils, knees bent awkwardly as he slumped against the wall. His jaw was bloodied, one eye swelling shut, but the dark green shimmer of his ether still flickered faintly, suppressed but not extinguished. He spat onto the floor, lifting his gaze just enough to meet the narrow slit of light.

Victor’s smile returned, sharper this time, his voice quiet as a blade sliding free of its sheath.

"Let’s see," he murmured, crimson threads already stirring at his fingertips, "how long you think you can hold out."

Ashwin didn’t look away, his arms folded as he stepped to the side, his voice low as he addressed Victor.

"He’s yours, my lord."

The reinforced door unlocked with a hydraulic hiss, the biometric panel’s light turning green under Victor’s hand. He pushed it open, stepping into the stark, steel‑lined detainment room. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, harsh white glare reflecting off the polished floor and the high‑tech restraints bolted to the chair at the center.

The man slumped in the chair looked up. His wrists were pinned in sleek carbon‑fiber cuffs etched with suppression glyphs that glowed a faint, steady blue. His breath rasped, shallow and uneven, but when he saw who had walked in, the blood drained from his face.

Victor’s presence hit the room like a pressure front, his dark coat shifting with the movement, the faint shimmer of crimson ether threading through the air vents, curling and dissipating like a heat mirage. Ashwin remained just inside the door, tablet in hand, eyes sharp as he monitored the vitals streaming on the screen.

Victor moved closer, slowly. The man tried to sit straighter, but the tremor in his shoulders betrayed him.

"You," Victor said softly, tilting his head as if sorting through memories. "I know you."

The alpha’s throat worked. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His eyes darted to the glowing cuffs, to the reinforced camera in the corner of the ceiling, and back to Victor. Recognition clicked, horror blooming in its wake.

Victor’s lips curved faintly, with nothing friendly in it, just a knife’s edge of certainty.

"I gave you power once," he murmured. His voice was quiet, almost conversational against the hum of the fluorescent lights. "You begged for it, remember? You swore yourself to it... to me."

The man’s breath hitched. "No..." he managed, voice cracking.

Victor crouched slightly, bringing himself to eye level. "And the thing about a gift," he said, voice dropping, smooth as glass over steel, "is that I can take it back."

His hand hovered inches from the man’s chest. A surge of crimson ether pulsed outward, invisible to most, but not to the alpha, it ripped through the connection like a live wire tearing out of his spine. The man convulsed against the restraints, a raw sound breaking out of him, echoing harshly against the soundproofed walls. The glowing glyphs flared brighter as his own power collapsed, flickering out like a dying signal.

When Victor pulled his hand back, the man slumped, panting hard, his skin damp with sweat. His eyes, wide, disbelieving, looked at Victor as if seeing him for the first time. The whispered rumors, the old stories, slammed into place in his mind.

"You..." the man gasped. "You’re not... just..."

Victor straightened, his expression unreadable. The faint shimmer of ether under his skin steadied, settling back into calm control. "I am," he said softly, "exactly what you feared."

He turned toward the door, his voice level and cold as steel. "Release him."

Ashwin’s brows rose, but he didn’t question. A quick command on his tablet disengaged the restraints. The cuffs clicked open. The alpha flinched as his hands came free, rubbing at his wrists as if expecting the pain to follow.

Victor paused in the doorway, glancing back once, crimson eyes catching the sterile light. "Go," he said. "Tell them what you saw. Tell Samael. Tell Matteo. Let them know whose house they trespassed in."

The alpha’s mouth opened, but no words came. He stayed frozen in the chair, trembling, sweat dripping from his chin onto the sterile floor.

"He’s useless now," Ashwin said quietly as he fell into step beside Victor in the corridor, tablet tucked under his arm. His voice carried the low certainty of a man who had seen this outcome before. "They’ll silence him before morning."

Victor’s pace never faltered. "Then don’t give them the chance to do it quietly." His tone was calm, almost conversational, but there was no mistaking the sharpened edge beneath it. He paused mid‑stride, crimson eyes narrowing. "Put him somewhere public. Make sure he talks. Let everyone hear who I am..."

A faint curl of a cold smile touched his lips. "...and watch the Numens scramble to smother the truth."

Ashwin inclined his head in silent acknowledgment, already issuing quiet orders over his comm to the operatives waiting at the far end of the corridor.

Behind them, the reinforced doors sealed with a deep, mechanical thud, sigils glowing faintly as they locked back into place. The hall was still thick with the residue of Victor’s power, the acrid scent of burned ozone clinging to the air.

Victor’s crimson ether bled into the walls in slow, restless coils, a subtle glow creeping along the etched lines of the corridor’s wards. Ashwin’s hands curled into fists at his sides but he said nothing, he’d served Victor long enough to know what came next.

Those responsible for the breach, for the single step taken onto Elias’s terrace, would face judgment before the night was out. Victor didn’t have to say anything; his power spoke for him, crawling through the manor like a living thing, seeking, seething.

Victor exhaled slowly, a low, measured breath, and began walking again, the hum of his ether following him like the echo of distant thunder.