CHAPTER 70: CHAPTER 70: AGAIN

Elias didn’t reply at first.

He looked down at the laptop screen again, where the cursor blinked back at him with mechanical indifference. A slide title hovered, unfinished. The words didn’t matter anymore.

"That’s a dangerous thing to say," he said finally, his voice quiet, almost flat.

Adam didn’t flinch. "It would be. If it weren’t already true."

Elias exhaled through his nose, not quite a laugh. "He told you to come?"

"No," Adam said. "I waited until he left."

That earned a glance. Elias met his gaze, faintly wary. "Why?"

"Because I’ve seen too many people given something extraordinary and walk away before they even understand what they were handed," Adam said. His tone remained calm, but there was a firmness behind it now, the kind that came from years of watching fires be set in rooms like this one. "And because I don’t want that to happen again."

Elias leaned back in the chair slowly, his shoulders rigid under the weight of something unspoken. "You think I’d walk away?"

"I think you’re already halfway there most days," Adam said without cruelty. "And in the rest of."

That struck a little too cleanly.

Elias didn’t deny it.

He turned back to the screen, hands resting on either side of the keyboard, fingers unmoving.

"I don’t know what to do with Victor’s attention," he said finally, voice barely above a breath. "If he would have been just another man, an ordinary alpha or recessive, I wouldn’t hesitate in giving him a chance, but... he is a god, Adam."

Adam didn’t respond right away. He let the silence stretch, the kind that didn’t press or pry but just made room for the truth to breathe.

Elias’s fingers curled slightly against the edge of the desk, not quite a fist. His voice stayed low, almost toneless. "You can’t tell someone like that no. Not without consequences. And you especially can’t say yes without losing something of yourself in the process."

"He doesn’t want your obedience," Adam said gently. "He’s not looking for worship."

Elias gave a brittle smile that didn’t touch his eyes. "Maybe not now. But gods don’t ask forever. They take. Slowly, subtly, until there’s nothing left of you but what they’ve decided to keep."

The admission hung between them like a blade left unsheathed.

Adam moved then, just one step closer.

"I’ve watched him burn cities and save children in the same breath," he said. "I’ve seen him tear holes through reality to rescue someone whose name he couldn’t remember. He is terrifying, yes. But not because of what he demands. Because of what he’s willing to give."

Elias’s breath hitched. He didn’t look up.

"He doesn’t want you to give yourself away, Elias," Adam continued, voice quiet but certain. "He wants you to stay whole. He needs an equal mate, not some obedient partner."

Elias let the words settle. The light from the laptop screen flickered across his face, pale and uneven, throwing soft shadows beneath his eyes. The cursor blinked in a quiet, indifferent rhythm.

"That’s..." He paused, the sentence fracturing before it could form. His voice was low, hollow at the edges. "That’s not the relief you think it is."

His fingers twitched slightly against the keys, then stilled. He didn’t look at Adam when he spoke next.

"I feel like a hunted deer."

The words dropped like stones, small, but heavy.

Adam didn’t speak right away. He didn’t offer comfort or contradiction, just allowed the silence to hold space for what Elias couldn’t yet name.

"You’re not," he said finally, quiet but firm. "You’re not prey. And Victor isn’t the predator you keep bracing for."

Elias gave a short, brittle sound, not quite a laugh. "No? Then why does it feel like every time he looks at me, he’s already halfway through rewriting my future?"

"Because he is powerful," Adam said. "But power isn’t the same as control. Not with him. He could’ve snapped his fingers and made you stay. Instead, he asks. Badly, sometimes, but he still asks."

Elias exhaled slowly, rubbing at the side of his neck, where the tension hadn’t loosened since last night.

"With emphasis on badly," he muttered, dry and tired, the edge of sarcasm dulled by the weight behind it.

Adam gave a quiet huff of laughter. "He’s spent the last few centuries terrifying armies and outstaring death. Charm isn’t exactly a daily exercise."

Elias leaned back in the chair, gaze drifting toward the ceiling as if expecting divine intervention to drop through the plaster. "Fantastic. I’m being courted by a cosmic war relic with the emotional fluency of a brick."

"That brick," Adam said mildly, "would rip the sky in half if you asked."

Elias snorted. "Great. A brick that rips the sky. Should I be flattered or start building a fallout shelter?"

Adam’s mouth quirked. "Maybe both."

But Elias didn’t smile. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, motionless, before lowering slowly to the desk. The sarcasm was there, yes, but thinner now, stretched over something sharp and quiet.

Just then, the phone beside the laptop lit up, vibrating once against the wood. Elias flinched, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

Ruo’s name.

The screen glowed with it, simple, clear, impossible.

He stared. Didn’t breathe.

"Don’t answer it. I’m calling Robert." Adam said with an uncharacteristic panic in his voice.

"I didn’t plan to," Elias replied dryly, his tone stretched thin with disbelief. "Odd coincidence, though. Just an hour after Victor walks out the door, she miraculously calls."

The phone buzzed again in his hand, insistent. Too insistent.

Elias didn’t take his eyes off it. "That’s not her style. If she were alive and safe, she’d text. Or show up. Not call. Not now."

Adam was already pulling out his own phone, tapping in a code with more force than necessary. "It’s not just odd. It’s a trap, Elias. This timing is surgical. They want you to panic."

"I’m not panicking," Elias said automatically, even as his thumb hovered near the accept button.

"You’re thinking about answering."

He let the screen go dark in his palm, but the pressure in his chest didn’t fade.

"Because it’s her name," Elias said, voice flat. "And I’m curious if it’s Matteo again, playing dress-up with my nightmares."

Adam swore under his breath, already crossing the room to check the lock on the door, as if paranoia had suddenly gained a shape and weight.

"That’s not funny."

"It wasn’t a joke." Elias set the phone down on the desk like it might detonate. "I wouldn’t put it past him to try something theatrical. The man probably dreams in stolen phone numbers."