CHAPTER 253: CHAPTER 253: NOT AGAIN

Lucas had meant to stay in bed.

Trevor had told him to rest, and for a while, he’d tried, but the distant thud of boots, the low hum of orders given and obeyed, had threaded through the quiet until it was impossible to ignore.

He padded out of the bedroom barefoot, the soft fabric of his pajama pants whispering against his skin. His ash-blond hair was a sleep-mussed tangle until he ran his fingers back through it, pushing it out of his face as he made his way down the hall.

By the time he reached the top of the grand staircase, the scene below had already unfolded into something that didn’t need explanation. Trevor stood at the center of the receiving hall, the morning light catching on the gold at his wrists, his voice carrying just enough to slice through the air. Windstone’s men moved like a tide around him, pulling the old Capital staff from their places, names being taken, orders barked in low, unshakable tones.

Lucas leaned lightly against the carved banister, watching. There was no flinch in him, no hesitation at the sight of people, some grey-haired from decades of service, being marched toward the doors.

He didn’t feel bad.

Not even a little.

People like this had let the box into the household. People like this had looked away, in this life and the last. In that other lifetime, their silence had been the mortar between the stones of his cage. Their inaction had fed his torment as much as the hands that carried it out.

Trevor’s voice cut through the memory, low but final. Another order given, another line of uniforms moving to obey. He didn’t look like doom incarnate, black trousers, open-collared white shirt, slippers soft against the marble, but the room bent to him all the same.

Lucas’s hand tightened on the banister, the smooth wood warm beneath his palm.

This time, he thought, letting his gaze linger on Trevor’s profile, there would be no one left in these walls who could hurt him.

Trevor didn’t look up right away, not until the last cluster of uniforms had been ushered out under Windstone’s direction. Only then did his gaze lift, almost idly, scanning the upper landing. It caught on him instantly.

Lucas stayed where he was, leaning against the banister, pajamas loose, hair still pushed back by his own hand. There was no embarrassment in being caught watching, only a quiet, measured curiosity in the way his green eyes met Trevor’s.

Trevor’s expression didn’t shift much, but something in his stance changed. The razor-edge of command eased, and the air between them seemed to narrow. He spoke to Windstone without looking away from Lucas.

"Continue the clear-out," he said. "I’ll return when I’m needed."

The walk to the stairs was unhurried, every step soft against the marble in those house slippers that had made the staff bristle, but to Lucas, it was the measured stride of a man who had just rewritten the hierarchy of the household.

By the time Trevor reached him, the sound of the main doors closing on the last of the Capital staff had faded into the distance. He stopped close, close enough that Lucas caught the faint, warm thread of his scent, grounding and steady beneath the cold morning air.

"You should be resting," Trevor said, his voice quieter now, though it still carried the weight of someone who had been giving orders all morning.

"I was," Lucas replied, the faintest edge of something unreadable in his tone. "Then I wanted to see."

His eyes swept over Trevor, taking in the open collar, the gold glint at his cuffs, and the fact that he was still in slippers despite dismantling an entire household. "You don’t waste time."

Trevor’s mouth curved slightly, but there was no humor in it. "Not when it’s about you."

Lucas tilted his head, green eyes steady on him. "Do you want me to fall in love with you again?"

Trevor’s chuckle was low, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and when he stepped forward, the shift in space felt deliberate, inevitable.

"I’d like to do it the right way this time," he murmured, his hands coming up to settle around Lucas with a surety that left no room for doubt. "And I won’t give you the chance to forget."

His scent wrapped around them, warmer now, threaded through with something darker, an undercurrent that spoke of possession.

"This won’t happen again," Trevor said, not softly, but with the quiet finality of a man who had already decided what the future would and would not allow.

Lucas didn’t answer right away, only let his forehead rest briefly against Trevor’s shoulder, his breathing slow, like he was giving himself permission to stand there, to lean in, to stay. There was no weight in him that Trevor couldn’t hold.

"Let’s get you fed," Trevor said finally, the words more command than suggestion, though his hand at the small of Lucas’s back was steady and gentle.

The receiving hall was empty now, the echo of earlier orders replaced by a quiet, purposeful rhythm. By the time they reached the breakfast room, the shift in the air was impossible to miss.

The Fitzgeralt main manor staff skillfully moved to cater to them, their presence a familiar cadence instead of an intrusion. They didn’t hover or watch. They anticipated sliding a chair out for Lucas the moment he approached, setting the coffee before Trevor without asking, and laying down a plate already arranged with the things Lucas preferred: eggs soft-set, toast still warm, and fruit cut into even pieces he didn’t have to think about.

They didn’t need to ask what he wanted; they already knew.

The scent of fresh bread and brewed tea curled through the room, grounding him in a way the Capital staff never had. These people had served him before, quietly, efficiently, without making him feel like a guest in his own home.

Trevor sat beside him, close enough that their sleeves brushed when they moved, the new order of the household already settling into place around them.