CHAPTER 121: WHAT WAS THAT MESSAGE?

The Drago estate was finally quiet. It was past two in the morning when the black SUV rolled through the gates. Viktor stepped out first, with his jacket off his body, shirt sleeves rolled high, dried blood still flaking from his forearms.

Luka followed, yawning, phone in hand. He was tired of being a handbag.

Viktor didn’t speak until they were inside.

"Gerald," he called, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the silence.

Gerald appeared almost instantly from the shadows of the hallway. Still, in his suit, he looked tired after supervising the cleaners to clean the whole house, but he still looked sharp.

"Sir."

"Come with me to the office. Now."

They walked away while Luka found his way to his room. The office door closed behind them with a soft click.

Gerald placed a tablet on the desk.

Photos. Lists. Numbers.

"Twenty-three men confirmed dead," he started without emotion. "Seven more in surgery. The East wing took the worst damage... windows, furniture, and two cars were torched in the garage. The armoury is intact. The security feeds are wiped for the first twenty minutes of the breach. We’re blind on exactly how they got in."

Viktor sat slowly, elbows on the desk, fingers steepled.

"Moreau," he said. "It’s definitely him and his miserable daughter."

"Confirmed," Gerald replied. "Some of the bodies had his family crest tattooed. The rest were hired guns. And... there’s evidence Caldwell money moved through three shell companies to pay them."

Viktor’s jaw flexed. "Of course there is. Nathan would literally do anything to get his hand on Elias."

Gerald waited for some minutes as he waited for Viktor to speak.

He exhaled through his nose.

"Send Clara Moreau a letter tomorrow morning. A formal one. The engagement is permanently terminated. No negotiations."

Gerald nodded once. "Already drafted."

"Good." Viktor leaned back. "And send Philippe Moreau a separate note. Thank him for the lovely gift he delivered today. Tell him I lost good men because of his tantrum. I’ll be collecting on that debt personally. Soon."

Gerald’s pen paused over the tablet. "How soon, sir?"

"When the war is over," Viktor said quietly. "Right now every rival family is circling. We don’t have time for a spoiled Frenchman. He waits."

Gerald finished typing. "Anything else?"

Viktor rubbed his eyes. "Where’s Elias?"

"In Miss Lila’s room with the children. We finished scrubbing the blood from his room and replaced the carpet, but when I went to tell him it was ready, they were all asleep. They are all asleep on a single bed. I didn’t have the heart to wake them."

Viktor almost smiled. Almost.

"Thank you, Gerald. You may rest."

Gerald bowed and left.

The door shut. Viktor sat alone in the dim office for a long minute. He thought about the twins... how many times they’d hidden under beds while guns went off downstairs.

He thought about the day he had promised himself one of his sons would never have to inherit this life. He didn’t want them to go through the same shit he went through.

He had even discussed it with Luka last year, passing the title to Luka’s future child instead. Luka had laughed, changed the subject, and still refused to get married till now.

Viktor wasn’t stupid. He knew that Luka wanted the crown himself.

One day they would have to talk about it properly. With their father.

But not tonight.

Tonight he just wanted to see Elias and the twins.

He stood up and went straight to Lila’s room.

.

Lila’s room was at the end of the family wing. It was also Elias’s former room. The door was open, a sliver of night-light spilling into the hallway.

Viktor pushed it gently.

The bed was small as it was meant for one teenager, definitely not four people.

Elias lay in the middle, on his back.

Dario was curled against his left side, face tucked into Elias’s neck. Dante was half on Elias’s chest, one leg thrown over his brother.

Lila was on the right, arm flung across Elias’s waist, mouth open, snoring softly.

They all looked peaceful.

Viktor stepped inside quietly, closed the door behind him. He crouched by the bed first, brushing Dario’s hair back, checking that both boys were really breathing slowly and steadily.

They were fine.

He moved to Lila... studied her face. The same fierce girl who had bossed him around through Gerald’s phone earlier.

Then he looked at Elias and froze.

Elias’s eyes were open.

He was wide awake, watching him.

Viktor actually jumped a little, hand flying to his chest.

"Jesus... why are your eyes open?"

Elias’s voice was barely a whisper. "Because they’ve been open for thirty-five minutes."

Viktor’s face went red. "You... you saw everything?"

"I don’t understand what you’re talking about," Elias pouted his lips as he turned away.

"You know... You know what I’m talking about."

Elias’s mouth twitched. "Well, I saw you check the boys like they’re made of glass. I saw you fix Lila’s blanket. I saw you stand there looking like a worried dad for five straight minutes."

"Shut up," Viktor muttered, cheeks burning hotter. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

"Because if I move, one of them would wake up," Elias whispered. "And then I have to make dinner. And I’m too tired."

Viktor exhaled a quiet laugh. "I’ll make dinner."

Elias gave him a long, suspicious look.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. "What’s that face for?"

"Are we talking actual food," Elias asked, "or burnt offerings?"

Viktor’s mouth dropped open in mock offence.

He reached over carefully, slid his arms under Dante, and lifted the sleeping boy like he weighed nothing.

Dante made a small sound but didn’t wake.

Elias watched, then slowly wriggled free, adjusting Lila so she rolled into the warm spot he left.

Viktor was already halfway to the door.

Elias scooped Dario up next... the kid clung to his neck automatically... and followed.

They carried the twins to their own room, tucked them in side by side, and pulled the blankets up. Dante mumbled something about ice cream and rolled over.

Viktor smoothed his hair. "They’ll be up in five hours demanding pancakes. It’s past midnight though, so we’ll be making breakfast instead."

Elias smiled tiredly. "Then you’d better start cooking your burnt offerings now."

Viktor turned, eyes narrow. "Follow me. I’ll show you who can’t cook."

The kitchen was huge and dark.

The second they stepped in, the two night maids saw Viktor, squeaked, and vanished. Viktor didn’t even glance at them.

He pointed at the high stool by the island. "Sit."

Elias obeyed, folding his arms, still in the oversized T-shirt and sweatpants he’d changed into after changing out of his blood-soaked outfit.

Viktor washed his hands, rolled his sleeves higher, then grabbed a black apron from the drawer.

He tied it with quick, angry movements... like the apron had personally offended him.

Then he reached for a chef’s cap, struggled with it for three seconds.

Elias stood up, took the cap from him, and placed it gently on Viktor’s head, fingers brushing his hair.

Viktor went very still.

Elias sat back down, smirking.

"What do you want to eat?" Viktor asked, voice a little rough.

"Surprise me."

Viktor snapped his fingers. "Oh, I’m about to blow your mind."

He moved swiftly. Onions hit the pan, sizzling.

Garlic next. Steak cut from the fridge, seasoned fast and hard.

Elias rested his chin on his hand and watched. He didn’t say anything about Nathan.

He wanted to. The question sat heavy on his tongue... Is he okay? Will he live?... but every time he opened his mouth, he saw Viktor’s face in the ambulance, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.

Tonight wasn’t the night.

The kitchen filled with smells that made Elias’s stomach growl loud enough for Viktor to hear.

Viktor slid a plate across the island.

Perfectly seared steak, garlic butter melting on top, roasted potatoes on the side, a small pile of greens that actually looked edible.

Elias stared.

"Go on... Have a taste and tell me what you think."

Viktor folded his arms, waiting.

Elias cut a piece, chewed slowly.

While he chewed, he looked up.

"It’s... edible."

Viktor’s eyes narrowed. "Don’t lie to me. Tell me the truth."

"I said it’s edible," Elias repeated, fighting a smile.

Viktor took the apron off in one smooth motion, tossed it on the counter, and started walking around the island.

Elias’s eyes widened. He jumped off the stool and backed away.

"Viktor..."

"What? Are you running away? You said edible twice," Viktor said, voice low and teasing. "That’s a crime."

Elias bolted around the other side of the island.

Viktor followed.

They circled like that... Elias laughing quietly, Viktor pretending to be deadly serious... for a full minute.

Elias grabbed a dish towel, snapped it at Viktor’s leg.

Viktor lunged.

Elias dodged, slipped on the smooth floor, and Viktor caught him around the waist before he hit the ground.

They froze, breathing hard, faces inches apart. Viktor’s hands were warm on Elias’s sides. Elias’s heart was racing for an entirely new reason.

Viktor opened his mouth... But his phone buzzed. He wanted to ignore it but it buzzed once. Twice. Five times in a row.

Viktor’s face changed.

The playfulness drained out like someone pulled a plug. He let go of Elias gently, pulled the phone from his pocket, and looked at the screen.

Elias watched the shift as he saw the way Viktor’s shoulders went stiff, the way his eyes went cold and flat.

Viktor’s thumb hovered over the screen.

Then he locked it, shoved it back in his pocket, and yanked the chef’s cap off his head like it suddenly annoyed him.

"I’ll be right back," he said, voice flat.

He walked out of the kitchen without looking back.

Elias stood alone among the smell of steak and garlic, the plate still warm on the counter.

He stared at the empty doorway.

The phone had buzzed too many times to be good news. And whatever was on that screen had just turned the man who’d been chasing him with a dish towel thirty seconds ago into someone Elias barely recognised.

Elias wrapped his arms around himself.

"What exactly was that message?"