Chapter 24

ELIAS

I leaned against the tall window in my study, a half-finished bourbon swirling in my glass, the harsh burn of the drink was not nearly strong enough to quiet the regret churning in my belly. The room was dark, except for the faint glow of the city diffusing through the glass. Somewhere below, Louis was in one of the guest rooms—my prisoner, technically. My responsibility now. My choice.

God, what had I done?

The sight of him there—lips parted in shock, eyes wide with betrayal and fright—burned behind my eyelids like a hot brand. He had looked at me like I was a monster. Because I was. I still am.

I ran a hand through my hair and settled behind my desk, jaw clenched tight. Cathan was too damn close to killing him. One word and it would have been done. And the terrifying thing was—I almost did do it. Because it would have been easier. Cleaner. Safer.

He wouldn’t have to be dragged into my word.

But I didn't.

Why?

"Why?" I said to myself out loud, slamming the glass down on the table, cracking its rim. "Why him?"

Because he's different. Because there is something about him that I can’t let go.

The door burst open with a click and heavy footsteps followed. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"You've lost your fucking mind."

Cathan. Of course.

He charged into the room like a hurricane, his face pale with outrage and fury. "Do you even have any idea what you've done, Elias?"

I didn't respond. I just sipped out of the burning bourbon and gazed at the wall behind him.

"You let him stay after what happened? Does that make sense to you?"

"Watch your tone," I said quietly.

He slammed his fist down on the edge of my desk. "I don't care about tone right now. I care that you've done the most stupid thing I've ever seen you do. Do you even know if you can trust him? If he's going to run the moment you blink?"

"I'm not leaving it up to him," I told him coldly, my voice level and without emotion. "He stays... or he dies."

Cathan winced. "That is not a choice, Elias. That is coercion. That is madness."

"He saw everything," I spit at him. "What the fuck was I supposed to do? Let you kill him? Bury him like the rest?"

Silence.

Then, in a whisper—"Maybe you should've. It would've been kinder than this. You've brought him to hell, and for what? Because you care about something? He's not yours to hold, Eli."

I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor behind me. "That is enough."

“No, it isn't," Cathan said. "You don't get to play god with people's lives just because you're hurting. This kid… he was already broken before you got to him. And now? You going to shatter him even more."

I glared at him for what felt like an eternity, anger simmering just beneath the surface. At last, I pointed toward the door.

"Leave."

Cathan's jaw set. "Elias—"

"I said leave, Cathan."

He stopped, then shook his head. "You're going to regret this."

He walked out without another word, the door slamming shut behind him.

And still, the silence screamed.

I poured another drink. It did nothing. Not to the ache, not to the noise in my head. So I did the one thing I shouldn't have.

I tapped the key on my computer keyboard and brought up the camera view from the guest room. There he was—curled up on the edge of the huge bed, arms wrapped around his legs, his eyes red and distant. He hadn't even removed his office wear.

He looked lost.

I shouldn't be watching him. I knew that. It was wrong. Shameful. But I couldn't look away. Not from the shaking of his hands. Not from the way he flinched at the slightest sound.

I'd done this to him.

And yet I couldn't stay away.

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The next day, I avoided him like the plague. Meetings blurred into meetings. I snarled orders at men I didn't even care about and dispensed threats like candy. Anything to keep my mind off the boy in my house.

But I could feel him in every room. Like a ghost haunting me in my own home. I hadn't even told the staff what to do with him. Part of me wanted him to come to me. Part of me wanted him not to.

By nightfall, I was falling apart.

Wanting to take a walk, I stepped out of my study but I found him down the hall just outside the study. We locked eyes. The space between us thick with tension.

"You've been avoiding me," he said.

"I've been busy."

"I didn't ask if you were busy. I said that you were avoiding me."

He was more resilient than I had thought. Or maybe he was just tired of being frightened.

"I did what I had to do," I said. "You no longer fit into your previous life. You're safer here."

His eyes clouded. "I'm not safe. I'm trapped."

I stepped closer, feeling the shift in the air.

"Would you rather be dead?"

He didn’t answer.

I moved even closer, until we were mere inches apart. I could see the flicker in his gaze, that same pull I’d felt since the hospital.

"You hate me," I whispered. "But you also feel this… don't you?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, then whispered, "I don't know what I feel."

I inched closer. He didn't move.

Our foreheads touched. His breathing hitched when mine fanned across his lips. His hand twitched, his fingers brushing my shirt.

I could taste him in the air. In my mind. And it was then I decided I was tired of holding back. With that thought in mind, I pulled him close and took his lips.

Heaven. 

That’s the only way I can describe it. I couldn’t help but devour him like my life depended on it, my tongue sweeping past his lips into the warm caver

n of his mouth like it belonged there. And like a good boy, he kissed me with the same intensity and ferocity.