Chapter 173: Chapter 173: News
The glass doors whispered shut behind them, muting the low hum of the floor outside. Victor’s office was bright and hushed, screens dimmed, city light spilling across the table like pale gold. Ashwin took his usual position by the door, Samael dropped into a chair with his tablet, and Ruo perched on the edge of the conference table, her expression suddenly all business.
Elias stayed standing, diet coke still cold in his hand, blinking at the abrupt change of atmosphere. "All right," he said slowly. "Someone tell me why we just marched out of the break room like a SWAT team."
Robert set a heavy folder down on the table. His expression was grim enough to make even Connor stop smirking. "Because of this," he said, sliding a tablet across to Victor and then to Elias.
The headline glared up at him in lurid red type.
NUMEN’S MYSTERIOUS MATE TIED TO UNSOLVED DEATH OF MATTEO WELLER?
A grainy photo of Elias outside the manor sat next to an old university image of Matteo.
For a second Elias just stared, the words not quite sinking in. "What..." His voice came out flat. "What the hell is this?"
"A smear," Robert said without preamble. "It hit three gossip feeds in the last hour. All the same wording, all from the same parent company. Marco Salvador’s byline."
"Marco," Victor repeated quietly, crimson eyes narrowing. "The editor you had on retainer for softer pieces about Clarke."
Robert inclined his head. "Our people are already digging. The money trail leads back to a holding company with Clarke signatures on it. We don’t have the final wire transfers yet, but..." He spread his hands. "Most likely Anna Clarke. The timing fits."
Elias let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Of course it’s Anna. Pregnancy tantrum at lunch wasn’t enough?"
Victor reached across the table and plucked the tablet from his hands, setting it aside. His palm settled on the back of Elias’s neck, warm and steady. "Breathe," he murmured, voice low enough for only him to hear. "It’s a headline. That’s all."
"It says murderer," Elias said, still staring at the screen as if it might change. "It drags Matteo out of the grave and..."
"It won’t stick," Victor interrupted softly. "My people are already moving. We’ll pull the thread, trace it back, and by morning it’ll be gone."
Ruo’s eyes flicked between them. "Marco Salvador isn’t stupid," she said. "If he ran this, he thinks he’s safe."
"He’s not," Victor said, that dazzling smile gone now, replaced by something quieter and infinitely sharper. "And neither is Anna Clarke."
Elias drew in a breath, the faint smell of smoke rising from Victor’s skin like a grounding wire. "So what do I do?"
Victor’s thumb didn’t just circle idly anymore; it slid higher, slow and deliberate, until it found the faint raised skin at the nape of Elias’s neck where the mark lay hidden under his collar. His touch there was different, a heat and a faint thrum of ether humming through his fingertip as if even that small contact was an answer to the headlines on Robert’s tablet.
"You," Victor said again, calm as a closed fist. "Do nothing. Eat, sleep, work. Let me handle the rats."
The press of his thumb on the mark sent a tiny jolt down Elias’s spine; part reassurance, part warning, part reminder of exactly who was speaking. He glanced around the room, Robert stone-faced, Ruo’s mouth tight, Ashwin watching as if he were already calculating exits, and felt the old, familiar coil of anger tighten under his ribs. But he exhaled anyway and let himself lean a fraction into Victor’s palm.
"Fine," he muttered. "But I don’t think this is all." His eyes flicked to the tablet on the table. "I’ve been with Matteo on dates; don’t judge me, Ruo, " he caught her raised brow before she could open her mouth, "and they for sure have some pictures or proof."
Robert’s fingers tapped once against his own tablet before he spoke. "They might have pictures," he said evenly. "But pictures aren’t proof of anything more than proximity. We already have your movements logged for the date of his death. Our legal team will bury any narrative they try to spin."
Victor’s crimson gaze flicked from Robert back to Elias, softer for a heartbeat, then sharpened again. "They can throw shadows," he murmured, thumb pressing lightly into the mark as if to seal the words, "but I control the light." A faint ripple of power moved under his skin; the scent of smoke deepened in the air, subtle but unmistakable. "They won’t touch you."
Elias snorted, half-laughing despite the coil in his gut. "You sound like a press release."
Victor’s mouth curved, that slow, dangerous smile returning. "Then let me release it."
Ashwin made a low sound that might have been a groan. "God help the poor journalist," he muttered under his breath.
Victor’s crimson eyes glinted, thumb still tracing the mark with unhurried precision. "His god won’t," he said mildly, a thread of something inhuman beneath the words. "But I will."
The air in the office shifted at that, a faint pulse rolling off Victor’s skin like heat from a forge. Even Ruo’s teasing expression faltered; Robert’s gaze flicked up from his tablet and then away again. Only Elias stayed where he was, shoulders loose, diet coke sweating against his palm, pretending he didn’t feel the quiet surge of power humming through the room.
"You’re enjoying yourself," he said finally, voice dry. "Don’t deny it."
Victor’s thumb pressed once more into the mark, softer now, almost a stroke. "I enjoy you safe," he murmured. "The rest is just maintenance."
Elias let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. "Maintenance," he echoed, raising a brow. "That’s what we’re calling vengeance now?"
Victor’s mouth curved again, that dazzling merger-closing smile with the flash of a predator under it. "Call it whatever you like," he said, finally drawing his hand back from Elias’s nape. "By the time we’re finished, the only story left about you will be the one I write."