The moment Lucien ended the call last night, Arin felt something ancient stirring inside him. Not just anger. Not even rage. This was something deeper. Something colder. Vengeful.
Silas Greer.
The name alone dripped venom. A man who murdered parents, enslaved children, and had the audacity to call his victim with a smirk in his voice. Arin knew monsters. He'd grown up around them. But even monsters feared Greer.
Arin couldn't sleep. Not truly. Lucien was tucked against his chest, breathing softly, face relaxed in a way that tore Arin apart. He looked so young when he slept. So peaceful. Like the world had never touched him.
But it had.
And now that Arin knew how deep those scars ran, he couldn't let it go.
He held Lucien closer, kissed the top of his head, and whispered promises he hadn't dared speak aloud until now.
"You're mine. I'll never let him touch you again. Even if it means burning the whole city to the ground."
His phone sat quietly on the table. One call would be enough. One conversation to return to the world he had spent years escaping.
He picked it up.
His father answered on the second ring.
"Well, well. Finally remembered you have a family?"
Arin didn't react. "I want in. The meetings, the estate, the business. All of it."
A pause.
Then: "What made you rethink, son?"
Arin looked down at Lucien, who had unconsciously wrapped both arms around Arin's waist in his sleep.
"Let's just say... I remembered what matters. And what I need to protect."
His father laughed. A low, pleased sound. "That's my boy. Welcome back. You know what they say, Arin—there's no room for love in our field."
Arin smiled bitterly. "Then I'll make space."
---
The next morning was slow and sweet. Lucien woke to find Arin already dressed, hair tied back, wearing a dark button-down that made him look sharper, older. There was steel in his movements now.
"Where are you going?" Lucien asked, still groggy.
"Meeting. Might be late today."
Lucien frowned. "You hate meetings."
Arin leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Not anymore."
Lucien watched him leave, something uneasy stirring in his chest.
Later that Day
The private room was lavish, filled with the subtle scent of jasmine tea. Arin sat across from two men in silk suits, both older, both snakes in tailored clothing. His father had set up the deal—a trade route negotiation with a smaller family. Something easy, supposedly. Something safe.
He didn't drink the tea immediately. Years of training made him cautious.
But the moment one of the men lifted his cup and sipped, smiling politely, Arin followed.
The taste was bitter. Off.
Too late.
He felt it first in his throat—a dry clenching sensation. Then a wave of nausea. His vision blurred at the edges, and the world tilted.
The man across from him smiled wider.
"Apologies, Mr. Arin. But you should have stayed out."
Arin gritted his teeth and stood, stumbling toward the exit. His legs buckled halfway.
He collapsed, fingers twitching. He reached for his phone.
Only one name had a heart beside it.
Lucien (with a heat)
---
The phone rang while Lucien was folding Arin's clothes.
He smiled when he saw the name. But when he answered, it wasn't Arin's voice on the other end.
"Are you Lucien?" a deep voice asked.
Lucien's chest tightened. "Yes... who is this?"
"We found this man collapsed during a business meeting. He was poisoned. You were the only number with a heart. Figured you're important."
The phone nearly dropped from Lucien's hand.
His heart thundered in his chest. The room spun.
"Where is he?!" Lucien yelled.
They gave him the address.
He didn't even put on shoes. He ran barefoot through the street, lungs burning.
When he reached the location, Arin was on the ground, breathing shallowly. His skin was pale, his lips tinged with blue.
Lucien dropped to his knees, pulling Arin into his arms.
"Wake up. Wake up, you bastard. You said you wouldn't leave me..."
Tears streamed down his face.
Arin stirred, weakly.
"Lu... cien..."
"Shh. I'm here. I got you. Please don't die. Please."
Lucien turned to the man beside them.
"Call an ambulance!"
The man shook his head. "He said not to. Said if something happened, to call his father."
Lucien hesitated.
Then he took Arin's phone.
He called the number labeled "Father."
---
Arin's father picks up. His voice cold, sharp. "Who the fuck are you? and Where is my son?"