Chapter Five: The Apartment
The world returned in fragments.
First, the pounding in his skull. Then, the cold sting of air against damp skin. Then—fabric. Soft, unfamiliar sheets clung to his arms, a dark gray duvet tangled around his legs. Elias groaned, reaching up to touch the side of his head.
Pain flared beneath his fingers.
He sat up too quickly. The room spun. Pale morning light crept through blackout curtains, bleeding over polished wood floors and minimalist furniture. A clock ticked somewhere. His jacket hung neatly on the back of a sleek black chair.
This wasn't his apartment.
His pulse surged. "What the—?"
A door creaked open.
Damien stood in the doorway, wearing a black turtleneck and slacks, a steaming mug in one hand. His expression was unreadable, eyes distant, as if none of this were unusual.
"You're awake," he said.
Elias gaped. "Where am I?"
"My apartment." Damien set the mug on the bedside table. "You passed out. In the archives."
"I was attacked," Elias snapped, forcing himself to swing his legs off the bed. "Someone grabbed me—why the hell am I here and not at the station or a hospital?"
Damien's eyes narrowed. "Because I brought you here."
"You what?"
"I didn't trust the station to handle it properly," Damien said coolly. "And you were unconscious. I didn't exactly have time for debate."
Elias staggered to his feet, still woozy. "You kidnapped me."
Damien's jaw twitched. "Don't be dramatic."
Elias shoved past him. The apartment was massive—cold, immaculate, all steel and slate and glass. It didn't feel lived in. No photos. No mess. Just carefully curated emptiness.
"I want to leave," Elias muttered.
"You're not leaving."
He froze mid-step. "Excuse me?"
"I said you're not leaving." Damien's tone dropped into something quieter. More final. "Not until I know you're safe."
Elias whirled on him. "You don't own me."
"I don't need to own you to protect you."
Elias glared. "Protect me from what? You keep dropping vague warnings, locking doors, and now you've abducted me to your creepy bachelor lair like some possessive psycho—"
Damien crossed the room in two steps and grabbed Elias's wrist. Not hard, but firm enough to halt him mid-rant.
"I'm keeping you alive," Damien said, voice low, eyes burning. "Because someone out there doesn't want you to be. And if I hadn't shown up last night, you'd be a body in that archive room."
Elias tried to yank his arm back, but Damien didn't budge. "So now what?" he spat. "You keep me like a pet?"
Damien's lips curled into something not quite a smile. "You want the truth?"
"No," Elias said bitterly. "I want my freedom."
For a beat, silence.
Then, Damien released him. Walked to the kitchen. Poured himself another cup of coffee.
"You're moving in," he said without looking back.
Elias blinked. "What?"
"You heard me." He took a slow sip. "It's not safe at your place anymore. Whoever came after you last night—they knew where to find you. That means you're being watched. Followed."
"And your solution is shacking up with the guy I barely know?" Elias snapped. "You're insane."
Damien's gaze slid back to him. Calm. Controlled.
"You'll stay here," he said, as if it were fact. "I'll control your schedule, your transport, your protection. I'm the only one you can trust."
"You're unbelievable."
"And you're reckless. You walk into danger without thinking twice. You're obsessed with your brother's death, and it's going to get you killed unless someone reins you in."
"I don't need reining in," Elias snapped.
"You do," Damien growled. He stalked forward again, this time more deliberate—less restraint. "You don't see it yet, but they're circling. And you're out there bleeding in the water."
Elias backed up until his spine hit the wall. Damien's body crowded his, the air thick with heat and tension.
"I won't let you die like he did," Damien whispered. "I won't."
Elias flinched. "Why do you care?"
For the first time, Damien's composure faltered.
"Because I failed him," he said softly. "And I won't fail you."
Their eyes locked.
It was too close. Too much. Elias couldn't breathe. His emotions spun out, pulled between fury and fear and something far more dangerous: want.
Damien reached up and cupped Elias's jaw.
"I should've protected him better," he whispered.
Elias trembled.
"You're not him," he whispered back.
Damien didn't move. "I know."
Then—he kissed him.
Not soft. Not gentle.
Possessive. Punishing. A collision of guilt and want and control.
Elias made a noise in the back of his throat but didn't pull away. His fingers fisted in Damien's shirt. The kiss deepened. Damien's hand slid from jaw to throat, applying light pressure—enough to make Elias gasp.
Then Damien broke the kiss, breath ragged.
"You're staying," he said again, more softly this time.
Elias didn't answer.
He couldn't.
—
Later that afternoon, Elias sat on the edge of a leather couch, hands clasped, staring at the same photo he'd stolen from the archives—now in his lap. He hadn't meant to keep it. He hadn't meant for any of this.
Damien re-entered the room, tapping something on his phone. "I've arranged for your schedule to be adjusted. You'll work with me exclusively now."
"You can't just—"
"I can. I did."
Elias stood. "And if I say no?"
"You won't," Damien said calmly. "You're too curious. And too smart."
Elias scowled, but part of him knew Damien was right.
He needed answers. Even if they came from a man he didn't trust. Especially from him.
As Damien turned back to the hallway, his phone buzzed again.
He paused. Checked the screen.
A flicker of tension crossed his face. He pocketed the phone without a word.
"What is it?" Elias asked.
"Nothing," Damien lied.
But Elias caught the shift in his tone—tight, clipped.
He waited for Damien to vanish down the hall, then quietly picked up the man's coat from the armchair.
The phone was still inside.
Elias hesitated—then slipped it out.
One message glared on the screen from an unknown number:
"You're not the only one who failed him. Time to finish what we started."
Attached was a photo.
A boy. Tied to a chair. Head down. Blood on his cheek.
Elias's stomach dropped.
He'd seen that face before.
Julian.
The phone slipped from his fingers.