The smell of antiseptic still clung to Elias's clothes as the morning sun filtered through the window blinds, casting pale stripes of light across his face. The hospital had returned to its usual quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of heart monitors and the occasional squeak of nurses' shoes down the hall. But inside his chest, Elias felt anything but calm.
He had barely slept. Between the confrontation with Damien, the assault in the hospital room, and Cassian's accident, his body was drained, but his mind was on fire. The truth Damien had dropped—the fact that Noah was actually his father—was still too big to hold. Too heavy to process. Every memory he thought he understood now rang false.
His world had been turned inside out, again.
He sat curled on the hospital bed, dressed in a clean set of clothes Cassian had brought for him earlier. The nurses had already mentioned discharging him within the hour.
But he couldn't leave. Not without seeing Cassian.
The door creaked open.
A nurse leaned in with a gentle smile. "He's awake."
Elias's heart jumped.
---
Cassian looked fragile in the hospital bed. The bandages around his head were stark against his skin. His right arm was wrapped tightly, IV lines trailing from it. But his eyes were open, if a little unfocused.
Elias nearly tripped rushing in.
"Cass?"
Cassian blinked slowly, lips dry and pale. "Elias… you okay?"
A laugh burst from Elias—half sob, half relief. "I should be asking you that."
Cassian tried to smile. "I've had worse. Not much worse, though."
Elias pulled a chair to the bedside, grasping his hand carefully. "They said the car came out of nowhere. Hit you full-on."
Cassian nodded, wincing. "Yeah. I think someone wanted to shut me up."
"Damien?"
"I don't know."
A thick silence passed between them.
Cassian finally spoke again. "I heard what happened. Damien told the doctors what he could. You doing okay?"
Elias shook his head. "No. Not really." He looked away. "Everything hurts in here." He pointed to his chest. "I don't even know who I am anymore."
Cassian gave his hand a squeeze. "You're still you, Elias. You're still brave. Still honest. Still you."
Elias looked at him then, really looked. Cassian, despite the bruises, had never looked more alive. There was no mask, no pretenses—just the kind of warmth Elias had almost forgotten people could give.
Without thinking, without warning—
Elias leaned forward and pressed his lips to Cassian's.
It was soft. Trembling. Full of unshed grief and hope.
Cassian froze for a heartbeat, then kissed him back—slow, careful, as if afraid Elias might vanish.
When they broke apart, Elias's cheeks were red. "Sorry, I—"
"Don't be." Cassian smiled faintly. "I've been wanting to do that for weeks."
---
Later that evening, Elias stood in the hospital room waiting for Damien to come pick him up, he was starting to hate staying here. Discharged and free to go. Cassian would be kept under observation for another day or two, but he was stable.
Stable enough for Elias to finally breathe again.
He stood by the window to put the curtains down,out in the parking lot was a couple of cars, one of them includes Cassian's car. The sky was painted with streaks of deep orange and fading indigo.
Then his phone vibrated.
Unknown Number: You really think he's safe now? Cute.
Elias's stomach dropped. His pulse skyrocketed.
Before he could respond, a loud screech of tires tore through the air—
BOOM.
A nearby car exploded into flames.
People screamed. Alarms blared.
Elias looked out toward the noise, heart leaping into his throat—
It was Cassian's car.
The chaos outside raged with flashing sirens and the thunder of shouts, but miles away, Damien Cross stood alone in his private suite — dark, untouched, sterile — a sanctuary built of glass and restraint.
Until now.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One attachment.
He tapped it open.
A photo. Grainy but unmistakable.
Elias.
Cassian.
Kissing.
His breath caught mid-throat. The silence screamed. Then—
CRASH!
A lamp shattered against the wall.
Another. Then the glass coffee table.
Bookshelves overturned, drawers yanked out and flung across the room. Shards of ceramic and glass glittered across the floor like blood-stained stars. The cold mask Damien wore cracked, then caved.
He kicked the chair so hard it splintered.
His chest heaved.
Rage. Betrayal. Jealousy so sharp it tasted like iron on his tongue.
His phone rang again — the same number.
He answered, voice ragged. "What do you want?"
A slow chuckle echoed on the other end.
"You didn't think he'd stay loyal, did you? You're losing your grip, Damien. Walk away while you can. Let him go. Or you'll die trying."
Silence.
Then, low and trembling, Damien spoke — not with fear, but fire.
"You think I don't see through this? You think I don't know this is to make me jealous? To push me out of his life?" He dragged a hand through his hair, seething.
"I don't care who you send. I don't care how many lies you whisper. I will protect Elias. Even if it kills me."
He ended the call.
The phone slipped from his hand, landing with a dull thud on the wreckage-strewn floor.
Outside, lightning split the sky.
Inside, Damien stood in the ruin of his composure, breathing like a man at war with himself — and losing.
In the shadows just beyond the window, a figure watched Damien — a camera still recording.
The trap was working.
And Elias Vale had no idea he what's coming for him.