!!!Content Warning!!!
This chapter contains scenes of blood and violence, including descriptions of physical altercations, severe injuries, and death. Reader discretion is advised.
The air in the apartment, moments before so comfortable and warm, had turned into a vacuum of cold, dense dread. Elias's body was a hard shield between Milo and the living room, every muscle a steel cable, his gaze fixed on the unseen threat. The only sound was the frantic pounding of Milo's heart, a frantic drum against his ribs.
"He is here," Elias had whispered, the words hanging in the air like a final, chilling verdict.
Milo couldn't see anything. The street outside was quiet. But Elias's body was a testament to the unseen danger. His wolf-like ears were flattened, not with embarrassment now, but with an animalistic focus, sifting for sounds Milo couldn't even register. His scar, the jagged line across his cheek, seemed to stand out in sharp relief against his pale skin.
And then, a sound.
It was a soft snick, the subtle whisper of a lock giving way, followed by the faint click of the front door.
Milo gasped, his eyes wide with a mix of terror and disbelief. "He's in the hallway," he mouthed, his voice a panicked croak.
Elias shook his head, his eyes never leaving the living room entrance. "No. That is not… him."
Just as the words left his mouth, a new sound came, one that made Milo's blood run cold. It was the distinct thud of a heavy body against the back door leading to the building's alleyway. The cheap deadbolt groaned under the pressure.
Elias's head whipped around, his attention now split between two entrances. He was a beacon of furious, desperate energy. "Get behind me," he ordered, his voice no longer a whisper, but a low, dangerous growl.
Milo stumbled back, his legs feeling like lead. He watched as Elias moved into the center of the hallway, his body perfectly balanced, ready to spring. He was a beautiful, terrifying predator, all grace and coiled power.
The second sound came. Louder this time. The SMACK of wood splintering.
The front door burst open.
A tall, wiry man stood in the doorway, his clothes a sleek, dark black that seemed to absorb the light. He had pale, thin features, and his eyes—a striking, cold ice-blue—were like a shard of frozen sky. But it was his smile that was the most unsettling thing about him. It was a wide, unnerving smirk that spoke of a sick kind of enjoyment. He looked directly at Elias.
"Elias," the man said, his voice a smooth, silken purr that made Milo's stomach twist. "Elias, my friend. I told you I would find you. This little detour to Westkilo, Calin City, was a quaint attempt, but ultimately, fruitless." He took a slow, deliberate step into the apartment.
Elias's gaze, which had been fixed on the front door, suddenly snapped behind him. Another sound came from the back of the apartment: the sound of a window shattering.
Milo's heart leaped into his throat. He saw Elias's shoulders slump for a fraction of a second, an expression of grim defeat. He was being flanked. The two men were working together.
"You have nowhere to go, Elias," the man in the front door purred, that terrible smile still on his face.
Elias, however, ignored the man. His gaze, full of a fierce, desperate light, was fixed on Milo. With a sudden, explosive motion, Elias turned, grabbing Milo by the shoulders.
"There is an old way," Elias breathed, his voice raw with urgency. "Do not be afraid. Hold on to me."
Milo had no time to question him. The man from the front door was moving now, a blur of motion, a thin knife appearing in his hand. Elias didn't even look at him. He simply grabbed Milo by the shirt, pulling him in close, so close that their faces were inches apart.
"Hold on!" Elias commanded, his voice a low thunder.
Milo instinctively wrapped his arms around Elias's neck, burying his face in Elias's shoulder. He felt a familiar heat radiate from Elias's body, a fierce, comforting warmth. Elias's own arms wrapped tightly around Milo's back, a vice-like grip that held Milo close.
A scream tore from the back of Milo's throat, but it was swallowed by the sudden, disorienting sensation of the air around them twisting, of the very light in the apartment bending and warping. The world spun. The room and the menacing intruders dissolved into a maelstrom of color and sound, and Milo clung to Elias, to the only solid, comforting thing in the universe. He was terrified, but he felt a sense of utter and complete safety in the half-dragon's arms.