Elias closed the wardrobe slowly, the soft click of the door sounding louder than it should have in the hush.
He let his palm rest on the smooth wood for a heartbeat longer, collecting himself, before turning back toward the bedroom.
And stopped.
Victor was there.
He stood in the doorway, shoulder resting lightly against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, the faintest curve at his mouth. The dim light behind him threw his features into sharper relief, with dark hair brushing his face, the glow of his eyes softened, and that look, that quiet amusement that didn't need words to make itself known.
Elias froze mid‑step, something warm and sharp blooming low in his chest. He swallowed, but his voice came out steady despite the sudden rush in his pulse.
"I didn't hear you come in."
Victor's gaze swept the room, then drifted back to him, slow and deliberate.
"I didn't make a sound."
