They went back to the mansion together that night.
The gates opened with the same familiar groan, iron scraping against stone, and Elliot felt his shoulders loosen the second they stepped inside. The house loomed the way it always had wide, quiet, and oddly comforting. Warm lights glowed from the windows, cutting through the darkness like a promise that nothing had changed.
Dinner was simple. Loud in the way it always was when Aiden talked too much and Leonel pretended not to listen but somehow caught every word. Plates clinked, someone complained about the food being cold, someone else stole from another plate. Normal. Safe.
Elliot watched them more than he ate.
He memorized the way Leonel leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, calm and solid. The way Aiden laughed too hard at his own jokes. He wanted to lock the moment in place, seal it somewhere Lucian couldn't reach.
After dinner, they drifted off one by one.
Elliot retreated to his room last.
