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Chapter Five: The Apartment
Everything came back in pieces.
First, the pounding in his skull. Then, cold air on sweaty skin. Then—sheets. Soft ones. Unfamiliar. A dark gray blanket tangled around his legs like it owned him.
Elias groaned. Reached for his head.
Shit. That hurt.
He sat up too fast. Bad idea. The room tilted. His stomach flipped. Pale morning light crept through half-closed blackout curtains, casting long shadows on spotless floors and furniture that looked way too damn expensive to be his.
This wasn't home.
Panic hit like a punch.
"Where the hell—?"
A door creaked.
Damien stepped in, calm as ever. Black turtleneck, dark slacks, coffee mug in one hand. He looked like he belonged in a magazine ad. Or a cult.
"You're awake," he said, like this was normal.
Elias blinked. "What…where the fuck am I?"
"My place," Damien replied, setting the mug on the table by the bed. "You passed out."
"No shit. I was attacked." Elias shoved off the duvet, forcing himself to sit up fully even as his brain screamed abort. "Someone grabbed me at the damn archive. Why am I here and not—I dunno—a hospital?"
Damien's face didn't change. "Because I brought you here."
"You what?"
"You were out cold. I didn't trust anyone else." He said it like it was some casual grocery run.
"You kidnapped me."
Damien exhaled. "Don't be dramatic."
Elias stood—wobbled a little—but his voice was sharp now. "Oh, I'm sorry. 'Don't be dramatic?' I wake up in a stranger's bed, after getting knocked out, and you're giving me calm kidnapper vibes?"
"You're not thinking clearly."
"I'm thinking just fine!" Elias snapped, storming past him. The apartment was huge—cold as hell. Gray walls. Black glass. Stainless steel. Not a single photo, not a speck of dust. Like a showroom with no soul.
He reached the door. "I'm out. I don't care if you saved my ass. I didn't ask you to."
"You're not leaving," Damien said behind him, voice quiet.
Elias paused. "Sorry—what?"
"You heard me."
He turned slowly. "You think locking me up is gonna make me grateful?"
Damien's expression darkened. "Not grateful. Alive."
Elias gave a bitter laugh. "You're not my goddamn babysitter."
"No," Damien said, stepping forward, "but I'm the only one who gives a shit whether you live or die."
Elias scoffed. "You don't even know me."
Damien closed the distance fast, grabbing his wrist—not rough, but enough to make Elias freeze.
"You were seconds away from becoming another cold case," Damien said, low and sharp. "Whoever came after you knew where you'd be. That wasn't random."
"And dragging me to your Batcave is somehow better?"
"I kept you alive, didn't I?"
"Great. So now I'm your hostage?"
Damien's lips curled slightly. "You want the truth?"
"I want out."
A beat of silence.
Then Damien let go. Walked to the kitchen like nothing happened. Calm. Controlled. Annoyingly hot in a villain-on-a-redemption-arc kind of way.
"You're moving in," he said over his shoulder.
Elias blinked. "I'm what?"
"You heard me." Sip of coffee. Like this was just casual Tuesday stuff. "Your place isn't safe anymore. Whoever's after you—they've got eyes. Here, I can control things."
Elias stared at him like he'd grown horns. "You're actually serious."
"I don't joke."
"You're outta your damn mind," Elias snapped. "This whole controlling protector routine? Not sexy. Just weird."
Damien turned, dead calm. "You're reckless. You dig where you shouldn't. You chase ghosts and call it closure. You're gonna get yourself killed."
"And you think you're my knight in black armor?"
"No," Damien said, walking up to him again, slower this time. "I think I'm the only one who actually sees what's happening."
Elias stepped back until his back hit the wall. Damien didn't stop. Towered over him. Way too close. Way too intense.
"I won't let you die like he did," Damien whispered.
Elias flinched. "What are you talking about?"
Damien's face cracked. Just a little.
"I failed him," he said.
The air shifted. Thick with things neither of them said.
"Why do you care?" Elias asked, barely above a whisper.
Damien looked at him like he was seeing someone else. Someone already dead. His hand came up—rested on Elias's jaw. Gentle. Too gentle.
"I should've protected him better."
Elias trembled. "I'm not him."
"I know."
Then Damien kissed him.
Not soft. Not slow.
Desperate. Messy. Like punishment. Like grief.
Elias gasped, but didn't pull away. Couldn't. His hands curled into Damien's shirt, holding on for balance—or maybe for something else entirely.
Damien's hand slid down, gripped the side of his neck just tight enough to make him shiver.
Then he pulled back. Breathless.
"You're staying."
Elias said nothing.
He didn't know what to say.
---
Later That Day
Elias sat on a cold-ass leather couch, staring down at the photo in his lap—the one he'd stolen from the archive. Julian's face. Smiling. Frozen in time.
He hadn't meant to keep it.
Damien walked back in, tapping at his phone like nothing had happened. "I got your schedule changed. You'll be working with me now. Full-time."
Elias looked up. "You what?"
"You heard me."
"You can't just—"
"I can," Damien cut in. "I did."
Elias stood. "And if I refuse?"
"You won't." Damien's tone was annoyingly confident. "You want answers. I've got them."
The worst part? He wasn't wrong.
Elias clenched his jaw. "I still don't trust you."
"Good," Damien said, already walking away. "Trust'll get you killed."
His phone buzzed again.
He paused. Checked it.
A flicker—barely there—crossed his face. He shoved the phone into his coat pocket and turned down the hall without a word.
Elias frowned.
Weird.
He glanced at the coat draped on the chair.
Hesitated.
Then got up. Fingers shaking just a little, he pulled the phone out.
One unread message.
> 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 heart stopped.
That face.
He knew that face.
Julian.
The phone slipped from his hands to the ground.
Everything went cold. He couldn't believe it.