Elias couldn't catch his breath.
He sat on the edge of Damien's bed, the cold silver wolf necklace biting into his palm, blood pooling from his grip. Noah's necklace. Not just his brother's—Damien's gift too. A symbol. A secret. A curse.
His world spun. Screaming felt impossible. Instead, he curled forward, forehead pressed to knees, shaking. Noah was dead. And now the past clawed into the present like a living nightmare.
Damien came back without warning—jacket on, phone in hand.
"Get dressed," Damien said, voice low but urgent. "The cops are waiting."
Elias's voice cracked, barely a whisper. "They blaming me again?"
"No," Damien said flatly. "Not yet. But they will. If we don't control the story."
---
Crime Scene – 2:43 A.M.
Yellow tape flapped in the chill night breeze. Flashlights sliced through shadows, painting sharp angles on wet pavement.
Elias stayed behind Damien, heart hammering like a war drum. No reporters yet. But they'd come. They always did.
Captain Yara approached, nodding toward Damien. "We haven't touched a thing. Thought you'd want first look."
Damien knelt, peeling the bloodied cloth away.
Elias flinched hard.
It wasn't just the blood or twisted limbs. It was the eyes—empty but painted. Smudged blue eyeshadow. Noah's favorite shade.
Then the chest.
A raw, cruel carving: E.V.
Elias stumbled back, bile rising.
Damien's fists clenched, knuckles white. "They're mocking us. You."
Cold seeped into Elias's bones. "Why? Why go this far?"
Captain Yara glanced between them. "That necklace—your brother's?"
He nodded, voice tight.
"How did he die?"
Elias's throat tightened. Damien answered before he could. "Car accident. Two years back. Official story."
Elias's eyes narrowed. "What?"
Damien's voice turned ice-cold. "I never bought it. Noah was targeted. This proves it. Someone's turning his death into a message. This isn't random."
---
Back Alley Behind the Station – Later That Night
Damien walked alone, swallowed by darkness. No wind stirred, but inside him, chaos raged.
Under a flickering streetlamp, the necklace weighed heavy in his hand.
He remembered that night—the quiet, the foolish grin, the kiss he never deserved to give.
"I'll keep you safe," he'd whispered.
Lies.
A guttural cry tore from his throat as he smashed his fist into cold brick. Again and again, blood dripping down, pounding rhythm echoing years of pain and loss.
Raw sobs shook him—harsh, ragged, unyielding.
Noah had been more than a memory. He was peace. Now defiled, bleeding into ruin.
---
Damien's Apartment – Dawn
Elias sat tangled in silence, fingers threading through messy hair. Sleep was gone. The image of the body haunted him—blue eyelids, carved initials.
He pulled up a photo of Noah on his phone—bright smile, light in his eyes, gone forever.
He remembered the small things: sneaking candy, covering for late nights, that voice urging him, "Don't stop drawing, Eli. Your magic's there."
Elias glanced at his sketchbook, untouched for days.
He flipped to a fresh page and started: the alley. The necklace. The painted eyes.
Then a face surfaced—vivid, from years ago.
The man who lived down the street, always watching. Too interested in them. Especially Noah.
His hand trembled.
Was this the link?
Was everything tied to Noah?
---
Damien Returns
He found Elias curled on the couch, sketchbook open but empty.
"We need to talk," Elias said. "About Noah. About everything you've kept from me."
Damien hesitated, then sat down.
"Why did Noah wear that necklace every day?" Elias asked, voice raw. "Why did you give it to him?"
Damien's voice cracked. "Because I loved him."
Elias swallowed hard.
"We hid it. We were careful. I thought I was protecting him… maybe I was just afraid."
Words stalled in the air, thick with regret.
Now someone dragged their buried past into brutal daylight—with blood.
---
Bathroom – Steam Thick and Heavy
Steam clung to the walls like ghosts. Damien sat shirtless on the tub's edge, bruised knuckles drying, silent since the crime scene.
Elias knelt before him, wringing a towel in warm water. The quiet stretched—heavy, full of all the words neither dared say.
"You punched a wall, Damien," Elias said softly. "You're bleeding."
Damien stared at his hands like they weren't his. "Doesn't matter."
"It matters to me. Sit, lemme grab a first aid box."
Elias gently dabbed at the wounds. Damien flinched—not from pain, but from the unexpected tenderness.
"You don't have to be stone all the time, you are human Cross" Elias whispered.
Damien's jaw tightened. "If I break, I can't protect you."
Elias met his gaze. "You already do. And I really appreciate that"
Something cracked in Damien's eyes. He turned sharply, but Elias caught his arm.
Damien looked back—red-rimmed eyes, a man drowning in memories.
"Get in the tub," Elias said softly. "Please."
Damien hesitated, then stepped into the warm water, sinking with a hiss.
His head tipped back, throat exposed, eyes closed.
Elias watched. Then, quietly, he climbed in—fully clothed.
Water swirled around them. Damien blinked, confused. Elias straddled his lap.
"What are you doing?"
"Something stupid," Elias said, cupping Damien's face.
He kissed him.
Slow at first—uncertain, trembling. Damien answered with desperate hands, pulling Elias close, skin slick against slick.
The kiss deepened—teeth, tongue, raw need. Steam wrapped around them, soft and suffocating.
Elias tugged off his shirt, tossing it aside. Damien's hands roamed hungrily down his back.
Elias broke the kiss, breath shaky, water dripping down his cheeks. "This doesn't make sense."
"Nothing does," Damien rasped. "But I need this."
They moved together, gasps bouncing off tile. Pleasure tangled with grief, rage, heartbreak—a cruel symphony.
When they finally came apart, silence fell. Damien held Elias like glass. Elias clung like a lifeline.
The water stilled.
"You never cried for him," Elias murmured.
Damien swallowed hard. "I couldn't afford to."
"You can now."
No answer.
Later, Elias fell asleep on Damien's chest. Damien slipped from the water, wrapped a towel around his waist, and stepped out onto the dark balcony.
Under the stars, he wept—fists pounding brick until skin split, sobs wracking his body.
"Noah," he whispered, forehead pressed to stone. "What did they do to you?"
---
Back Inside
Elias woke in cool sheets, body aching—not unpleasantly.
Then he saw it—an envelope, slid under the door.
Heart hammering, he opened it.
Inside: a photo of himself as a child.
Next to a man, face scratched out in jagged black ink.
On the back, messy scrawl:
"You look just like him."
Elias backed away, throat dry.
He didn't recognize the room.
He didn't recognize the boy.
He barely recognized himself.
---
Flashback – Elias, Age 12
Voices whispered through the night.
Noah arguing on the phone—words sharp, urgent.
Then crying.
Elias cracked the door, eyes wide.
Noah curled tight, clutching the necklace, whispering a name:
"Damien."
---
Present
A knock shattered the silence.
Damien tensed, hand slipping to his gun.
A delivery.
A box, no return address.
Slowly, Damien opened it.
Inside, another photo.
Noah's face.
Red ink scrawled across:
"Next, I take him."
A finger pointed—right at Elias.