Chapter 47 FRIGHT
The house swallowed them whole the moment they stepped inside.
The doors shut with a heavy finality that made Eli flinch. The echo of it seemed to travel through his bones, through the fragile calm he’d been holding together since the parking lot. Julian didn’t remove his jacket. Anton didn’t loosen his grip on Eli’s arm. No one really spoke.
They moved automatically, it's like muscle memory guiding them into the living room, while their mind was racing through multiple thoughts. The atmosphere feels tight. Like the seconds before a storm splits the sky.
Julian stopped abruptly and turned.
“Come here.”
It wasn’t a command barked with anger. It was worse; quiet, clipped, and vibrating with a barely contained rage.
Eli obeyed.
Julian’s hands came up to his neck, fingers brushing the skin with clinical precision. The touch was careful, but his jaw tightened the moment he saw the faint purpling already blooming beneath Eli’s jawline. The unmistakable imprint of fingers.
Julian’s breath changed.
Anton leaned in from the other side, his thumb gently tilting Eli’s chin up, eyes darkening as he examined the mark. “He grabbed you hard,” Anton murmured. Not accusing or angry. Just stating a fact.
Eli swallowed. His throat ached where Henry’s arm had locked around him. “I—I’m fine,” he said, even though his voice wobbled. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”
Julian’s hands dropped slowly.
That was when Eli felt something in Julian shifting, slipping. The man who was always controlled, always measured, suddenly looked like a wire pulled too tight.
Julian turned away sharply. “Anton.”
Anton straightened. “Yeah.”
“Did you plan the shopping ahead?”
Anton didn’t hesitate. “No.”
Julian’s head snapped back. “At all?”
“No. It was spontaneous. The idea came to me right when we were having breakfast.” Anton frowned. “Why?”
Julian stared at the wall, thoughts moving too fast to track. “Only three people knew,” he said slowly. “You. Me. Eli.”
Anton’s expression sharpened. “The driver?”
“Didn’t know the destination until we were already on the freeway.”
A heavy silence fell.
Anton exhaled through his nose. “Then that leaves… where’s the bodyguard you instructed to call the store?”
Julian was already moving.
He crossed the room in long, lethal strides and hit the intercom panel. “Bring him in,” he said. “Now.”
Eli’s stomach dropped.
Anton turned slightly, positioning himself closer to Eli without touching him. “Julian,” he said carefully. “Let’s confirm before—”
But Julian wasn’t listening.
Moments later, the bodyguard entered the room. He was one of Julian’s regulars; broad-shouldered, clean-cut, the kind of man who had passed background checks Eli didn’t even want to imagine. He looked confused, not scared.
“Yes, sir?” the guard asked.
Julian faced him. “Empty your pockets.”
The man blinked. “Sir?”
“Now.”
The guard hesitated, just a fraction too long, before complying. He pulled out keys. Wallet. And then—
Two phone.
Anton’s eyes flicked to it instantly.
Julian picked it up slowly, turned it over in his palm. “You know the rules,” Julian said softly. “One device. Only the one I give you. No personal phones.”
The guard swallowed. “Sir, I can explain—”
Julian didn’t ask him to.
The sound that followed was sharp and wet.
Julian moved faster than Eli could process: one hand grabbing the man’s collar, the other snapping up under his jaw. There was a sickening crack as Julian twisted, raw strength and fury converging in a single motion.
Eli screamed.
The bodyguard collapsed, but Julian wasn’t done. He pulled out his gun and fired multiple shots; finishing off the man.
The gunshot exploded in the room.
Blood sprayed the floor.
Eli’s legs gave out. He would have hit the ground if Anton hadn’t caught him, arms wrapping around his chest and dragging him backward.
“No—no—no—” Eli choked, breath coming in shallow gasps. His vision blurred. The smell of gunpowder burned his nose. His ears rang.
Julian stood over the body, chest heaving.
This wasn’t some kind of calculated strategy.
It was just loss of control. Out of anger.
Anton pulled Eli away, turning his face into his shoulder. “Don’t look,” Anton said firmly, one hand covering the back of Eli’s head. “Don’t overthink it.”
Eli shook violently. “He—he didn’t even—Julian didn’t ask—”
“I know,” Anton murmured.
Julian turned, and his eyes narrowed. Because Eli was looking at him with fear.
Pure, unfiltered terror.
It hit Julian like a physical blow.
His gun slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor. His shoulders sagged, the rage draining out of him all at once, leaving something raw and horrified behind.
Eli flinched anyway.
Julian’s throat bobbed. “Eli,” he said hoarsely.
Anton tightened his hold. “Not now,” he said quietly, but with unmistakable authority. “You scared him.”
Julian looked like he’d been stabbed.
“I didn’t mean—” Julian started, then stopped. There were no words that could fix what Eli had just seen.
Anton didn’t wait. He guided Eli out of the room, one arm firm around his back, murmuring nonsense words meant to comfort him. Eli barely registered the stairs, the hallway, the way his own body trembled like it didn’t belong to him.
Behind them, Julian stayed where he was.
Alone with the consequences.
Anton shut the bedroom door gently and sat Eli down on the bed. He crouched in front of him, eyes level, voice calm and steady. “You’re safe,” he said. “You hear me? It’s over.”
Eli nodded, tears spilling freely now. “I thought—” His voice broke. “I thought I was going to die. In the parking lot. And then just now—I thought Julian—”
“I know,” Anton said softly. He reached up and brushed his thumb under Eli’s eye. “You’re allowed to be scared.”
Eli pressed his hands to his face and sobbed.
Anton stayed.
Downstairs, Julian sank to his knees.
For the first time in years, the monster he’d become stared back at him; and it wore Eli’s frightened eyes.
…And to Eli: Anton feels safe. Julian does not.