Chapter 17
The silence that lingered after Victor’s confession felt like a scream Elias couldn’t silence.
Your mother is alive.
Those four words had detonated something deep inside him—rage, confusion, grief, disbelief. He didn’t move as Victor exited the room, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. He simply stood there, staring at the empty space where his father had been seconds ago, his hands clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms.
It felt like his world had been rewritten in permanent ink. Again.
Everything he had believed—her death, his hatred, the vow for revenge—it all hovered on the edge of something darker now. Something messier. The clarity of his pain was now clouded with questions.
Where was she?
Why did Victor lie?
Had she abandoned him—or had she been taken?
He lowered himself slowly onto the leather couch, the cushions groaning beneath his weight as if they, too, were exhausted by the truth. His mind was a cyclone, spinning too fast, scattering every thought before he could grab hold of it. He hated this—this helplessness, this unfamiliar vulnerability.
Victor had him caged again, not with threats this time, but with hope.
And Elias wasn’t sure which was worse.
He buried his face in his hands, fingers digging into his scalp. Rage coiled beneath his skin, hot and blinding, but beneath that was something worse—a hollow ache. A bruised place in his chest that throbbed at the thought of her.
All these years, he’d been mourning a ghost.
Now, that ghost had a pulse.
He exhaled harshly, dragging his palms down his face, grounding himself in the moment. The room was too quiet. Too neat. Too false. His thoughts needed somewhere else to go. Something to cling to. Something real.
And from the depths of the chaos, a name surfaced.
Jace.
That reckless, defiant boy with venom in his glare and a mouth that tasted like sin. Elias had tried to pretend he was just another obsession. Another plaything. But there was a reason Jace lingered longer than the others. A reason his scent still clung to Elias’s skin, days later.
He closed his eyes and let the memory bleed through—the feel of Jace writhing beneath him, biting back moans that always broke free anyway. The way his eyes flared when Elias touched him just right. The push and pull. The tension. The fury.
Elias’s cock twitched at the memory of that night in his office. Jace’s mouth parted around Elias’s fingers, tongue soft and hot, his breath hitching just before surrender. That moment—that slow fall into power—Elias lived for it.
He knew he shouldn’t be thinking of him now. Not after what Victor had just dropped on him. But Elias didn’t give a damn. Jace was his distraction. His escape.
His.
He leaned back on the couch, one hand resting over his stomach, the other drifting to the swell beneath his waistband. The thoughts turned darker. Dirtier. Of Jace begging. Of Jace on his knees. Of that perfect little sound he made right before breaking.
He’d take him again soon. Maybe tie him up this time. Maybe drag him to the edge and keep him there, until he forgot his own name.
Elias’s eyes fluttered shut, breath heavy.
Then—his phone buzzed.
He ignored it at first, annoyed by the interruption. But the second buzz came with a familiar chime—the one reserved for him.
Jace.
Elias’s eyes snapped open.
He grabbed the phone off the table, almost carelessly, but the second he saw the name on the screen, his fingers stilled.
A message from Jace.
He blinked once. Then again.
A single line glowed on the screen:
I need to see you.
His blood stilled. Then surged.
Jace never texted first. In fact, the little brat barely replied when Elias texted him. A few dry responses here and there, but never—never—this. This wasn’t playful. This wasn’t teasing.
This was intentional.
Elias sat up straighter, pulse beginning to thrum. His entire body tuned in, like a predator catching the scent of prey. His mind began unraveling the possibilities—Was Jace drunk? Desperate? Or was he luring Elias in for something more?
His little plaything was planning something.
And Elias couldn’t wait to find out what.
He typed out a response, fast and sharp:
Address.
The three dots popped up immediately.
Jace was still there. Waiting.
Seconds later, the reply came through: an address in Brooklyn. No emojis. No explanation. Just a location. And then… silence.
Elias stared at it, lips parting.
What the hell was going on?
He stood, his body moving before his mind could fully catch up. He moved to the bar in his father's office and poured himself two fingers of scotch, tossing it back like water. It burned his throat, but the fire settled his nerves.
Whatever Jace had planned—Elias was ready.
His pupils were dilated. His chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile.
Jace had flipped the switch, and now Elias was burning.