CHAPTER SIX: A BEAUTIFUL LIE
The message had been simple: Stay away.
But Elias Vale had never been good at obedience—especially not when it came from Damien Cross. That man's commands were like invisible wires, strangling and seductive at once.
And yet, when Julian sent the message—I know something. Come alone. 41st and Granger—Elias didn't hesitate. He snuck out. No coat. No backup. Just hope.
---
The night air burned against his skin as he crept down the alley beside the abandoned auto shop. Everything looked… wrong. Windows shattered. A rusted oil drum on its side. Doors ajar like open mouths.
He swallowed hard and stepped inside.
"Julian?" his voice cracked, flashlight trembling in his hand.
Silence.
Then something wet squished beneath his shoe. He looked down.
Blood. A trail.
His chest tightened as he followed it—and found him.
Julian.
Dead.
Sprawled against a workbench, his head tilted at a sickening angle, his eyes frozen in terror. Blood soaked his hoodie. A smear of red still wet beneath his mouth.
Elias dropped to his knees. "No—no, no—Julian—"
He shook his shoulder, patted his face. "Wake up. Please wake up!"
Julian's hand twitched—no, not really. It was just the way it had fallen. A final reflex. A dying gesture.
Then—
Sirens.
Red and blue flooded the windows. Voices shouted. Radios crackled.
"POLICE! HANDS IN THE AIR!"
Elias turned, blinded by lights. "He's—he's dead—I just found him like this!"
"Down! On the ground!"
A baton struck his side. Hands yanked him forward. His cheek hit cold concrete. Cuffs bit into his wrists.
Cameras flashed.
Reporters howled:
"That's the intern!"
"Damien Cross's boy—covered in blood!"
"Is this the killer?"
And all Elias could do was scream, "I didn't do this!"
But no one was listening.
---
THREE HOURS LATER – INTERROGATION ROOM
Elias sat shaking, crusted blood flaking off his fingertips. Tears streaked his face. He could still see Julian's lifeless eyes. Still smell the blood.
The door slammed open.
Damien entered, trench coat billowing, black eyes locked on him.
Elias stood. "I didn't—Damien, please, I didn't kill him!"
"I know," Damien said flatly. "Sit down."
Elias collapsed into the chair. "They think I did. They're going to charge me."
"They won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm not letting them."
Elias's lip trembled. "Julian… he knew something. He was going to tell me—"
Damien's jaw flexed. "And now he's dead."
"I shouldn't have gone—God, I should've listened—"
Tears surged again. Real, raw sobs. He covered his face with his bound hands and tried not to fall apart.
Damien's chair scraped as he stood. Moments later, strong arms wrapped around Elias.
He didn't resist this time.
He crumbled.
He wept like the world was ending. And maybe it had. Because Julian was dead. And the only person who didn't look at him like a monster… was the very man everyone feared.
"I didn't mean to—" Elias choked. "I just wanted answers."
"I know," Damien whispered. "Shh. I've got you."
He pulled Elias into his chest, held him like something precious. Elias clung to his coat, sobbing until his body gave out.
---
DAMIEN'S APARTMENT – HOURS LATER
Elias awoke in a silk-sheeted bed, his limbs aching with exhaustion. The room smelled faintly of cedarwood and cologne. A glass of water sat on the nightstand.
He blinked.
This wasn't his room.
"Morning," Damien said from the doorway.
Elias sat up. "Where…?"
"My apartment. You passed out."
Elias rubbed his eyes. "You drug me?"
Damien smirked faintly. "You cried yourself unconscious. I let you sleep."
Elias climbed out of bed, uneasy. "I need to go home. I need to—"
"You're already home," Damien said, walking over to the wardrobe and pulling it open.
Elias froze.
His clothes. His sketchbooks. His favorite hoodie. His toothbrush.
"You—what the hell is this?" Elias turned on him. "Did you move my stuff here?"
"Yes," Damien said calmly.
"You didn't even ask!"
"I did. You refused. So I made the choice for you."
Elias's hands clenched into fists. "You can't just take over my life!"
"I just did," Damien said. "You're safer here. You'll remain here. That's final."
"You're insane," Elias hissed. "This is kidnapping."
Damien moved fast, pinning Elias against the wall. His breath was ice and fire at once.
"You think you have a better shot alone? After what happened tonight?" His voice was low, lethal. "The police, the press, the killer—they all want you. Here, you're mine. And I protect what's mine."
Elias shivered. Not just from fear. From the sheer, burning tension that sizzled between them like live wire.
"You want control," Elias whispered.
"I want you alive," Damien said. "If that means control, so be it."
And then—God help him—Elias kissed him.
Their mouths collided like thunder. Teeth. Tongue. Rage. Desire.
Damien gripped Elias's jaw, deepening the kiss with a groan.
It was reckless. Terrifying. Perfect.
But then—
BZZZT.
Damien's phone vibrated violently.
He broke the kiss, panting. "What now?"
He answered. Eyes narrowed. He turned away, listening.
Elias wiped his mouth, pulse still racing.
Then Damien stiffened. His hand clenched around the phone.
"What is it?" Elias asked, still breathless.
Damien hung up.
"They found another body."
Elias's stomach dropped. "Who?"
Damien turned, voice low and deadly: "This one… had your brother's necklace around his neck."