Not to Elias. He could shoot Victor in the head and I’d buy him whatever he wanted. No, I speak to the men that are wanting to train their bullets on my partner.
“Apologize,” Elias says steadily.
Victor’s jaw tightens. “Elias?—”
“Apologize,” he repeats. “To my lover.”
The word slices through the room.
Lover.
There is no hiding now.
I meet Elias’s eyes across the table and lick my lips.
Victor exhales slowly. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
The gun presses harder.
“Apologize,” Elias says again,
Every instinct in me wants to intervene, but I told him that he is my equal. So I must support him.
Victor closes his eyes briefly.
When he opens them again, the calculation is visible.
“Lucian,” he says stiffly, “if my words were…misinterpreted?—”
“Not good enough,” Elias interrupts.
I almost smile.
Victor swallows pride like poison.
“I apologize,” he says at last, voice tight. “For questioning your leadership.”
Elias doesn’t lower the gun. “And?” he prompts.
Victor’s jaw flexes. “And for implying you mistreated my son.”
The room shifts again. Elias lowers the weapon slowly. He steps back to my side.
“Is anyone else unclear?” I ask the table softly.
No one answers.
Good. I step forward slightly.
“The truce stands,” I say. “Hartford attempted to dismantle it. He is gone.”
My gaze returns to Victor. “You want assurance?” I ask him.
“Yes,” he says carefully.
“Then here it is.”
I slide another document across the table.
