Guilt eats at me. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s too much, too soon.
“I-I’m sorry. Special Agent Clarke showed me a video. You said you wouldn’t kneel—ignore me, I don’t know why I brought it up.”
“No. I want to tell you,” Elias says, intertwining my fingers with his. “The night they killed my parents and Beatrice, they made me kneel before them to beg for their lives.”
He presses our palms together. “It didn’t work. And from then on, I vowed never to kneel again. Not for anyone.”
His voice roughens on the last word, his grip tightening around my fingers. Raw pain cuts through the calm of his eyes, a flicker that vanishes before he can hide it.
The scar, the not kneeling—grief and strength forged into a sharp blade for survival.
A lump thickens my throat. “Thank you for telling me.”
He smiles softly and shrugs.
“It’s not a proper Christmas without your favorite drink.” He slides over a red mug.
I look inside—hot chocolate with marshmallows.
“Geraldine’s,” he murmurs. “A girl once told me hot chocolate is overrated unless it’s Geraldine’s.”
My heart flutters as I take a small sip.
It’s divine.
I look up, not sure how to express the warmth bursting from my chest.
He ruffles his hair and grins, the expression so similar to the carefree Kian, my heart twists.
“I never got to celebrate Christmas with you that year…you mentioned it in your note…” his voice trails off, his eyes distant. “And this year, well, with the Benefaction…”
And the bloodshed. Shkelzen’s tongue. The Association and its threats.
“I just want to do this for you,” he finishes. “Ridiculous, I know—”
I leap up onto the counter, throw my arms around his neck, and kiss away whatever demeaning words he wanted to say.
“It’s perfect.”
He holds me tight, then pulls away, love shining from his gaze. “Glad you like it.”
“I can’t believe you arranged a live version of ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’.”
The geese make a mad dash toward the living room, clearly sensing their impending demise.
Elias scowls. “It was supposed to be an elegant display. I should’ve let Hannah help. Motherfucking Ren disappeared the moment he saw me sign for the deliveries.”
I laugh, remembering Hannah’s expression and imagining Ren rearing in horror.
“Why is Ren always here anyway? He’s not just a bodyguard.”
Elias steps over something I don’t really want to identify, takes my hand, and leads me to the living room.
He sits me down and crouches in front of me.
“Ren and I are part of The Antihero Syndicate,” he says, his eyes steady. “We aren’t the mafia… We’re worse.”
He explains his clandestine brotherhood plus Sofia, whose sole mission is to destroy The Association, and how the dungeon I found him in actually connects to their meeting place in St. Michael’s.
