Chapter 32: Threshold

Chapter 32: Chapter 32: Threshold

Sebastian stopped fighting him.

That was the first thing that frightened Nero.

The second was the blood.

Sebastian had resisted being pulled against him with what little strength remained, one hand braced uselessly against Nero’s chest, until another cough tore through him. His body folded forward, and Nero tightened both arms around him before his knees could give way.

Warm blood soaked through Nero’s white shirt almost immediately.

"Sebastian."

Another cough followed, harsher than the first. Blood darkened the fabric across Nero’s chest and smeared along the side of Sebastian’s mouth.

The room had become chaos around them.

Chairs scraped back. Lucas was saying Sebastian’s name somewhere close. Sirius had ordered the ventilation sealed and the secretary removed. Medical staff were already moving from the side of the chamber.

Nero barely registered any of it.

His attention remained on the man in his arms.

Seventeen days.

Sebastian had left him seventeen days ago.

He had been unstable at Zion’s wedding, dangerously so, but Nero had known what he was feeling beneath Sebastian’s skin. The deterioration had been advanced, yet still controlled enough that walking away had not meant immediate death.

Nero had hated letting him go.

He had still done it because Sebastian had possessed time.

This was not seventeen days of deterioration.

This looked like someone had taken those seventeen days and compressed months into them.

Nero’s jaw tightened.

Sebastian’s body almost folded. Nero caught him before his head could strike the table, but the force of the movement dragged both of them down until Nero’s knees hit the marble floor hard enough to send pain up his thighs.

He barely noticed.

Sebastian was coughing again, each convulsion smaller than the last but somehow more frightening because there was less strength behind them, and Nero could feel the man’s weight settling heavier against him as blood soaked through the front of his shirt and spread warm against his skin.

"Claude."

"I’m here."

Nero looked up.

Claude had dropped to one knee beside them, tablet in one hand and the other already reaching for Sebastian’s wrist monitor, but the screen still showed nothing that matched what was happening in front of them.

"No alarm?" Nero asked.

Claude’s face had gone rigid. "No."

"Still the same readings?"

"Yes."

Nero laughed once, without amusement, and lowered his gaze to Sebastian again.

The monitor might as well have been decorative.

Sebastian’s forehead rested against Nero’s collarbone now, his breathing shallow enough that Nero could count every inhale, while his pheromonal system clung to Nero’s field with a desperation that felt almost violent.

Seventeen days ago, Sebastian had fought the stabilization.

Now his body was devouring it.

That was the only reading Nero trusted.

He slid one hand higher along Sebastian’s back, spreading his palm between his shoulder blades while his other arm remained locked around the man’s waist.

"Sebastian, listen to me."

A faint movement against his chest told him Sebastian was conscious.

"I’m going to use more."

Sebastian’s fingers tightened weakly in the ruined fabric of Nero’s shirt.

"No."

The word was barely audible.

Nero closed his eyes for a second.

"I know."

He hated that answer because it sounded too much like an apology.

Behind them, Lucas had moved closer, but Trevor caught his arm before he could enter the edge of Nero’s pheromonal field. Sirius was issuing orders to clear unnecessary personnel from the chamber, while Dax stood several meters away, completely still, watching his son with enough understanding to know exactly what Nero was considering.

Claude spoke quietly. "If you push past stabilization, we may not know when the transition begins."

Nero looked at the useless green screen.

"We already don’t know what his body is doing."

"That doesn’t make this safe."

"No."

Nero lowered his head until his mouth was near Sebastian’s temple.

"But neither is letting him die because a monitor refuses to notice."

Sebastian tried to lift his head.

Nero tightened his hold.

"You can hate me later."

"Already do."

The whisper was rough and wet with blood.

Nero almost smiled.

"Good," he murmured. "Keep doing that."

Sebastian’s fingers tightened weakly in the blood-soaked front of Nero’s shirt, but whatever answer he meant to give disappeared beneath another rough cough that folded him inward.

Nero caught him closer and looked over his shoulder.

"Everyone out." His voice was low, the usual register he used when he gave orders as the Crown Prince.

Claude immediately frowned. "Your Highness, I need to monitor—"

"You can monitor from outside."

The physician glanced at Sebastian, then at the tablet still displaying readings that bore almost no relationship to the man bleeding across Nero’s chest.

Nero’s expression hardened.

"If his control breaks completely, this room becomes the center of it. Get them out before he hurts someone."

That ended the argument.

Sirius ordered the chamber cleared. Zion moved with him, directing advisers and staff toward the doors while Trevor caught Lucas around the arm when he tried to remain. Lucas looked ready to fight him for it until another uneven wave of Sebastian’s pheromones pressed outward, sharp enough to make several glasses tremble against the table.

Claude left his emergency case within Nero’s reach.

Dax departed last.

For a moment, he simply looked at Nero.

No warning. No advice.

He understood.

Then the doors closed.

The sudden silence felt enormous.

Nero remained on the marble floor with Sebastian held against him, surrounded by overturned chairs, scattered documents, and blood darkening the polished stone beneath Sebastian’s hand.

Nothing else mattered for him.

Only the man breathing badly against his throat.

Nero spread one hand between Sebastian’s shoulder blades and let more of his pheromones through, controlled but deeper now, enough to feel Sebastian’s failing system catch around them.

His resistance weakened.

Nero lowered his face until his mouth brushed Sebastian’s hair.

"My moon."

Sebastian did not react.

He was barely conscious now.

Nero closed his eyes, his arm tightening around him.

He already knew Sebastian would not hear the question.

Still, he asked.

"Can I?"