Chapter 150

Chapter 150: Chapter 150

Darius’s pov

The rain had stopped, leaving behind a thick, heavy fog that pooled around the base of my hideout.

I was feeling so smug after getting my hands on that filthy slut. He thought he was above me because a vampire chose him?

Yet he was begging on his knees like the whore he was for me to ram my cock down his ass.

I hissed, I am sure he would come back begging for me to finish the job and give him what his big, bad vampire couldn’t do.

I sat in a high-backed velvet armchair, a crystal tumbler of vintage blood-wine resting casually against my knee.

The room was bathed in the warm, ambient glow of amber wall sconces, completely detached from the cold dampness of the mountain night outside.

On the low glass table beside me, the silver box sat open was empty, its iron suppressant collar currently locked away in my lower armory.

The heavy glass doors behind me didn’t click open so much as they were slammed shut with unnecessary violence.

"He’s still there, Darius!"

Julian stepped out of the shadows of the vestibule, his lips twisted into a snarl. His hair was ruffled like he had run his hands over it so many times.

His aura was cracking just as the edge as his power filled the room maliciously. I stiffened but kept the same smug smile on my lips.

I could stare at death in the face and still be as fulfilled as I am right now, I have finally tasted what everyone had tasted, I understood the appeal.

Lysander tasted as sweet as ever, I knew his beautiful looks weren’t wasted. What was in his ass was sweeter than life.

I chuckled and stifled it immediately, I took a sip from my wine and rinsed my mouth.

"You’re tracking mud onto the Italian marble, Julian," I said smoothly, my voice barely raised above a quiet murmur.

"Did you hear what I said?!" Julian strode across the polished floor, his leather boots leaving dark, wet prints against the stone.

He slammed both hands flat onto the glass table, making the crystal tumbler rattle. "Drake brought him back into the house! He didn’t lock him in the lower dungeons! He didn’t tear his throat out! He pulled him right back into his bed!"

I tilted my head, looking up at him over the rim of my glass.

Julian was young and it showed in his character, he had spent years salivating over the prospect of being in his former lover’s bed. He wanted to be everything Lysander was right now but he had to be patient.

I didn’t get to where I was by being impatient, sure I have had some moments where I felt everything needed to be burnt down but I swallowed it.

I could begin to explain things to him but he wouldn’t listen, he was far too ill tempered to listen to reason.

"What is the problem?" I asked as calmly as I could.

"And you expected what, exactly?" I asked softly. "A public execution on the council steps?"

"I expected Drake to react like a High Sovereign that he is!" Julian hissed, leaning down until his glowing red eyes were level with mine. "We gave him everything! We let that filthy boy wander back to your place, don’t think I don’t know you fucked him as soon as he came here. You wouldn’t be able to resist. You covered him in your filthy human scent and let him escape. Any normal pureblood would have snapped the creature’s spine the second he crossed the threshold!"

"Drake is not a normal pureblood," I murmured, swirling the dark liquid in my glass. "Which is precisely why you are sitting here panicking, and I am enjoying a nineteen-hundred vintage."

Julian let out a harsh, incredulous laugh, backing away from the table and shoving his hands into his coat pockets. He began pacing the length of the glass wall like a caged animal.

"He’s covering for him," Julian rasped, his eyes flashing in the dim light. "Nothing has been reported yet, is Drake covering for that slut?"

I clenched my fists under the table and forced my eyes to look as normal as possible, "I wouldn’t say he is covering for him, maybe he doesn’t know yet."

"Nonsense," Julian slammed his hands down, "I know how you filthy human think. You all but peed on him, how the hell won’t Drake notice another man’s scent on his little toy?"

Julian’s eyes widened as an idea came to his head, "Has he finally gone soft? Is he sweeping it under the rug and letting it slide?"

"He isn’t sweeping it anywhere," I corrected smoothly, setting my glass down on the table with a soft clink. "He’s suffocating."

Julian stopped pacing, turning his sharp gaze toward me. "What?"

"Drake is an ancient predator, Julian. When a beast like that finds a crack in his prize, he doesn’t throw it away. He grips it tighter." I stood up slowly, smoothing the lapels of my dark suit jacket, stepping over to the edge of the terrace glass to look out into the foggy abyss of the valley. "He knows Lysander lied to him. He smells the discrepancy. But to acknowledge it publicly, to admit that his precious, fragile little hybrid walked straight into my study on his own two feet would mean acknowledging that his golden fortress is a failure."

"So he just ignores it?!" Julian demanded, throwing his hands up in frustration. "What was the point of bringing Gideon back from the brink? What was the point of burning through three barrels of black-market blood reagents if that bastard Sovereign is just going to tuck the boy into bed and pretend nothing happened?!"

I turned around and smiled at him, I let him see the coldness in my eyes that meant I would stop at nothing until I get what I wanted.

Julian’s jaw clamped shut instantly as he searched my eyes, whatever he saw in there calmed him. The arrogant frustration in his posture vanished, replaced by a more curious gaze.

"You lack vision, Julian," I said softly, stepping toward him, my polished boots making no sound against the marble. "You think in terms of battles. Swords, teeth, and sudden violence. That is how wars are lost."

I stopped two feet from him, towering over his tense frame.

"A physical wound heals," I continued, my voice dipping into a low, velvet purr. "If I had kept Lysander here, if I had locked him in my cells tonight, Drake would have mobilized the entire eastern legion by sunrise. He would have had a clear, righteous war to fight. He would have marched on this compound, leveled these walls, and reclaimed his mate with a clear mind and an open heart."

Julian swallowed hard, his red eyes darting to mine. "And by letting the hybrid go back...?"

"By letting him go back," I smiled—a slow, lethal curve of my lips, "I placed a ticking bomb inside Drake’s bed."

I walked past Julian, stepping over to the small antique side table where a small glass projection vial sat waiting. I picked it up, letting the faint blue light pulse between my fingers.

"Lysander is currently sitting in that estate, suffocating under the weight of his own lies," I murmured. "He believes Gideon is an anchored phantom tied to his soul. He believes his mind is completely shattered. Every touch from Drake now feels like a countdown to his own execution. Every quiet moment in that house is poison."

"And Drake?" Julian asked, his voice dropping as he finally began to understand.

"Drake is living with a ghost he cannot see and a mate he can no longer trust," I said, my smile widening into something truly sinister. "He won’t sleep. He won’t breathe easy. He will spend every hour of every day watching Lysander’s eyes, searching for the next betrayal, slowly driven mad by his own possessive paranoia."

Julian stared at me for a long moment, the anger draining from his face, replaced by a dark, slow-burning realization.

"You didn’t want Drake to kill him," Julian whispered.

"Of course not," I chuckled low in my throat, tossing the projection vial lightly in my palm before catching it. "I want Drake to break him. I want his own hands to be the ones that finally snap the hybrid’s spirit. And when Lysander is broken beyond repair, when the trust between them is nothing more than ash, the boy will come running back to me on his knees."

Julian let out a slow, dark breath, a cruel grin finally dawning on his sharp features. "And Gideon?"

"Gideon remains in the lower sanctuary," I said smoothly, walking back toward my armchair and picking up my wine glass once more. "Kept on a short leash, waiting for his cue. When the time is right, we will let Lysander see him one more time. Just enough to shatter whatever tiny sliver of sanity he has left."

Julian took a step back, bowing his head slightly—a rare, genuine gesture of deference. "I spoke too soon, Darius. Forgive my impatience."

"Impatience is the weakness of the young, Julian," I purred, taking another slow sip of the rich blood-wine. "Go back to your hideout. Keep your scouts hidden, and tell them to watch the estate’s eastern windows. The show is just beginning."

Julian nodded once, turning on his heel and gliding out of the conservatory, the heavy glass doors closing behind him with a soft, airtight seal.

I sat back down in my armchair, looking out into the foggy darkness where Drake’s estate lay hidden high up on the ridge.

I raised my glass toward the distant amber lights of the mountain, a low, dark laugh echoing off the cold marble walls.

"Sleep well, Balthazar" I whispered to the empty room. "Enjoy your prize while he still belongs to you."