[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction

Victor's laugh was soft and low, a sound that curled through the night air like smoke from a match.

"Jealous?" he repeated, tasting the word as if it amused him more than it should. He pushed off the doorframe with lazy grace, taking a step onto the terrace, letting the night settle around him like it had been designed to suit him.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on Elias, slow and unblinking, as if weighing how much of the truth would make things worse in exactly the right way.

"You think I would compete with a voice on a phone?" he asked at last, tone quiet, almost fond, but far from being harmless.

Elias's fingers tightened faintly around his phone, the dull throb in his palm reminding him of the scrapes, the runs, the too‑close night that had brought him here. His chest rose, then fell, too fast, but he didn't look away.

Victor moved like the night itself had decided to take shape, unhurried, inevitable, each step eating away the distance until the chill of the terrace was replaced by something far warmer and far more dangerous.

Elias didn't retreat, though every nerve in his body screamed at him to. His back brushed the railing, cold metal biting through his shirt, grounding him in a moment that felt anything but safe.

Victor's hands slid to the rail on either side of him, long fingers curling around the iron with casual possession, caging Elias in without touching him. The air between them changed, thickened, until every breath Elias took dragged Victor's scent deeper into his lungs. A low hum of alpha presence, dark and warm, brushing against his collar, slipping into his head like a hand through water.

Elias's grip on his phone tightened until his knuckles ached. He couldn't look away, not when Victor's eyes were that close, deep crimson catching the light, steady and unblinking, gleaming with something that was neither soft nor cruel but something worse: certainty.

"You are awfully possessive for someone that told me to let Matteo squirm a little. Am I wrong?" Elias asked, his voice calm and soft despite his heart drumming in his chest like crazy.

Victor's smile deepened, slow and deliberate, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes.

"Wrong?" he echoed, voice a low hum that sank under Elias's skin. "No. You're not wrong."

He leaned in just a little closer, not enough to touch, but enough that Elias could feel the brush of his breath against his cheek, warm and steady, threaded with the faint taste of something expensive on his lips.

"I told you to let him squirm," Victor murmured, tone soft but dangerous, "because squirming is all he can do."

Elias swallowed, the back of his neck prickling. "You are enjoying this, aren't you?"

Victor's crimson gaze sharpened, catching the terrace light like a blade catching fire. He tilted his head, and the movement was unnervingly graceful, his dark hair slipping loose over his brow.

Victor's lips curved, slow and deliberate, as if Elias had just offered him something far too entertaining to ignore.

"Enjoying?" he echoed, voice low enough to make the night air seem colder by contrast.

He shifted his weight, leaning in just slightly, the white of his shirt brushing the glow from the terrace lights, the rubies at his cuffs winking like coals. His presence was a tide, quiet and relentless, drawing closer without ever needing to touch.

"I've been alive a very long time, Elias," he said, his tone deceptively calm, almost conversational. "There are very few things left that aren't tedious."

His gaze swept over Elias then, unhurried, deliberate, as if cataloguing every flicker of tension in his shoulders, the way his knuckles had whitened around the phone, and the way his heartbeat had betrayed him in the hollow of his throat.

Elias's breath came shallow, his grip on the phone tightening until the edge bit into his palm.

It wasn't that Victor had raised his voice, he hadn't. It wasn't even what he'd said. It was how he said it, that quiet certainty that threaded through every syllable like silk through wire.

This wasn't like the safehouse, where Victor's words had been sharp but almost businesslike, the offer of protection wrapped in danger. It wasn't even like the car, where his amusement had sat heavy over his calm, the taste of power only brushing the surface.

No… this was worse.

Victor's gaze was still on him, unblinking, measuring. He didn't move closer, but the air itself felt bent around him, that low hum of alpha presence coiling tighter, brushing against Elias's collarbone like a phantom hand.

Elias's stomach knotted, a slow drop that made his fingers tremble despite himself. His mind scrambled for a retort, something to break the rhythm, to claw back some semblance of control, but the words refused to come.

Victor tilted his head just slightly, dark hair falling loose over his brow, a look crossing his face that was almost lazy, almost indulgent, except for the glint in those red eyes, sharp as a blade catching light.

"Do you feel it now?" Victor murmured, voice low, smooth, each word dragging slow. "That edge you're standing on?"

Elias didn't answer. Couldn't. He hated how still he'd gone, like some corner of him understood the trap and yet refused to run. His chest felt too tight, his heartbeat thudding in his ears, his back pressed against cold iron while Victor's shadow stretched closer in the terrace light.

Victor's mouth curved faintly, devastating and dark, a hunter's patience dressed as charm.

"Good," he said softly, almost fondly, though his gaze burned with something that made Elias's pulse lurch. "Stay very, very aware of it."

"I trusted the wrong person."

Victor's smile didn't falter.

If anything, it deepened, slow, measured, like Elias was entertaining him beyond measure. 

"Which one?" he asked, voice smooth as glass, low enough that Elias felt it in his chest before he processed the words.

The question wasn't cruel. It wasn't even mocking. It was worse than that. it was curious, almost amused, like Victor was testing which way the cut would go.

Elias's jaw tightened, his fingers aching around the phone, his brows furrowing. "You."