Chapter 224: Chapter 224: Their true face
Trevor hummed low, not quite sympathetic. "He’ll need more than gods. He’ll need a binding contract, a running start, and perhaps a shovel to dig his own diplomatic grave."
Lucas stood then, not abruptly but with a smoothness that betrayed his discomfort more than anything else. He smoothed the front of his coat, expression carefully polite. "Unfortunately, I have a meeting with both Serathine and Cressida. Together. In the same room. Possibly with sharp objects and poisoned tea."
Sirius grimaced. "That’s not a meeting, that’s a blood sport."
Lucius lifted his brows. "Want me to fake an emergency?"
"No," Lucas said dryly. "If I don’t go, Serathine will send a summons. If I’m late, Cressida will send a sermon. I’d rather face them both on my own terms."
Trevor stood as well, adjusting his cuffs but not offering to escort him. "You remember the escape plan?"
"Left corridor, second tapestry, through the study, out the servant stairs."
"And if you’re caught?"
"Blame you," Lucas said over his shoulder as he headed for the door.
Trevor’s smile flicked into place. "Correct answer."
As the door closed behind Lucas with a gentle click, the room settled into a quieter kind of tension. The light from the high windows had shifted, slanting across the table in longer, heavier lines now, like time itself had taken notice of what remained.
Trevor didn’t sit back down.
He moved instead to the sideboard, refilling his glass with practiced ease. Not rushed, not indulgent, just something to do with his hands while the air shifted in Lucas’s absence.
Lucius leaned forward again, no longer pretending civility. "How bad is it really?"
Trevor sipped once before answering. "Christian either works with Cardinal Benedict Allen Morton or against him to have Lucas." He put his glass down before continuing. "Christian had contacted Vivienne; she wants Lucas as a test subject for her obsession to become a dominant omega and Christian just wants him."
Lucius’s expression sharpened, all the courtly polish stripped away. "Vivienne? She’s still active?"
Trevor’s gaze didn’t flinch. "Very. She’s the one who introduced the hormone fusion serum into Eastern circulation. Quietly, through clinics she funds on the southern border. Mostly betas and omegas looking for a genetic loophole out of insignificance."
Sirius swore under his breath, pushing his chair back slightly. "And Christian thinks that’s the path to getting Lucas? Aligning with a lunatic who wants to rewrite biological order?"
Trevor didn’t blink. "I think he’s willing to burn down the order to keep Lucas within reach. Or ruin him trying."
"Lucas was almost a ghost," Lucius said darkly. "Only the worst kind of nobles knew about him." He smirked wickedly. "You are already moving; I heard that some important business partners had withdrawn from anything that has the Velloran name on it."
Trevor’s smile curved, faint, like a knife sliding back into velvet. "Coincidences, I’m sure."
Sirius exhaled through his nose, slow and steady, but his eyes were gleaming now, more calculation than concern. "That’s not just retaliation."
"No," Trevor said simply, setting his glass down with care. "It’s a preamble. Christian thinks he can crawl back through pity. Plus..."
"What?" Sirius asked, already reaching for another sip.
Windstone appeared without a sound, as if summoned by the thought, and placed a slim folder on the table between them with a faint bow.
Trevor gave a nod of dismissal, not bothering to look up as Windstone vanished again, the silence swallowing his exit like a well-trained shadow.
He flipped open the folder with two fingers, slow and precise, as if he wasn’t about to show them something that could unravel a name.
Lucius leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
Inside were photographs, dozens of them. Grainy, but clear enough. Hotel rooms, private lounges, and a yacht cabin. All different locations. All similar men.
Same age range as Lucas. Same general build. Pale skin. Green eyes. Each one was caught in various states of disarray, some shirtless, others fully exposed, and several mid-act with Christian’s face unmistakably visible.
Lucius exhaled through his teeth. "He has a type."
Sirius didn’t speak at first. His jaw had gone tight, the line of his mouth thinner than usual. When he did speak, it was quiet. "How recent?"
Trevor flipped to the next photo. Then the next. The timestamps were neat. Documented. Cold.
"Over the last two years," Trevor answered. "He’s been using substitutes. None of them were enough. And all of them..." he tapped the next page, a statement signed in cheap pen, "have a price."
Lucius’s smile was razor-thin now. "So they sold him."
"They sold everything," Trevor corrected, his tone soft but dangerous. "Messages. Gifts. Videos. A few of them tried to play the long game, asking for more. They’re handled."
"Handled how?" Sirius asked.
Trevor gave a lazy shrug. "Discredited. Relocated. Inconvenienced. One had a sudden visa issue in Saha and may or may not be working at a vineyard under a false name."
Lucius looked delighted. "You do take rejection personally."
"I take patterns personally," Trevor said, and this time the softness in his voice disappeared. "He tried to recreate Lucas. Over and over. Pretending to wait for him to be of age... All his paid escorts were the same age as Lucas."
"That damned bastard..."
Lucius didn’t finish the sentence. The venom in his tone said enough.
Sirius leaned back again, but this time his body didn’t relax. His fingers drummed once against the wood, slow and deliberate, as if already timing how long it would take to make someone vanish.
Trevor flipped another page. "This one tried to bleach his hair. Christian asked him to. Same cut as Lucas. Same height. Almost the same voice."
Lucius let out a low whistle, not impressed, furious. "That’s not obsession. That’s predation."
"Obsession would’ve been less pathetic," Trevor murmured, eyes on the folder. "This was replication. Controlled, purchased, and discarded when the illusion cracked."
Sirius’s voice came colder than before. "And yet he’s still in position."
"Not for long." Trevor closed the folder with finality, the sound soft but final, like a casket being sealed. "His allies are thinning. One bishop defected last week. Another..."
"Had a boating accident," Lucius supplied cheerfully.
Trevor’s eyes gleamed with approval. "How tragic."
"Water safety is important," Sirius muttered dryly.
"Especially when you’re bound to concrete shoes," Lucius added.
They all paused.
Then, like a storm pulling just slightly away from shore, the edge softened.
"I can’t decide if I want to see his face when he realizes Lucas is out of reach forever," Lucius said, "or when he realizes he was never close in the first place."
Trevor smiled faintly, with no warmth in it. "You’ll get both. Just be patient."