[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction-Chapter 217: Wedding incoming

Ego He set his glass down with a faint click, the sound that rearranged the air in the room without effort. The amusement on his face faded, replaced by something far more serious. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

"Well," he said finally, his tone deceptively calm, "since we’re already discussing legacy, there’s one more matter to settle."

Ruo sighed dramatically. "Here it comes."

Victor’s eyes narrowed a fraction, his casual posture now shifting to that of a man ready to smite someone, and Ego being his father won’t help him if Elias’s safety is involved. "Father."

Ego’s focus shifted from Victor to Elias, and he studied them both with such intensity that the rest of the table fell silent. "You’re expecting a child," he said. "That means there will be a wedding."

Elias blinked. "A what?"

"A wedding," Ego repeated. "A proper one. Not whatever quiet arrangement the two of you think passes for commitment. You’re part of this family now, Elias. That means the world should see it."

Ruo leaned back in her chair, a grin curving her lips. "Ah, the public performance of affection. Classic father move."

"Public?" Elias asked, his voice caught somewhere between disbelief and horror.

Connor chuckled. "He means weaponized."

Ego inclined his head. "Exactly. Numen Corp is the largest organization in the country and the second one on the continent; you can’t expect to be in the family without the vultures eventually noticing you." He leaned back on his chair with the same amusement Victor had when there was something Elias didn’t like. "And I would very much like to attend at least one of my children’s weddings before I die." He said while pinning Samael and Ruo with his unwavering gaze.

Victor’s expression didn’t change, but Elias felt the faint hum of amusement through their bond. It wasn’t helping. "You’re enjoying this," Elias muttered.

"Immensely," Victor murmured back, far too calm.

Ego’s faint smile deepened, sharp and knowing. "Good. At least one of you is taking this well."

Ruo leaned forward, her chin resting on her hand, eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, I’m taking it perfectly. Just... from a safe emotional distance."

Samael snorted while trying his best to not be the next victim of his father’s matchmaking sessions. "You don’t have one."

"Exactly," she said sweetly, raising her glass.

Ego ignored them, his attention fixed entirely on Victor and Elias. "The ceremony will be held at the Numen Manor," he said. "It will be public, strategic, and grand enough that at least two heads of state would fight over invitations. The media will attend, the Board will attend, and every ally and rival this family has will attend. You will make it clear to the world that the Numens are united."

Elias blinked at him, the words hitting like slow-moving bullets. "You’re serious."

"Completely," Ego said. "Do you have any idea what your union represents? You are the living link between the divine and the human world, between power and consequences. That deserves a stage."

Connor leaned forward, smirking. "He means a press release, a televised interview, and a dozen shareholders who’ll turn it into a business campaign."

Ego’s lips curved faintly. "Naturally. Numen Corp thrives on visibility."

Ruo swirled her wine, unbothered. "You realize this means security levels will triple for months. Half the world’s going to want an invitation, and the other half will want to sabotage it."

Samael grinned. "So, business as usual."

Elias let out a breath somewhere between a laugh and a plea for help. "You people are unbelievable."

Victor reached for his glass with perfect calm. "He’s been planning this since before we walked in," he said.

Ego smiled like a man caught and entirely unashamed. "Since before Samael came for you."

Elias turned to Victor, deadpan. "You knew."

"I suspected," Victor admitted.

Ruo’s grin widened. "This is going to be magnificent."

Connor raised a brow, his tone dripping with amusement. "Magnificent? It’s going to be chaos. A divine wedding in the middle of a corporate empire? The stock market’s going to combust."

Ego lifted his glass again, his voice smooth as old whiskey. "Then let it burn brighter. The world needs reminders of who commands its light."

Elias stared at him for a long moment. "You’re terrifying."

"Thank you," Ego said pleasantly. "Now, about the guest list..."

Ruo groaned into her drink. "And so it begins."

Victor leaned toward Elias, his tone quiet, low enough only for him to hear. "If it helps," he murmured, "I find you beautiful when you’re plotting my murder."

Elias didn’t look at him. "Good," he said dryly. "Because after this dinner, I might actually try."

Victor allowed the smugness to sit on his face like an ornament, perfectly placed and impossible to ignore. He toyed with the stem of his glass as if it were a dagger. "I don’t need you to say yes, Elias," he said, voice casually precise. "I only needed you not to say no." He watched Elias through narrowed lids, amused by the tiny spiral of discomfort that crossed the other man’s features. It was, by Victor’s standards, an excellent start.

Elias folded his hands on the table, the muscles at his jaw tightening for a half-breath before he let them ease. "You’re theatrical," he said, and the bluntness of it was meant to be a shield. "This is a wedding, not a coronation. Try to remember the difference between spectacle and..." He stopped because Victor’s smile had gone soft in a way that made the word die where it hung. There was a threat under that smile and Elias, despite himself, felt it like static against his skin.

Victor leaned in a fraction, and there was a familiarity in it that made Elias bristle and lean closer at once. "Soulmate weddings are for poets and fools," Victor murmured, his voice a rumble against the bone of Elias’s ear, though he’d said it aloud to the table. "This one will be for power and for us. Different currencies, same effect." He spoke like a man describing weather he had already predicted, and the certainty in him was almost infuriatingly attractive.

Around them, the conversations dipped and rose like a tide, Ruo’s snark folding into Samael’s dry retorts, Connor’s amused commentary skimming across the surface like a speedboat that left everyone a little wetter than before. Ego watched with the air of a maestro who appreciated the cadence of his players; his fingers tapped once on the table in time with Victor’s plan, and the moment that followed felt very much like a rehearsal for something enormous.

Elias looked at Victor again, and this time he let his gaze search for the man beneath the games: the man who had bent worlds without seeming to strain, who kept his hands steady over things that broke most people. Elias felt the instinct to press it, to find out whether it was real or simply another carefully placed light. Instead he said, dry and guarded, "You make everything sound inevitable. Do you ever let anyone refuse?"

Victor’s reply came with a laugh that was more satisfied than cruel. "I let them try," he said. "Most people find refusal uncomfortable. You, however, are delightfully stubborn. I enjoy a challenge." For a beat he was unabashedly honest, enjoyment lighting his features, and something like warmth melted the edge off the smugness. Elias, who had spent years learning how to read sharp things, felt the shift and hated the way it unsettled him.

"You enjoy tormenting your future husband," Elias said, tone flat, but his mouth twitched despite him. The words were both accusation and compliment, and Victor accepted them as if they had been tenderly handed over.

"I enjoy testing the shape of things," Victor corrected gently. "Seeing what fractures, what flexes, what settles into a better angle. You were never meant to be a quiet form, Elias. You were always going to be a problem worth solving." He reached, impossibly casual, and brushed a thumb once along the back of Elias’s hand where it rested on the table. The contact was electric enough to send a small, private alarm through Elias that felt suspiciously like relief.

Elias swallowed. "You phrase threats like promises," he said, and it came out softer than he intended. He tried to shuffle the weight of it away with a laugh that sounded too brittle. "And congratulations on the plan to bankrupt half the continent’s social calendar. I’ll start compiling a list of people I will murder in a neat spreadsheet."

Victor’s smile turned fond, fond in the way that implied dangerous devotion. "I shall expect a properly formatted spreadsheet, then." He pushed himself back, eyes flicking to Ego and the others with the briefest shadow of apology for the chaos he’d chosen to stir. "But know this: whatever stage they set, it will be ours. And I will defend that stage with a ferocity that looks a lot like vanity and a little like love." He said the last word like a confession.