Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)
Chapter 149 - 144: The new Empress (2)

Chapter 149: Chapter 144: The new Empress (2)

The city lights blurred past the car windows, cool streaks of white and gold and flickering arcane signage. But Elliot didn’t see any of it.

He was trying to find out if George had somehow escaped from his grasp, but the ether flow told him that nothing changed. Still, there was a moment in the Conference Hall that he was cut off from him. He had to be sure that his father was still following Hadeon’s orders.

The Etherlux’s leather interior felt too soft, the silence too loud. He sat stiffly in the back seat, barely noticing the hum of the ether core beneath the chassis. The sleek, dark car was a gift from George, a symbol of status, favor, and access. And Elliot still believed he held that favor. It was his birthright.

The interaction between him and Gabriel left a bitter taste in his mouth; it would have been easier to separate him from Max, but now all the nobles were discussing the new Empress to be. It was only natural for him to be there, as both his family and the Emperor were gaining power through this union.

’Still mine.’ Hadeon promised him everything he wanted in exchange for keeping George under control, including Gabriel. He was the perfect match for him, a true noble and a dominant omega.

The manor loomed with serene confidence, grand and timeless. Inside, the scent of old wood, smoke, and faint ether polish wrapped around him like a silken cloak. No one dared question his stride or presence. The staff lowered their eyes as he passed. The house will be his too. The moment was his.

He entered the study without knocking.

George sat behind his desk, backlit by the dying fire, casting deep shadows across the angles of his face. He was still in his formal jacket, sleeves rolled once with deliberate precision. A glass of something dark and expensive rested near his fingers, untouched.

"You left the palace without a word," Elliot said.

George didn’t look up. "Apparently, I do that now."

Elliot smiled and crossed the room at a relaxed pace, the click of his boots a deliberate rhythm. He let silence stretch between them like a taut string, waiting for George to flinch or snap. He didn’t.

But that didn’t matter. Elliot felt it. The magic was still flowing beneath George’s skin. Not completely whole, but close enough. ’Still obedient. Still mine.’

"You’re angry," Elliot offered, voice silk-wrapped steel. "But I know you, George. You’re just recalibrating. Adjusting to the shift. It happens. But I’m here to keep things aligned."

George didn’t speak, just watched him like one might watch fog creep back into a familiar room.

Elliot leaned on the edge of the desk, careful not to crowd him, but close enough to imply intimacy. His voice softened into something smooth and confidential.

"We’re close now," he said. "Once the Ministry clears the project, you’ll be untouchable again. And Hadeon... he’ll be satisfied. Especially once he hears that you’re still loyal." A pause. "That you’re still his."

George’s fingers twitched once near the base of the glass. Elliot missed it or ignored it.

He continued, more pleased with himself now.

"Of course, he doesn’t know everything. I keep things from him. To protect you." He watched George’s face, studying it. "I’ve done more than you realize."

George’s jaw tensed slightly.

That was when Elliot smiled wider. He couldn’t help himself.

"You think Callahan is in Hadeon’s hands," he said, low and conspiratorial. "That he’s being kept in some dark holding cell far from here."

George’s stillness sharpened.

Elliot leaned forward, just slightly, his breath catching the edge of the firelight.

"But he’s not."

A single beat of silence.

George’s stare didn’t change, but something behind it shifted.

Elliot saw it and mistook it for surprise. For confusion. For weakness.

"I moved him," Elliot said softly. "A few weeks ago. Too risky to leave him with Hadeon; too many variables. Too many eyes. So I brought him somewhere... safer."

He stepped away from the desk now, hands clasped behind his back like a man revealing a masterstroke.

"He’s in the western wing of the manor. Two floors down. Surrounded by private wards I commissioned myself. Only three staff members have access. And none of them know who he really is."

He turned back toward George, who hadn’t moved. "You see? I’m protecting you. I’ve been protecting you this whole time."

George blinked slowly. The faintest flicker of movement behind his eyes. His grip on the glass was so precise, it would take a trained eye to see that his fingers were pressing hard enough to crack the stem.

Elliot misread the silence.

"That’s why you need me, George," he said softly. "Because while you were drowning under that spell, I was keeping everything intact. You. The company. Him."

He stepped closer again, his smile now practically glowing. "And you still trust me. Even now."

George looked up finally, green eyes cool and unreadable.

"Yes," he said, the word smooth as satin. "I do."

And Elliot believed him.

Because George smiled next.

A perfect, hollow smile.

The kind Gabriel and Max both recognized in war rooms. The kind that appeared moments before negotiations turned into executions.

But Elliot? He saw only what he wanted to see.

Reassurance, Agreement. Control.

"I’ll inform Hadeon that all is well," Elliot said lightly. "That the heir of Claymore is still exactly where he should be."

He turned to leave, already intoxicated by his own victory.

George’s voice followed him.

"Elliot."

He stopped, halfway through the door, pleased by the use of his name.

"Yes?"

George’s voice was barely more than a breath. "Thank you... for keeping him safe."

Elliot smiled. "Of course."

And then he was gone.

George sat in silence for a long moment. The fire crackled, its warmth doing nothing for the ice forming at the base of his spine.

Callahan. Here.

Every instinct screamed at him to run, to fight, to burn this place down and reclaim what had been stolen from him.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not yet. He was relieved that Elliot was an idiot, so he simplified his plans.

He slowly lifted the glass and drank every last drop, eyes closed, memorizing the room like a battlefield.

One more act. Few more days. And then?

The leash would snap in the other direction.