Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 345 - 339: Supervised

"We found one," he said, his voice flat, low, and lethal. His eyes didn’t move from Alexander’s. "He didn’t get far."

Alexander straightened from his desk, the red folder closing beneath his hand like a seal placed on a sentence. Irina, who’d just seconds before been mid-eye roll, went still, her breath catching the way it did when the tone in the room changed.

"Inside the palace?" Alexander asked.

Leslie nodded once. "Gregoris cracked one of the kitchen runners. The second was a decoy; this one stayed behind. He knew the layout. The guards. The shift overlaps." His fists clenched, leather gloves creaking. "He was waiting for a second attempt. He would’ve tried again tonight."

Edward appeared behind him then, not drenched, not winded, not anything but pristine, as if the storm outside had parted just for him. His coat was immaculate, not a hair out of place, but his eyes were cold. That rare, dangerous kind of cold that only surfaced when he was truly displeased.

"The antidote is working," he said, his voice the kind of calm that warned of a reckoning. "His Majesty will wake in a few hours." A pause, deliberate. "And when he does, I would very much like us to be able to name the one who brewed the poison."

Alexander’s gaze sharpened. "Then let’s not keep him waiting."

—

The first thing Damian registered was the scent, faint lavender, and heat, sharper now, tinged with something iron beneath. Not his own blood, not anymore. Memory caught up fast enough: the burning in his chest, the way Marin’s voice had gone quiet, and the look in Gabriel’s eyes when he realized how bad the situation actually was.

He blinked once, vision sharpening on the familiar ceiling above their bed, and turned his head just enough to see Gabriel seated at the edge of the chaise. The tablet in his hand cast a pale glow across his face, still dressed in the same sharp, ink-dark clothes from hours ago. His hair was slightly tousled, his posture deceptively poised, shoulders straight, legs crossed with infuriating elegance, but his grip on the device was just a little too tight, knuckles drawn pale. Damian’s fingers were still wrapped around Gabriel’s other hand, exactly as they had been when the antidote dragged him under. Neither of them had let go.

Gabriel didn’t look up when he spoke.

"They found one. Leslie caught the kitchen runner before he made it to the south wing."

Damian exhaled, slow and controlled, though his breath caught faintly at the end, his voice still raw from the purge.

"So Leslie and Max got back without my order?"

That made Gabriel finally lift his gaze, the tablet lowering just an inch, his eyes narrowing with a fire that had simmered too long.

"This is what you’re worried about?" he asked, each word clipped, the edge in his tone cold enough to cut. "Not the fact that you almost died in front of me? Not the implication that someone walked into your wing and poured death into your cup? Not the reality that your men—your Shadows, your guard, your brother—are ready to tear the Empire apart to avenge you, and I had to be the one to tell them to hold back?"

Damian held his gaze, the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes dulled now by exhaustion.

"You did a good job then. Now," he muttered, releasing Gabriel’s hand and pushing himself upright, the sheets rustling as he rose from the bed. His bare feet touched the floor with a thud that sounded more determined than stable, and he swayed, just slightly, but caught himself before Gabriel could move. "Let’s get the rat."

Gabriel didn’t even blink.

"You’re not going anywhere outside these quarters," he said, still seated, tone sharp enough to cut marble. "At best, you get a bath. And even that is under supervision."

Damian turned to him, incredulous. "Supervision?"

"Yes. Because I know you," Gabriel said, already moving toward the bath, voice cool and effortless. "You’ll pretend to soak and then teleport the moment I’m ten feet away from you."

"...That does sound like something I’d do," Damian admitted. Then grinned. "Can I take you with me, at least?"

Gabriel didn’t even blink. "No."

Damian’s grin widened, unrepentant. "Heartless."

"I’m restraining myself from sedating you."

"Fine, I will do as you say." Damian approached Gabriel; he was indeed still sick, but his tall frame dominated that of Gabriel easily. "If you, too, remain here."

Gabriel didn’t answer immediately. His eyes flicked up, meeting Damian’s with that sharp steadiness he never dulled for anyone, not even him. Especially not him.

"I’ve been here since you collapsed," he said, voice low, quiet but firm. "Where exactly do you think I’d go?"

Damian’s expression shifted, the grin softening at the edges, folding into something older, wearier. "You think I don’t know how you work?" he murmured. "You’ve already read through half the palace logs, you’ve updated the Shadows, and I’d bet my crown you’ve cross-checked servant rotations twice."

"Three times," Gabriel replied without hesitation.

"Exactly." Damian stepped close enough that their bodies almost touched, his voice dropping. "And yet... you think staying with me means not moving."

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. "Why?"

"Don’t stain your hands with blood while pregnant; after, you can do whatever you want."

"Liar."

Damian didn’t deny it.

He only smiled faintly, that infuriating, devastating sort of smile that always came when he knew Gabriel saw right through him.

"I’m trying," he said instead, voice barely above a whisper. "And that’s already more than I would’ve done for anyone else."

Gabriel’s eyes didn’t soften, but his fingers did, loosening slightly where they were still curled at his side.

"You were poisoned because of me," he said, the words hollow in his mouth, too calm to be safe.

Damian laughed, slowly, dangerously, the kind of sound he usually made right before ordering an execution, not loud but edged like a blade drawn against someone’s throat. "This is what you think of? That it’s your fault?" His golden eyes burned, tired but cutting. "Sorry to disappoint, but I’d bet the weight of the crown that it was Hadeon."

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