Davis couldn't really focus on the book Helios had given him earlier. It was a textbook about insects – a subject that would usually interest him, but not today. When Helios had handed him the book, his face had been bright red, and he clearly hadn't really thought about which book he was giving him. At that moment, he had been far too nervous and embarrassed.
Davis didn't have anything against nonfiction. Under different circumstances, at another time, he would probably have eagerly immersed himself in any topic. But now, it was different. It almost didn't matter what book Helios had given him – his thoughts were everywhere, except on the insects. Not after what had almost happened between them. The memory of that moment made him involuntarily smile. He had almost wanted to devour Helios right then and there. Just thinking about how nervous Helios had been made him grin.
With a deep sigh, he finally put the book aside. It was pointless to keep staring at the same page. When he set the book down, he had already forgotten which insect he had been looking at before. Normally, he would have absorbed everything Helios had given him with great interest. After all, Helios was incredibly smart, and Davis really wanted to show him that he, too, had more to offer than just being the charming guard. Even though he would never match the young pharmacist's IQ, that wasn't his goal. He wanted to understand what Helios did every day in the lab, wanted to know what moved him and what was currently on his mind.
Because apart from his work, Helios didn't have much time for anything else. And only in the rare moments when they could be alone together did they have the opportunity to really talk. Unfortunately, deep conversations rarely happened. Usually, his lover demanded all his attention until they were both utterly exhausted, lying next to each other. And Davis was always willing to give everything to satisfy him.
It was hard to deny that he often thought about devouring Helios, body and soul. He loved touching him, feeling him, exploring every fiber of his body. He loved every inch of him, inside and out. Helios was slender and had a rather delicate build, but despite his small appetite, he was luckily not anorexic. Sure, there might have been a spot or two that could have used a little more flesh. Maybe a bit more on his hips – but above all, Davis loved Helios just the way he was.
Despite their often limited time together, Davis cherished every single minute with him. Their relationship was still fresh, only a few months old, but for him it felt as if they had been together for a lifetime. There was no place he'd rather be than by his side.
Even though every day at his side could mean death.
With a soft groan, he stood up and stretched his tired limbs. The wounds he had sustained during the last incident still ached. Especially the deep stab wound in his thigh. He longed to move again, to train, maybe even, if he was honest, to enjoy something more intimate. If it hadn't been for that damn party Helios had been forced into, this evening would have turned out differently.
Although Helios had prescribed bed rest, Davis felt more than ready to become active again. With a small grin, he put on a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt. He paused for a moment, considering: Should he perhaps wear something that emphasized his upper body more? After all, Helios loved to trace his slender fingers over his muscles. But before he could take off the shirt again, he stopped. As much as he longed for Helios' closeness... he really did look exhausted.
Maybe it was better to wait a little longer.
Thomas had done a great job making him look more awake and healthier with his makeup, but something was off with Helios. He seemed weak, less sarcastic than usual, and the way he moved felt somehow unfamiliar. It wasn't what Davis was used to. He decided to leave the loose shirt on and focus on Helios' needs later, rather than actively trying to seduce him.
As long as they spent time together, he was content.
Davis glanced at the clock and realized it was already past 9 p.m. Maybe he should grab a small snack from the kitchen so that Helios ate something before they went to bed. It wasn't a big deal, but he wanted to make sure that Helios was getting enough to eat. If things went badly, he might barely have time to eat at the party. Davis sincerely hoped that Helios was just stressed because of his current project. It was a demanding time for him, and Davis knew that. Still, it was worrying how he was skipping meals—especially considering how much Helios could really use the calories.
Hopefully, he won't get sick, Davis thought.
Helios was amazing at taking care of others, but he was a terrible patient. Even with pneumonia, he had managed to drag himself to the lab. He called doctors "quacks," and no one seemed good enough to treat him.
If he did get sick, Davis and Thomas would make sure to take care of him, especially making sure he stayed in bed.
He took one of his painkillers and headed to the kitchen. Every step on his right leg made the stitches twinge—nothing too painful, but it was damn uncomfortable. The strain wasn't fully healed, but he could tell it felt progressively better than it had just a few days ago. It was progress, even though it wasn't happening fast enough.
His thoughts wandered back to Helios and the potential challenges the evening might bring. If Helios really had to spend the evening with Evangeline Eckhardt again, he would have a long and exhausting night ahead. Davis knew her well from several parties, and she seemed to cling to Helios. She always wanted to be near him and often crossed boundaries that she probably shouldn't have. It wasn't that Davis was jealous—not exactly—but he didn't like it when someone shamelessly tried to make advances on his lover, especially when it was someone Helios didn't even like.
He sighed quietly. Hopefully, Evangeline would at least leave him alone for a bit. On the other hand, he also knew that Helios would probably come home earlier if she started annoying him. In that case, he would benefit from it. A smile spread across his face. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she behaved like usual. After all, he would get more time with Helios, and Vale himself would most likely be busy with his own companions again.
He felt a little relieved thinking that at least Dante was with Helios today. That gave him a certain sense of security that his lover would return home safe and sound. Even though he had to admit that he still had a strange feeling when Helios left the house without him.
"Davis?" Thomas' voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
Davis looked up and noticed that Thomas was actually standing in front of him, holding a candle that faintly illuminated the dark. Davis couldn't help but smile as he looked at the old man.
"I thought you had a date with your book tonight," Davis said with amusement.
Thomas laughed softly. "Well, it's exciting, but I still have so many pages left, so I thought I'd make myself some tea."
"So you're on your way to the kitchen?" Davis asked, stepping toward him. "Let's go together. I was going to grab a little snack."
"Exactly," Thomas said with a smile, giving Davis a thoughtful glance. "You look better. How are you feeling?"
Davis shrugged. "Helios' painkillers are really good. I barely feel the wounds."
Together, they continued their way to the kitchen, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly through the hallway.
"I'm glad you took the time to rest and heal," Thomas said after a brief pause, his voice becoming more serious. "You tend to make impulsive decisions, especially when it comes to Helios."
Davis looked at him, surprised.
Thomas nodded calmly. "When it comes to Helios, you often make hasty decisions. I know he means a lot to you, and he saved your sister, but you shouldn't return to your duties while injured. There are enough guards in the estate who can protect him.", he explained.
Davis slowly exhaled, trying to release the tension in his shoulders. "You know exactly how many don't survive their first month here, right?"
Thomas stopped and gently placed his hand on Davis' shoulder. "I just want you to take care of yourself if you want to keep protecting Helios," he said, looking him firmly in the eyes. "Besides, Dante seems to be quite capable as well. I'm pretty sure you can relax a little. He won't let anything happen to the young master."
"I'm still worried," Davis replied quietly, clenching his fists. "I've been by his side nearly every day for over a year. If I'm not watching over him, I'm constantly worried that something might happen to him." He gritted his teeth, trying to control himself. He didn't want to accidentally reveal too much of his feelings. After all, their relationship was a secret.
Thomas nodded understandingly. "I know he's important to you, Davis. I also enjoy serving him—though my job, unlike yours, is much safer," he said with a slight smile. "But promise me at least that you'll take some time to fully recover. Dante will look after him in the meantime. There certainly won't be another attack on Helios…"
But Thomas didn't get any further. Just as they had reached the last steps of the staircase leading to the foyer, the front door slammed open with a huge bang. Vale stormed in, his voice echoing through the foyer as he shouted orders. Behind him, several guards hurried into the building, closely followed by Dante, who seemed to be carrying someone.
Davis' gaze narrowed. It was dark in the foyer only a few candles lit the darkness, and he couldn't quite make out what was happening. The men were running so quickly toward the kitchen that he hadn't been able to see whom Dante was carrying. A cold feeling twisted in his stomach, and his insides tightened with a dark premonition. The thought that something had gone seriously wrong suddenly became very real. But he quickly pushed it aside, trying to focus on the moment.
At that instant, Penelope entered, followed closely by two men who impatiently ushered her behind the others. Davis stared after her in confusion. What the hell was Penelope doing here?
No one paid attention to him or Thomas. The sight of the hastily moving men and the tense atmosphere made Davis' heart race. Something had definitely happened, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with Helios. Because Helios hadn't come into the building with his usual easygoing steps. And Vale would never react like this if only a guard had been injured. This pointed to something much bigger—and worse.
In an instant, Davis became uncertain if he really wanted to know what had happened. But he knew he couldn't ignore it. What if it was something he didn't know? Something he couldn't bear?
"Thomas, please tell me that what I think happened hasn't happened…" Davis said with a trembling voice, barely able to conceal the panic rising within him. The words sent a cold shiver down his spine, and he knew he was bracing himself for an answer that might change him forever.
Thomas was silent for a moment before he let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh. "I... I think we should check. Maybe they need help." His voice shook just as much as Davis' did, which sent another shock through him. Thomas, who usually remained calm, was clearly just as shaken as he was.
Together, they hurriedly followed the others into the kitchen. The heavy, metallic scent of blood hit Davis immediately as he reached the kitchen door. A dizzying sensation overwhelmed him as the smell filled his senses.
He couldn't help but believe that his wounds had become infected and that he might be experiencing a fevered dream. There was no other way to explain what was happening in front of him.
Dante was in the process of laying a slim, blood-soaked person onto the table. Davis' heart sank as he looked more closely at the figure. A disgusting feeling of nausea rose within him as the horrible truth gripped his mind, crashing down on him with the force of a sledgehammer.
It was Helios.
His lover lay there, on the kitchen table. Unconscious. Bleeding. The sight of Helios, so pale that he almost blended into the white tablecloth beneath him, made Davis feel like he was suffocating. The lump in his throat was almost unbearable. His legs suddenly felt weak, as though they were no longer able to support him, and he fought desperately to remain standing. An inner scream wanted to break free, but he forced himself to stay calm. He couldn't break down. Not yet.
How could this have happened? Why was Helios lying there, where just a few days ago he had been tending to Davis' wounds? This sight was so wrong. So damn wrong.
"Good God..." Thomas whispered, covering his mouth in shock. Davis could only agree with him, though he found no words to grasp the horrific reality before him.
A doctor, clearly called here by Penelope, began to cut away Helios' clothes. The pressure bandage around his slim waist became visible. His pale skin, usually only illuminated by the light of the lab, was now completely drenched in bright red. Helios didn't respond to what was happening.
The doctor's assistant injected something into Helios and hooked him up to an IV. He then checked his breathing, pupils, and blood pressure while the doctor gave him the necessary instructions. Concerned, the assistant glanced at the doctor. "Sir, we should begin the operation immediately."
"When was he shot?" the doctor asked, his voice firm but tense.
"I think it was about three-quarters of an hour ago, maybe an hour," Dante answered, tired.
The doctor nodded briefly, offering no comfort. He hastily washed his hands, disinfected them carefully, and then put on gloves. Meanwhile, the assistant prepared everything needed to operate on Helios right there, on the damned kitchen table.
"Why isn't he being operated on in the hospital?" Thomas asked quietly.
Whatever the reason was, he could easily imagine that Vale had not made a decision that would harm his son. Perhaps the hospital simply wasn't safe enough in this case, maybe even too public.
"We're starting now. I need quiet, and above all, I need space," the doctor said, his voice unmistakable. He looked to his assistant. "Conner, cut the bandage and disinfect the wound." The doctor was focused, his actions precise, but Davis couldn't help feeling that every step taken now was a matter of life and death.
Davis' eyes burned as he tried to comprehend what was happening in front of him. But the sight of Helios on this table, vulnerable and helpless, made all his control slip away. The thought that he might be losing the person he loved more than anything was unbearable.
Conner, the doctor's assistant, nodded and immediately set to work unwrapping the pressure bandage. Blood poured from the wound, and with practiced hands, he disinfected Helios' abdomen as the doctor prepared his scalpel. The atmosphere was heavy, oppressive. The smell of blood and antiseptic mingled in the air, making Davis' stomach tighten.
Penelope staggered, her face as pale as paper, as she hesitantly approached Thomas and Davis. Her eyes were wide, and the sorrow in her gaze was evident.
"I can't do this," she murmured softly, almost like a whisper. "I can't watch him being sliced open like a damn Christmas goose."
Thomas immediately responded. "Come, you should take a bath and change into something fresh," he said gently, placing a reassuring hand on her arm, even though he himself was trembling.
"Thomas…" Penelope said quietly, as if only now truly noticing him. Her gaze shifted to Davis, and in that moment, tears began to fall down her cheeks. Her eyes reflected a mixture of despair and disbelief, as though she couldn't grasp the reality of what was happening. Wordlessly, she followed Thomas, who carefully guided her away.
Davis kept his gaze fixed on Helios, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. He watched as the doctor made a precise incision, opening Helios' abdomen and searching for internal injuries. The bloody stack of compresses continued to grow as the doctor skillfully sutured the internal wounds.
It was as if he were paralyzed—he couldn't look away, yet at the same time, he couldn't bear to look too closely. Each cut the doctor made seemed to numb him further, but with each movement of the doctor's hands, hope flickered that Helios might survive.
Vale paced restlessly, his forehead furrowed with worry. The doctor worked with concentrated focus, but the tension in the air was palpable. Vale's voice broke through the focused silence.
"How is it?" he asked in a trembling voice, his pallor so striking it almost seemed like he would break down himself.
The doctor initially didn't respond, focusing instead on his work. Finally, he spoke in a calm tone: "The stomach and spleen have been hit. I can't say more until I've stitched them up. He doesn't seem to have eaten much, at least nothing has leaked from the stomach."
Vale collapsed wearily into a chair, his gaze empty. He buried his face in his hands, and for a moment, he was simply a father, helpless in this dreadful situation. "I don't think I've ever been so relieved that Helios hasn't eaten much," he murmured, almost in disbelief.
"He'll probably make it, Mr. Vale," the doctor said firmly, trying to reassure him. "His biggest issue is blood loss. I have two blood bags here, but we'll need more."
"I have the same blood type as he does. You can take mine when you're done," Vale replied without hesitation, his voice firm and determined. He turned to his guards. "You may leave."
"It's also not impossible that he's carrying an infection," the doctor said calmly, as if it were a minor detail to be addressed.
"Of course," Vale answered.
He looked at Dante, and a pained expression appeared on his face. "Go wash up and take care of that damned knife. Once this is over, we'll talk. Until then, carry on with your duties as usual. Sergeant Davis can help you with the wound care."
Davis flinched and tore his gaze away from Helios. These words hung in the air, as if their meaning was slowly sinking into him. Vale shot Dante a cold look. The situation was beginning to sink into Davis' awareness. Dante had been with Helios when he was shot. The thought made Davis' heart stop.
Dante could have protected Helios.
Anger surged within him, an unstoppable wave. How could he have been so blind? He had trusted Dante, and now Helios lay here, severely injured, while Dante, who should have protected him, seemed indifferent.
"Yes, Sir," Dante said in a firm voice.
"Sergeant Davis, when you're finished, please return," Vale said with a look that softened slightly. "I don't want him spending the night on the kitchen table. Please bring him to his bed later."
"Yes, Sir," Davis replied briefly.
Dante turned to him. A knife was lodged in his shoulder, and he held his arm for support. He looked worn out, blood-soaked, and his expression was… guilty. The weight of responsibility and failure pressed heavily on him, and when their eyes met, he looked away as if he could no longer bear the pain he had caused.
Davis clenched his fist and fought against the urge to break Dante's nose right then and there. The anger building inside him was almost too much to bear. He felt his throat tighten as he tried to maintain control. For a moment, he felt as if he was going to explode. But with a deep breath, he tried to swallow down the overwhelming emotions. He cast one last glance at Helios, still lying motionless on the table, before turning silently away.
Dante followed him, and Davis could hear the heavy footsteps behind him. Together, they walked to the room where the bandages and supplies were stored. Davis glanced briefly over his shoulder. Dante stood in the doorway, his gaze lowered, the pain in his eyes unmistakable.
"Where are you injured? Aside from the knife." Davis asked, trying to keep his tone calm. He reached for a roll of bandages and gripped it harder than he intended.
"Left chest, and a shot grazed my right upper arm," Dante listed softly, his voice hollow and tortured. "Davis, it…"
Davis' patience snapped. Without warning, he spun around and pressed Dante against the wall with his forearm, forcing him into an uncomfortable position. Dante didn't fight back. He just stood there, a look in his eyes that seemed to pierce through Davis' fury.
"How did this happen?!" Davis yelled at him, the rage bursting out as if he had been holding it in for years. "How could he get so badly hurt when you were there to protect him, damn it!"
"Davis, I…" Dante choked out, his voice strained.
Davis increased the pressure with his forearm, though he didn't press hard enough to strangle him. But it was more than enough to trap Dante in a position where he couldn't move without causing himself pain. Davis' arm trembled as he fought to control himself.
"He could be dead!" Davis shouted, his voice breaking. The words hurt as he spoke them, and he felt his eyes burn. The thought of losing his lover on that kitchen table sent a cold pain coursing through his body.
He released Dante and staggered back. Then he grabbed the nearest object—a glass bottle—and threw it with all his strength against the wall. The crash was loud, and the sound of the glass shattering echoed through the room. The sharp scent of disinfectant filled his nostrils, and instead of calming him, it only intensified the emptiness that now overwhelmed him. It hadn't helped him feel better—quite the opposite.
"Damn it," he murmured quietly as he leaned against the wall. He never lost control. But he couldn't hold back anymore. The sight of Helios on the kitchen table, in such a devastated state, shattered all of his composure. If only he had been there… If only he had been nearby, could he have stopped this? Could he have done something? Or would he have just been in the way with his own injuries?
Davis didn't know how he should feel. A swirling storm of emotions raged inside him. He felt ashamed of his outburst, which had completely gotten out of hand. At the same time, he was still angry—at Dante, at himself—and he was so afraid for Helios. The worry that the doctor might be wrong wouldn't leave him. There was the image of Helios, drenched in blood and completely pale—more blood than he could have ever imagined could fit into his slender body.
He didn't even know exactly what had happened. Penelope had also looked incredibly shaken. She didn't seem to be injured, but her dress was torn, and she wasn't wearing any shoes. Her feet were covered in blood, as if she had walked through glass or shards.
Maybe he was truly wrong about Dante. Maybe he had really done his best. Besides, Helios' second guard was nowhere to be seen, which didn't help clarify the situation.
Had Helios survived only because of Dante? Probably. Objectively, it was probably only because of Dante that Helios was even alive.
"I'm sorry," Dante said quietly.
He kneeled next to Davis and began helping him pick up the shards. Every time he moved his injured arm, he sharply inhaled, emphasizing the pain. Davis exhaled slowly.
"You're injured," Davis said in a subdued voice. "This is my fault. Let me handle this…" He sighed quietly. "I'm sorry for freaking out."
"I would have reacted the same way in your position," Dante answered calmly. "Don't blame yourself. Besides, it was really a damn close call."
"I... would you tell me what happened?" Davis asked quietly, still a little tense.
"After you pulled the knife out of me?"
"Of course."
After disposing of the shards, Davis grabbed everything he needed to tend to Dante's wounds.
Together, they walked to Dante's room, where Davis immediately began treating his injuries. To his surprise, most of the wounds were superficial, though still painful. He cut off Dante's shirt and looked at the wound on his chest muscle. The bleeding was minimal and had already stopped. It was more of a puncture wound, as if he had been impaled by something sharp. Maybe a bullet, but it was too small to say for sure. Still, it didn't seem dangerous. The wound had already crusted over.
"I'm pulling the knife out now," Davis said, without question, without hesitation. Before Dante could even react, he yanked the knife from his shoulder with a sharp motion.
Dante let out a short cry of pain and then hissed as he sucked in air. "Damn..." he cursed, clenching his fists.
Even if Davis had wanted to, he couldn't have removed the knife any more gently. However, he couldn't completely deny that it gave him a small sense of satisfaction to see Dante suffer just a little bit. Especially after seeing Helios' condition.
"This needs to be stitched," Davis said, narrowing his eyes.
"Just put the bandage on so the edges of the wound meet," Dante said lightly.
"If I don't stitch it properly, your muscle might not heal right," Davis said, giving Dante an incredulous look.
"It'll heal fine," Dante replied.
Davis disinfected the wound and gently flushed it out, his movements quick and precise.
"If you don't trust me, feel free to say so," Davis finally said, as he carefully worked on the wound. "I'm not a doctor, but I've treated enough stab wounds to know what I'm doing."
"Then just stitch the skin together," Dante sighed. "It'll do more damage if you poke around at the muscles."
Davis looked at him for a moment, the determined expression on Dante's face making him pause. It seemed pointless to continue arguing with him. Finally, he relented and began stitching the edges of the wound together. But as he worked, the question that had been nagging at him wouldn't leave his mind.
"So, what happened? Why was he shot?" Davis asked finally, his voice softer but still filled with concern.
Dante sighed and leaned back. "Let me start from the beginning," he said, his eyes drifting to the past as he began to recount the incident piece by piece.