The Falco estate stood silent beneath the storm.
Rainwater streamed down the towering glass windows while thunder rolled endlessly above the city, low and violent like a warning whispered by God himself. Inside the mansion, every servant moved carefully, quietly, as though the walls themselves were listening.
The front doors opened.
Orion stepped inside.
Water dripped from his black coat onto the marble floor in slow rhythmic taps. His dark hair clung damply to his forehead, his shirt soaked completely through, outlining the hard lines of his body beneath the dim chandelier light.
But something was wrong.
James noticed it instantly.
Orion's steps were slower.
Unsteady.
His breathing sounded uneven beneath the silence.
"Boss—"
"Don't."
The response came automatically.
Cold.
Sharp.
But weak.
Orion barely made it halfway across the hall before gripping the edge of the staircase railing briefly, fingers tightening against the wood.
James frowned immediately.
"You're burning up."
"I'm fine."
"You look half dead."
A humorless smile touched Orion's lips.
"Maybe that's because I am."
James ignored the comment and stepped closer carefully. Orion didn't resist when James removed the soaked overcoat from his shoulders. That alone was alarming enough.
The fabric hit the marble floor heavily.
Rainwater.
Sand.
And faint streaks of blood.
James guided him upstairs without another word.
—
The master bedroom was dim except for the amber glow of the fireplace crackling softly against the storm outside. Orion sat at the edge of the bed while James opened the wardrobe silently.
Usually nobody touched Orion Falco.
Not unless they had a death wish.
Tonight Orion barely reacted as James unbuttoned the drenched black shirt and pulled it from his shoulders.
His skin was burning.
Fever.
Several bruises darkened his ribs, while old scars carved pale lines across his chest and abdomen like ghosts that refused to fade.
James exhaled quietly.
"The sea again?" he asked softly.
Orion leaned back slightly against the headboard, eyes half closed.
"Couldn't hear my thoughts."
"And now?"
A long silence followed.
"Worse."
James changed the bandage wrapped loosely around Orion's bruised knuckles before tossing him a dry black shirt.
Orion didn't put it on immediately.
He simply stared toward the rain outside the windows.
Lost somewhere far away.
James disappeared briefly before returning with medicine and a glass of water.
"Take these."
Orion looked at the pills with visible disgust.
"I survive bullets but die to medicine. Embarrassing."
"You're dramatic when you're sick."
A faint scoff escaped Orion.
Then silence settled again between them.
Heavy.
Familiar.
Finally James spoke carefully.
"...Why didn't you bring her back?"
The room changed instantly.
Orion's eyes lifted slowly.
Dangerously.
James almost regretted asking.
"I mean Elina," he clarified quietly. "You found her. You could've brought her home."
Orion stood abruptly.
The glass shattered against the floor beside the bed.
For one terrifying second James thought the storm had finally broken.
But then—
something worse happened.
Orion grabbed him.
Not violently.
Desperately.
James froze.
Orion's hands clutched the front of his shirt tightly as though he were trying not to drown.
And then suddenly—
he broke.
A harsh breath escaped him.
Then another.
His shoulders trembled once.
James stared in stunned silence as Orion lowered his head against him, fingers shaking violently.
"Oh God…" Orion laughed weakly under his breath, but the sound cracked apart halfway through. "Look at me."
James said nothing.
Because he had never—
not once in all these years—
seen Orion Falco cry.
Not when he was tortured.
Not when he buried men alive.
Not when entire wars turned cities red.
Never.
But now tears slid silently down his face.
Quiet.
Hopeless.
Like a man finally collapsing beneath the weight of his own soul.
"I told him not to touch her," Orion whispered brokenly. "I told him over and over she had nothing to do with it…"
James frowned slightly.
"Lucien?"
Orion laughed again bitterly.
"He wanted to use her." His voice trembled with restrained rage. "Said bloodlines only learn through suffering. Said if I wanted revenge, I should start with the thing he loved most."
The fireplace crackled softly.
Rain hammered against the glass harder.
Orion covered his eyes shakily with one hand.
"And I still stayed."
The confession shattered quietly into the room.
"I should've taken her away years ago." His breathing grew uneven again. "I saw what he was becoming. I saw the way he looked at her after the accusations started… like she wasn't his daughter anymore. Like she was punishment waiting to happen."
James went still.
Orion's voice dropped lower.
"I thought I could control it." A broken smile crossed his lips. "Funny, isn't it? The great Orion Falco."
James gripped his shoulder firmly.
"This isn't your fault."
"Yes it is!" Orion snapped suddenly.
The pain in his voice felt almost unbearable.
"If I had killed Lucien earlier—"
"You would've become a monster sooner."
"I became one anyway."
Silence.
Orion slowly let go of James and staggered backward until the edge of the bed hit behind his knees. He sat down heavily, dragging trembling fingers through his damp hair.
His fever had worsened.
James could see it clearly now.
The exhaustion.
The grief.
The self hatred eating him alive from the inside.
"You need to tell her the truth," James said quietly after a moment. "Everything."
Orion laughed softly.
Empty.
"And say what?" he murmured. "'Hello Elina, your father wanted to sacrifice you to settle a war, but don't worry—I slaughtered everyone first'?"
James stayed silent.
Orion stared toward the fire.
"She already looks at me like I'm death."
"Because she doesn't know."
"No." Orion shook his head slowly. "Because she's right."
James stepped closer again. "Boss—"
"I don't want redemption."
The words came strangely calm.
Almost peaceful.
Orion leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
"I just want this to end."
The fire crackled softly.
Outside, thunder shook the sky.
Then suddenly—
Orion's eyes opened.
Sharp.
Cold.
James noticed it too.
A sound.
Tiny.
Almost invisible beneath the storm.
The faint creak of floorboards outside the bedroom door.
Both men turned toward the darkness instantly.
Silence.
Then—
a shadow moved beneath the gap of the door.