[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction-Chapter 269: Beloved

Chapter 269: Chapter 269: Beloved
They made it halfway to the door.
Which, in this house, meant six meters, three conversations, and a distant promise of freedom that lasted exactly twelve seconds before someone called Elias’s name.
He winced internally, while externally he looked like the very image of a polished researcher and heir used to this type of attention. He turned, smiled politely, and straightened his spine, bracing himself for what he was going to have to endure.
Victor, next to him, made a low sound that was probably a laugh.
"You’re enjoying this," Elias muttered without moving his lips.
"I’m enjoying you," Victor said, entirely too pleased with himself.
A woman from one of the aerospace branches was approaching in a glittering gown, press-pass necklace, and the distinct confidence of someone who thought being in proximity to Victor meant access to Elias too. She started speaking before she was even within formal greeting distance.
Elias took the full brunt of it. A flurry of words, compliments, questions, and networking pitches dressed as pleasantries. Somewhere in there, she congratulated them again on the engagement, asked about future policy initiatives, and tried to loop in a nephew from military logistics.
Victor nodded once. Then did nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Just stood there, hand resting lightly against the small of Elias’s back, watching the interaction like it was a private theater production starring his fiancé and some very hopeful extras.
"I could leave you here," Elias said sweetly between smiles. "Just walk out. Pretend I forgot your name."
Victor leaned in, breath brushing his ear. "You could. But I’d follow."
"Not if I locked the door."
"You’d still have to outrun me."
Elias didn’t look at him. "What makes you think I couldn’t?"
Victor’s voice was all warmth and smugness. "You forget I know exactly how fast you are."
Elias smiled at the woman like nothing in the world was wrong. "I think that’s all the time we have for now. Thank you so much for your interest; please follow up with PR."
The woman beamed, nodded, and disappeared into the crowd.
Victor’s hand was still at his back, his crimson eyes glittering with love and mischief.
"You’re terrifying," Elias said flatly.
"I know," Victor replied. "I’m also free for the next ten minutes. Shall we sprint?"
They didn’t make it even one more step.
This time, it was a pair of suited executives from the domestic energy board and a high-ranking minister’s niece. And then one of Elias’s old professors. And then someone’s child with a camera and too many opinions about their outfit.
It was like the universe had decided to remind Elias that visibility was a prison with very good lighting.
Victor watched it all, radiant and useless.
"Can’t you stop time or something?" Elias asked finally when he saw Ego winking at him.
"No, I can alter it," Victor said, voice calm. "But even that is against the rules."
He said it like the rules hadn’t come from him in the first place. Like he wasn’t the god who burned worlds for violating them. Like he hadn’t personally executed the ones who tried.
Elias gave him a slow side-eye. "You made the rules."
Victor didn’t flinch. "I was younger then. Idealistic."
"You were the God of Destruction."
"I still am," Victor said easily.
"And you wrote divine law into stone with your bare hands," Elias added, each word clipped.
Victor looked unrepentant. "Stone was fashionable back then."
"It was also three thousand degrees and volcanic."
Victor smiled faintly, that ancient, elegant smile that belonged to no era Elias had ever studied. "Exactly. Very dramatic. I was going through something."
Elias stared. "You created the celestial tribunal."
Victor’s tone was almost fond. "I did. Six rings, seven judges, a thousand years of silence per lie. I thought it was poetic."
"You were the executioner, Victor."
"And very good at it," he replied, with the kind of terrible grace only gods carried. "But you should’ve seen me before I had restraint."
Elias took a slow sip of water. "I don’t want to know."
"Well, you will, once you become my soulmate." Victor said with the smirk of a very contemptuous cat. "Also, no one is looking; we can run away now with the excuse that you want air. Ashwin has the helicopter on standby."
Elias took another measured sip of water, mostly to buy time to process the sentence
"once you become my soulmate"
and the casual declaration that a helicopter was waiting.
He didn’t look at Victor. That would only encourage him.
Instead, he glanced around the ballroom, careful and calculated. No one seemed to be watching. The orchestra had softened into something ambient and elegant. A few of the board members were deep in conversation by the marble pillars, and Ego was still holding the party from his velvet-like throne chair.
Victor leaned closer, breath warm against Elias’s ear. "Say the word."
"I’m going to regret this," Elias muttered.
Victor’s smile was audible. "Probably."
And still, Elias set down his glass, smoothed a nonexistent crease from his sleeve, and turned toward the side corridor like a man making an incredibly poor, beautiful decision.
They didn’t run.
Victor walked like gravity moved around him and Elias had been born to survive worse than divine scandal. Together, they passed through the side corridor with the kind of quiet that dared someone to follow.
Outside, the air was cooler, wrapped in night and the low hum of security drones veiled by shadow. A steward spotted them and wisely said nothing. Somewhere above, a distant thrum vibrated the edges of the palace terrace.
"You weren’t joking," Elias said, his tone bone-dry.
Victor looked like sin draped in midnight. "I never joke about helicopters."
The helipad lights flared softly as Ashwin stepped into view, dressed in tailored black and the absolute absence of judgment.
He opened the door like this was a perfectly reasonable exit strategy.
Elias hesitated. "We’re really leaving."
"You’re glowing," Victor said again, as if that explained everything. "And you didn’t stab anyone. You deserve to go home."
Elias didn’t answer right away.
He stepped up into the cabin with Victor following behind him, hand resting lightly against the small of his back as if to say
yes, this is mine,
and n
o, you can’t stop us all at once."
The doors closed. The rotors picked up.
As the palace shrank beneath them, a flicker of gold caught Elias’s eye through the reinforced glass: Ego, still watching from the balcony, one hand raised in something that might’ve been farewell. Or warning.
Elias didn’t wave back.
Victor was already beside him, one leg crossed lazily over the other, posture relaxed and absurdly pleased.
"I want plausible deniability and some ramen when we get home." Elias paused, letting out a long sigh that probably carried the weight of three hours of small talk and five centuries of divine politics and he did just one of them. "And at least a month away from Ego."
Victor didn’t move. Just smiled like he’d been waiting for that exact sentence. "I already told Ashwin to call your favorite place. They’re keeping the broth separate so it doesn’t go soggy."
Elias turned slowly to look at him. "You planned my breakdown."
"I planned your survival," Victor said, completely unrepentant. "Minor difference. Stronger branding, and also no cheap stuff this time."
Elias stared at him, deadpan. "You put ramen on standby."
Victor tilted his head. "You get violent when underfed."
"That happened one time."
"That happened three times and once involved a tablet’s end."
Elias sighed again, dragging a hand through his hair. "I still don’t understand how you’re more dramatic than me and you’re literally a cosmic weapon."
Victor’s crimson eyes gleamed in the low cabin light. "Darling, I am drama. I was forged in it. I destroy empires with narrative arc."
"That explains a lot," Elias muttered, pulling his seatbelt a notch tighter and curling one leg under him. The cabin was warm, the city glittering below, and the sound of rotors was just enough to muffle the weight of everything they’d escaped. "One month," he repeated. "Minimum. No Ego. No cosmic conflicts or new gods. No divine riddles at breakfast."
"No promises," Victor murmured.
Elias cracked an eye open. "Victor."
"I’m your god, not your assistant," Victor said, resting his chin in his hand. "Although I do look fantastic in a uniform."
"I will throw you out of this aircraft."
Victor didn’t flinch. "I’ll survive. The helicopter won’t."
Elias groaned and pressed his face into his hand. "This is the worst relationship in recorded history."
Victor smiled, slow and unbothered. "Incorrect. It’s just the most accelerated."
"We’ve known each other for a year and a half," Elias said, voice thin. "You’re acting like I signed a soul pact in the Bronze Age."
"You will," Victor said. "Metaphysically."
"That doesn’t count."
Victor shrugged, all divine grace and zero shame. "It counts to me."
Elias turned toward the window again. The glass was cool, the city below too vast and too soft around the edges, like the world had blurred on purpose to let him breathe. "This was supposed to be casual."
"You say that every time you fall asleep in my shirts," Victor murmured.
"That’s because your laundry is everywhere."
Victor tilted his head. "That’s because you keep moving into my closet."
"You’re insufferable."
"I’m beloved."