[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction-Chapter 274: Call Me Back, Love

Chapter 274: Chapter 274: Call Me Back, Love
The obsidian door closed behind Victor with a soft, smooth thud that sounded more like the closing of a tomb than a room. The hallway outside was quiet and dim, lit only by the recessed strip lights that reflected faintly against the polished stone. The silence tasted clean after the howling echoes inside.
Victor inhaled once, slowly, and the red ether that still clung to his coat and sleeves evaporated like steam.
"Robert."
His voice was back to its usual cool timbre.
Robert stepped out from the adjacent corridor, immaculate in his suit, expression blank in that way only someone who had seen the aftermath of gods could achieve. He bowed his head slightly, waiting for the orders.
"Yes, sir."
Victor didn’t bother looking back at the door.
"He’s not dead yet. Keep him that way." A pause. "Clean the room. I don’t want the scent of his fear near the elevators."
Robert didn’t flinch. "Of course, sir."
"And Robert," Victor added, adjusting his cuffs with casual precision, "if he tries to crawl away, put him back."
"Yes, sir."
Victor was already walking down the corridor, shoes whispering across stone, open coat trailing behind him.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Elias.
Even before checking the name, his entire expression softened. The edges of his mouth eased; the power coiled under his skin stilled.
He didn’t answer.
He stopped walking, leaned lightly against the wall, and called back instead.
Two rings.
"Victor?" Elias’s voice was warm, a little breathless, like he’d been pacing. "You didn’t pick up."
"I was busy, sweetheart," Victor murmured, his tone shifting into that low, indulgent rhythm he used only with Elias. "You know I always come back to you."
Elias exhaled sharply, as if the reassurance hit an old bruise. "Good. Because... I found something."
Victor straightened slightly. "Tell me."
"It’s Clarke Industries," Elias said. "Someone’s moving money through accounts tied to the research division. This is not Jonathan’s work, but rather something newer. Someone’s manipulating things from the inside."
Victor closed his eyes, his smile faint and dangerous.
"I know."
A quiet beat.
Elias’s voice sharpened. "And you weren’t planning to tell me?"
"You sounded tired today," Victor replied smoothly. "I didn’t want to add another weight. Your father’s estate, your inheritance, the... meeting with Ego. You’ve had enough."
"That’s not..." Elias stopped himself, then let out a slow breath. "Victor, don’t shield me. Not from my own company."
Victor’s heart did something traitorous.
"I wasn’t shielding you," he said gently. "I was waiting to see if you wanted first rights."
"...First rights?"
"Oh yes." Victor pushed off the wall, strolling toward the elevator with renewed calm. "Do you want to handle them yourself?"
Elias went silent, waiting for whatever incredulous thing his mate would tell him.
"Or," Victor continued softly, "would you like to let me do it? Because frankly, my love... I could use the exercise."
There was a faint rustle on Elias’s end, papers shifting, maybe, or Elias running a hand through his hair the way he did when annoyed.
"You’re in a mood," Elias observed.
"I’ve earned it."
"Victor," Elias said, voice steady, "if you handle it... don’t destroy the entire accounting department. Some people there are innocent."
"I’ll be delicate."
"You don’t know how to be delicate."
Victor’s smile sharpened. "I do. With you."
Elias went silent again and Victor could imagine his mate in the office blushing with that lovely pink hue.
And Victor felt something warm unfurl in his chest.
"So," he murmured, stepping into the elevator. "Will you take this one? Or shall I?"
A beat.
Elias sighed like he wanted to expel his soul out of his body. "Sure. I’m pregnant and permanently exhausted and swollen. You can do the purging, but no rapture. Do it like the businessman you are."
Victor let out a low, delighted hum, one hand sliding into his coat pocket as the elevator doors closed behind him.
"No rapture," he repeated, amused. "Business casual divine retribution. Understood."
"I mean it," Elias added, more sternly now, though the edge in his voice was softened by weariness. "Don’t explode anyone. I don’t want to have to sign another PR statement about internal restructuring through incineration."
Victor laughed. Actually laughed, the sound low and warm and utterly at odds with the man who had just mentally eviscerated a cultist through a wall of obsidian.
"I promise," he said, the words velvet-smooth. "Just a little fiscal discipline. Maybe a boardroom exorcism. Something light."
"Victor."
He sighed. "Fine. I’ll use the spreadsheets."
There was a pause, then Elias muttered, "God help me."
Victor grinned, stepping out of the elevator into the upper floors of the Numen executive wing. The floor here was marble, the walls paneled in warm, dark wood, and the air smelled faintly of expensive ink and colder wars. Assistants passing in the corridor froze at the sight of him, immediately veering to give a wide berth. One even dropped her coffee.
Victor paid none of them any mind.
"Anything else you want to tell me before I start?" he asked, already scanning the translucent interface that had appeared before him with a flick of his fingers. Account access. Communications. Full internal audit.
Elias hesitated. "Yes. There’s a new name in the system, Ilia Wren. They’re using proxy credentials tied to your old holdings. High-level clearance. I only found it because the transaction flags didn’t match the Clarke risk profile."
Victor’s expression went flat.
"Ilia Wren," he repeated. "That’s a very dead name."
"I know."
Victor’s red irises pulsed faintly. "And yet here they are, logging into my financial arm like I gave them a welcome basket."
"I already locked the port. But I think they were trying to triangulate the Numen research vault."
"Oh," Victor said, dangerously calm. "So it’s treason and theft."
"I’m letting you have them," Elias said tiredly. "Don’t make me regret it."
"You won’t," Victor promised, turning into the conference room already filling with a silent, summoned team of enforcers dressed like accountants.
He didn’t look at them.
He only said, "Get me everything Ilia Wren touched in the last four months. And notify the loyalty audit team, we’re starting early."
Then, softer, to Elias:
"Go rest. I’ll handle this."
Elias, from his end, only sighed again. "If they vanish, Victor..."
"They won’t," he said, already smiling. "They’ll simply... reconsider their career trajectory."
A pause.
"...Through a window?"
Victor didn’t answer.