He had promised Dante to take on the experiments, and yet he stood uncertain in front of his father's office. It wasn't as though he suddenly wanted to refuse or even call off the whole thing.
After all, Helios Vale was not someone who retreated.
And he was certainly not someone who broke a promise once given—least of all to someone close to him. The only thing he resisted inwardly was the impending confrontation with his father. Nothing more, nothing less.
It wasn't the first time they had argued. Ever since his mother had died, they fought often—almost on a regular basis. Most of the time, it was his father who approached him, trying gently to persuade him to take care of his dead mother. He drank, grew more aggressive. The fatherly love he usually showed turned into pressure on Helios. He told him he was a bad son for not loving his mother. He cursed him for his stupid stubbornness, accusing him of denying his mother's wish to watch him grow up.
But Helios always remained steadfast. He reacted with a kind of defensive stance. Again and again, he explained to his father why he couldn't do it—and why he didn't even want to. He wanted to move on, but that was exactly the point of their constant arguments.
That was probably why they kept drifting further and further apart.
Helios did everything his father placed on his desk. It didn't bother him—he had been working since childhood, after all. For him, working a lot was normal, and it distracted him. Even if he worked late into the night, it was perfectly fine with him. On the one hand, everyone at home was asleep by the time he returned, and on the other, one case or another was interesting enough to demand his full attention.
So why was he hesitating now? Why was he standing in front of this door like a damned fool, unable to push down the handle?
Maybe his father had been right. Helios had changed.
In the past, he hadn't cared what others felt or thought. But Davis had shaken that indifference—and Dante even more so. Since they had entered his life, something had shifted, subtly but irreversibly. He let others get closer, even if he admitted it only grudgingly.
He exhaled in frustration. If he kept thinking about it, he'd end up standing here all evening doing nothing. Dante wasn't with him either. He had stayed in their room, waiting for Helios.
It hadn't made sense to bring him along. For one, Dante would have had to wait outside the door, and since his father seemed to have something against Dante, Helios didn't want to risk putting him in a bad mood beforehand. Besides, every time Dante looked at his father, Helios could see that cold fury in his eyes.
Close your eyes and push through. There was no other choice anyway.
Helios knocked, waited a moment until his father called him in, then stepped into the office. The door fell shut softly; for a moment, the only sounds were the gentle ticking of the clock and the rustling of old files. Silently, he walked up to the desk. His father looked at him with a mixture of surprise and relief—and no wonder, since it was rare for Helios to approach him after a fight.
While Helios had stubbornly buried himself in his work, it had always been his father who felt guilty and came to him. Even now he looked at him with a guilty expression. He stood up.
"Helios…!" he burst out, then cleared his throat and forced his voice to sound controlled. "It's unusual for you to come here after an argument."
Helios sat down in the armchair by the window. The evening sun cast narrow bands of light through the glass and bathed the room in a cosy red glow.
"As you've probably noticed, I've changed," he said calmly.
His father sat down too. His expression was a little conflicted. But Helios also saw curiosity in his eyes.
"Tell me about the Sentinel Project," he said.
"You… have you thought it over?" his father asked cautiously.
Helios nodded. "If you think about it closely, the basic idea isn't wrong and it would give our country unprecedented military strength. I'm not particularly interested in politics, but I would like to be able to continue my work in the future without a sudden war breaking out. Besides, sturdy guardians sound more than reassuring."
His father laughed, grinning broadly. "I knew I could count on you, my boy!"
Helios raised a hand. "Wait. Before you bring me into everything, there are a few things we should discuss first. First: I will inspect the project on site and examine the test subjects. Second: I'll do this my way — either we go my way, or not at all. Third: I won't promise to find a remedy. I'll try a few approaches. However, if none of the attempts bear fruit, I will abandon the project."
His father regarded him with a businesslike look. "Of course. If you can't find a remedy, no one will be able to." he said seriously.
Helios was fully aware that his father still had hopes and that a later "no" would not be easily accepted. After all, he was a man with high expectations. When the time came he would have to give a fairly logical explanation for why he couldn't develop the desired remedy.
It would also be the first defeat he would have to admit.
Annoying, but it had to be done. He still didn't have a good gut feeling about the matter. Yes, it would be interesting to create this remedy, but the consequences would be devastating. He would have to falsify the documentation and apply his existing knowledge so that, outwardly, he tested promising approaches that in reality would have no effect — and preferably in a way that the test subjects would not die.
It would be completely contrary to what he normally did.
The whole thing was going to be damn exhausting. In the end, his only real interest lay in a cure for immortality, so that he and Dante would always have the option of living a mortal life if they wished.
"How is it that you're suddenly interested in the project after all?" his father asked with a paternal smile. But Helios saw the cold calculation behind that look.
Helios shrugged. "Maybe after all the boring work, I just feel like taking on a real challenge again."
His father laughed once more.
"I knew ambition would get the better of you!"
"I demand unrestricted access to the entire project and all available formulas. You'll assign me those who have worked on it so far, and no one is ever to question my methods."
"No problem. Anything else?"
Helios nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. He felt the old anger start to boil in his veins, but he kept it under control. His gaze grew colder, almost icy.
"I still won't grant your other request," he said firmly.
His father's expression darkened, his hands clenched, and he too seemed to struggle to keep himself in check. He wasn't a fool. He knew that if he lashed out now, Helios would refuse to help him with the Sentinel Project as well.
Carrot and stick was still the best way to get what you wanted.
"Very well," his father said in a calmer tone than Helios would have expected. "But I have demands of my own."
Helios nodded. He had expected as much.
"I'm listening."
"This project is secret, so you will tell no one about it."
Helios shrugged, a mocking smile flickering across his face. "My friends are dead. Who would I tell?"
His father's eyes narrowed. "That includes your bodyguard Dante. I know the two of you are close."
Helios's heart skipped a beat. Had he found something out? Still, he put on a relaxed smile. He might be terrible at poker, but his poker face was flawless.
"He may sleep in my bed, but that's all there is to it. I can't risk dying just because my closest bodyguard wrenched his neck on a cramped cot," he said with amusement. "Dante is useful, nothing more."
His father watched him for a moment longer, then finally nodded in satisfaction.
But Helios knew better. Behind that agreement lurked mistrust, creeping and watchful like a predator in the dark. Damn it — if his father ever found out about his sexual preferences, his life would truly become unpleasant.
"You can surely understand that I cannot reveal the location of the facility to you. As you know, there were certain complications I've had to deal with over the past weeks. I don't want that to repeat itself."
Helios was relieved that his father didn't press further about Dante. He leaned back in his armchair and raised an eyebrow.
"You distrust your own son? Haven't I carried out everything you've asked of me with absolute perfection? That really hurts."
His father nodded. "You have. However, I must eliminate certain consequences in advance, if you understand."
"Of course, Father," Helios said obediently. "So I assume Dante won't be allowed to come along, and that you'll blindfold me as well? Fine, so be it. By the way, I won't spend more than three days a week working in your secret facility. After all, I still have plenty of work piled up on my desk, as you well know."
His father's smile looked satisfied.
"Don't worry, I'll take some of that workload off your shoulders. Three days a week is a wonderful offer, and you guessed right — your guard will remain here during that time. You'll be escorted by guards of my choosing."
"Fine by me. Anything else?" Helios asked.
The whole thing was going more smoothly than expected, though it didn't surprise him. The situation felt as if he were holding a juicy, bloody steak under the nose of a hungry lion. He hadn't expected to fail anyway.
"No, I'm sure you won't disappoint me," his father said in a tone that told Helios he would not accept failure. "There's only one more thing we should quickly discuss before I initiate you into the project."
Helios could already guess what it was about.
"Is this about the evening reception?" he asked nonetheless.
His father nodded with satisfaction. "I'm glad you catch on quickly," he said. "You will meet Lady Belvoir next week. She will accompany you to the evening reception."
"I'm very sorry, Father, but you'll have to cancel with her."
His father looked at him in surprise. "Helios, I already told you that you won't get around going to the reception with a lady, and if I remember correctly, you agreed that I could find someone suitable for you."
"I did," Helios said in a casual tone, "but yesterday I asked Violet Cresent to accompany me."
His father raised an eyebrow. His expression shifted from surprise to disbelief.
"Didn't you say you don't date patients?"
Helios's smile turned mocking. "Violet is the fruit of my last great work. Besides, I promised her I would dance with her once she could walk again."
His father's expression grew thoughtful; he seemed to be weighing the situation and searching for advantages Violet Cresent might bring with her. "I had already heard that her condition has improved quite a bit. Perhaps that's not such a bad idea — that way we can publicly present the living result of your work."
"So you'll cancel with Lady Belvoir? She can accompany me next time," Helios said smoothly, though every part of him resisted it.
"At last you're thinking like a Vale," his father grinned. "Don't worry, I'll send her a message first thing tomorrow morning. Rejection always makes women yearn for you even more."
Helios would have liked to vomit at his father's words. What would his mother say about the nightly activities of her husband?
"Since we've now settled all the conditions, we should move on to the main subject. It's getting rather late, and I wanted to get a few things done tomorrow."
"How right you are, my boy," his father said. He fixed his gaze on Helios and began telling him about the Sentinel Project.
___
Three hours later, he collapsed into his bed, exhausted. This meeting with his father had demanded more from him than was good for him. Just being in the same room with him for such a long stretch made him feel years older.
When had it last been that he had to put on such a façade? On top of that, his father hadn't told him anything he didn't already know. He didn't even know if there was a single drop of ambrosia left — and it wasn't as though he could simply ask about it.
He nestled against Dante, who had been waiting for him and was still awake.
"You did well," his lover said, brushing a stubborn lock of hair from his forehead.
Helios chuckled. "You don't even know what happened," he said in amusement.
"There's no blood on your hands, so you probably didn't kill your father in the last three hours," Dante said with a smile.
"Maybe I injected him with a little poison."
"That would suit you — but in that case you'd probably look more satisfied."
Helios sighed. "Unfortunately, not all wishes come true."
"How bad was it?" Dante asked, his tone more serious.
"Worse than having to watch Theo's helplessness," Helios murmured. "But it went well. The day after tomorrow I'll go there and see for myself."
"Sounds good. Did he pressure you about your mother?"
"He didn't dare. He knows when to take an offer. But on the days I'm there you'll have to wait for me here."
Dante looked at him in shock. "What?!"
Helios made a face. "He doesn't even want me to know where the facility is."
"Shit," Dante swore. "Do you think he suspects something?"
"Maybe. But he didn't ask or say anything along those lines."
"So they still haven't found the broken-open drawer either?" Dante asked. He sounded a little stressed, so Helios stroked the scar on his cheek reassuringly.
"Seems not. Don't worry, Dante. Nothing out of the ordinary should happen in the few hours we're apart."
"I don't like you going alone."
Helios's heart tightened at the words and he couldn't help but think of the night he had been shot. Davis had said the exact same thing.
"I'm very likely immortal, remember?" Helios said with a mischievous grin.
"Can't I still worry?" Dante murmured.
"You can. But can't I tell you you don't need to?" Helios replied.
Dante slowly exhaled. "You're killing me."
"We have no choice but to bow to his demands," Helios said regretfully. He hated having his hands tied.
His only consolation was that his father's hands were tied as well. Helios had made his conditions clear and meant every word. He only had to find a way to explain his 'experiments' logically while doing something entirely different. He had to figure out how he wanted the subjects to react and what side effects might appear.
He would have to develop a toxin that would immobilize bodily functions and affect pulse, blood pressure, and respiration. He expected that not only one subject under his supervision would die.
At least Dante wouldn't be on site to see it all.
That gave him enough leeway. Leeway and time to think.
Even though he absolutely disliked having to leave his lover's side three days a week, he had grown far too accustomed to having him close.
"When will you go there for the first time?" Dante asked quietly.
"The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll take care of the more urgent things on my desk, and after that the Sentinel Project," Helios said. His gaze met Dante's worried one. "What will you do while I'm not here?"
Dante gave a pained smile. "Probably training."
Helios chuckled. "The training dummies are going to have a hard time with you."
"Somehow I have to distract myself from the fact that I'll have no idea where you are."
"Well, I'd also like to know where he'll be taking me," Helios said thoughtfully. Tired, he nestled against Dante. "In the end, it doesn't matter where I'm taken. In a few weeks the project will no longer exist. Hopefully, then he'll leave me in peace."
It was playing with fire. Nothing could be allowed to go wrong unexpectedly. He needed absolute control, and he had to deceive everyone involved in the project.
Dante kissed the crown of his head.
"If it becomes too much, you can always quit."
Helios smiled. "I know."
But leaving a project half-finished wasn't really in his nature. The coming weeks would show how his new mission would unfold.