The Riegrow mansion was quiet.
Outside, rain fell heavily, striking the windows and roof with a force that made the whole house feel buried beneath water.
Chaos returned home in the middle of it.
The moment the car stopped, he was already out.
He ran through the entrance hall, through the long corridors, past servants who froze at the sight of him and guards who tried to follow.
Every trace of the seventeen-year-old boy who commanded men twice his age and made killers lower their heads vanished.
What remained was a frightened child.
His footsteps thundered against the marble floor.
Voices rose around him.
Guards shouting.
Servants crying.
Someone called his name.
Chaos heard none of it clearly.
The world had gone distant, muffled beneath the roaring in his head.
He reached Selene's room and shoved the door open.
Someone grabbed his arm.
Xavier?
Maybe a guard.
Maybe several hands at once.
Chaos did not know.
He only knew something was holding him back.
Something was stopping him from reaching her.
He tore free, or perhaps they let go.
He could not tell.
Someone was screaming.
The sound was raw and broken, tearing through the room like a wounded animal.
Was it him?
His throat burned.
His chest hurt.
But no sound seemed to reach his ears.
Then he saw her.
Selene lay on the bed, covered with a white sheet.
Chaos went still.
The room tilted slightly around him.
For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
Slowly, he walked toward the bed. His hands trembled at his sides.
Then his gaze dropped. His hands were bare.
Chaos stared at them.
His gloves were missing. Where were his gloves? Had he forgotten to put them on?
No.
No, that was wrong.
He could not touch her like this.
Not with bare hands.
Mother said not to.
Mother had told him over and over that touching things with his bare hands would bring ruin to them.
That he destroyed what he touched. That he was a sorry flower, a cursed thing, something that needed to be contained.
He could not touch her.
Not like this.
Not without his gloves.
He stepped back sharply, looking around the room.
The gloves.
There had to be gloves.
Selene always kept a spare pair in her room. She had to. She always did. He needed them.
He needed to find them before...
Before what?
Chaos's breath caught. He turned away from the bed and began searching.
Drawers opened. Clothes were pulled out. Small boxes hit the floor.
A vase shattered close to him He moved through the room with increasing desperation, tearing through everything his hands could reach.
Where were they? Where were the gloves?
He needed to hold her.
He needed to touch her properly. He needed to...
Chaos stopped.
His chest rose and fell unevenly. Slowly, he turned back toward the bed.
Downstairs, he had heard men saying something about moving her body.
Moving her body.
Why would they move his mother's body?
His throat tightened.
He swallowed, but even swallowing hurt.
Slowly, he walked back to the bed.
The rain battered the windows behind him.
The white sheet over Selene shifted faintly beneath the breeze slipping in through the curtains.
Chaos sat beside her. His bare hands curled against his knees.
"I…" His voice trembled, Breaking. "I can't find the gloves, Mother."
The words came out too small. He lowered his head, his shoulders shaking.
"Forgive me," he whispered. "But I need to…"
He stopped.
Need to what? Hold her?
Wake her? Ask her why she had left before remembering him?
Would she forgive him if he touched her without the gloves? Would she hate him?
Would she scream?
Would she open her eyes and tell him again that he was not her son?
The past few weeks after his return had been cruel.
Selene's condition had worsened. Her screams had grown sharper. Her mind had buried him so deeply that his presence only seemed to drag the grave open again.
He had sworn to stay away. Not because he no longer cared. Because he thought distance might spare her.
Because he thought that one day she would get better.
One day, she would look at him and remember.
One day, they would become something close to family again.
But now… Now she was...
No.
Chaos pressed a hand against his head.
No.
He refused to think of it.
The sheet shifted again with the cold breeze.
Chaos looked at it.
She was fine.
His mother was strong.
Selene Riegrow was not someone death could take so quietly.
She would get through this.
She had to.
Chaos stood up, turning away from the bed and walked out of the room.
Xavier was waiting outside with several guards, all of them standing with their heads lowered.
"Young Master," Xavier called softly.
Chaos stopped.
Slowly, he turned. His eyes were red, but he had not cried.
His whole body was trembling, but he did not feel cold.
"Fa…" His voice caught.
He forced the words out. "Where is Father?"
Xavier's expression tightened.
"The master…" He hesitated. "He is not back yet."
Caesar was not home.
His wife was dead.
His mother lay covered in a white sheet behind that door, no longer breathing, and Caesar was nowhere near her.
Typical Caesar.
Something inside Chaos went very still. He looked back at Selene's door.
"She hates noise." His voice was low.
Hoarse. Dangerously calm. "Close the fucking door."
The guards immediately stepped forward and closed the door to Selene's room.
Softly.
Carefully.
As though she were only sleeping.
Chaos turned and walked away.