Blood, Fire, and Trust

"Even if you come to despise me for it, I would do the same again," her mother said, the sound low but unflinching, heavy with the truth that could neither be apologized away nor refuted.

For one heartbeat, the room seemed to curve, leaning drunkenly as if the very air had felt the confession and bowed beneath its weight. The words landed on Victor with the accuracy of flames, burning through him so acutely it was almost as if his chest could open like a book. His fists convulsed, nails digging into his palms until the flesh ripped, and the accompanying sting made a jolt of pain shoot up his arms.

His purple eyes flared, a tempest of struggle and unbridled emotion. One of him seethed with warrior-like fury, eager to strike out at those who dared imperil what he had, yet another—that tender, orphaned boy who had so newly found the treacherous warmth of being desired—shuddered, shivering under the ferocity of a passion he didn't know how to define.

Anna's voice grew thready; there was an icy, desperate bite now. And I know you lied yesterday. You said you slept somewhere else. Something happened to you, and whether it is important or not, I need to know if it cuts at us. If it matters, tell me. If it must remain buried, then bury it—we will bear it together.". But know this: your secrets are my cross, and the first one who does you wrong I'll kill before he reaches you. Even if it kills me."

Victor stood still, the air around him halting, as if waiting to see if he would take a step or break. His chest contracted and expanded in wild, shallow draws, each one a battle against the tempest within. Shadows curled and lay at his feet, trembling like black water responding to some unseen bidding, uneasy but bound to him. Inside, two polarities tore at one another—a man that yearned for truth, for battle, and the cowering child who merely wanted a hand to hold, a protection against the world's cruelty.

A fire raged through his blood, hot and relentless. He wanted to unleash it all: to have his voice rip across the rafters, to throw blame like broken glass until the room recalled the wrath of his name; to pull her into a relentless hug, swearing she would never go away; to push her away, faking indifference as his heart broke quietly. Every need struggled against the others, hard and irreconcilable, and yet he swallowed them down into the hush that clung like a heavy presence.

When his voice at last broke out, it was rough, measured, slicing through the silence with a force that made each word vibrate with import. "…If that man betrayed me, his death was mine to claim.". But… I'm not going to waste another breath on a dead body. What's important is here. Now. What's in front of us." The words quivered at the edges, bearing the weight of all those years of holding back, of feelings locked behind walls of steel he'd worked a lifetime constructing. He breathed out quietly, a sound that seemed to let out a lifetime of unvoiced tension. Then, hesitantly, he turned towards her, and the hardness in his eyes relaxed, showing the faintest hint of wanting, of concern, and of something vulnerable he had nearly forgotten that he was capable of feeling.

"Mother. don't be afraid. I never hate you.". Because you are my benefactor, my well-wisher, and above all my mother and my everything…" His voice shook just a little as he stretched out his hand, taking hold of hers, holding it tenderly, their fingers entwining as they sealed an unspoken vow. Her faint smile pushed warmth into his chest, and he returned it, angling his face just so, catching her eye from the side, experiencing the gentle throb of connection that neither time nor loss could wear away.

Ben eventually let out a long, measured breath, the sound weighed down with years of unsaid tension, loss, and a pride that would not abate. His shoulders hunched, the burden of memory bearing down like a physical weight, and his blue eyes glowed with a blend of longing and regret that hadn't come loose until this moment. With every move he made toward Victor, there was a considered calm, a measured certainty that anchored them both in the tenuous now. When he put his hand strongly on Victor's shoulder, it wasn't just a touch—it was an anchor, a silent assurance of stability in turmoil. There was softness to the motion, an almost personal cadence in the hesitation before his voice sliced through the residual silence.

"Now… if your son's mother has learned, then we proceed," he whispered, his voice gravelly, lined by years of restraint. "And the next time, Anna… please, let me know if a life is in question. Let me know before you do anything. I will support your decision." The words held a naked honesty, a shudder of both order and concern, leashed by a lifetime of order and love that had learned to conceal itself behind measured command.

Victor's eyes grew sharp, cutting through the fog of mourning like steel cutting through fog. His were bright, questing eyes, bearing a burden beyond his years—a shaken yet resolute curiosity, insisting on truth while shaking with the hesitant hope of insight. "Then tell me, Father," he insisted, voice firm but low, underscored with urgency. "What is this lightning?

" The question lay between them, heavy with promise, yet fragile in the way a secret shared on a whisper might be, a prayer for revelation and direction in the face of doubt. Ben's hand lay upon Victor's shoulder, a light but insistent pressure, a quiet mooring in the eddying darkness of the room, a reminder of presence when words might fail.". His eyes drifted to the tempest outside the window, where lightning cut the sky in serrated brilliance, casting fleeting, electric lucidity across the lines of the walls. Each flash appeared to mirror the tumult he bore within him, a silent reflection of the turmoil that had long gnawed at his insides. He stopped, allowing tension to linger, as if debating whether to unleash the truth—or conceal it—between each deliberated breath.

Then, with studied caution, he lowered his voice, allowing it to vibrate with a seriousness that commanded respect.

"Yes, son… you are ready to hear. Listen closely. This lightning~!"

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