Page 67 of The Idol

I wanted to see him.

God, I needed to see him.

Not to confess. Not to apologize. Not to explain.

Just to make sure he was still intact.

Still Elior.

Still mine.

My pulse thudded hard under my skin.

I stopped pacing and pressed my hand to my sternum, feeling the echo of that rage, that fear, that… devotion.

Elior didn’t know what had happened to him last night.

He didn’t know why his body felt the way it did.

He didn’t know the truth.

And after today… after watching him take pain meant for someone else… after seeing him so scared he offered himself without thinking…

I didn’t know how exactly to tell him.

But I knew one thing with absolute certainty—the only thing that cut through all the noise, all the fear, and all the fury—I would never let him hurt like that again.

Not while I was still breathing.

And so, I grabbed my shirt, yanking it over my shoulders as I slipped out of my room, letting the door close silently behind me. The entire building was dim and still. Everyone had gone to bed hours ago.

I moved through the hall with the same practiced quiet I used on ops. Every step was silent, and my ears strained for any sound—a cough, a shifting cot, a door opening, anything.

Thankfully, I stepped out of the building without any issue, then made my way to the chapel.

Just like last night, the chapel door was unlocked.

The chapel interior was shadowed and devoid of life, pews empty of the witnesses of Elior’s abuse. My footsteps barely echoed over the floor as I walked through the sanctuary to the door leading to Elior’s quarters.

The door squeaked as I slowly opened it. When I reached his bedroom door, I froze, taking a quick breath before placing my hand on the knob and twisting.

And there he was.

Lying on his stomach on the bed, face turned toward the doorway, hair mussed, eyes full of emotions someone as sweet as him should never have to feel.

The second he saw me, his lips trembled, and then the first sob slipped out of him, thin and helpless.

It tore straight through me.

“Elior,” I breathed, stepping inside so quickly the door swung shut behind me. I crossed the room in three long strides and dropped to my knees beside the bed.

He reached for me at the same time I reached for him.

His trembling hands found my shoulders as my hands framed his face. His skin was hot under my palms, damp with tears, and splotched red.

“Oh,baby—hey, hey,” I rasped, leaning close without touching anything that might hurt. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

Elior’s face crumpled. “I-I-I tried t-to be b-brave,” he choked, voice wobbling around every word. “I tried so hard—”