The papers still sat between them.
Lucas hadn't touched them since Trevor set them down, and Trevor hadn't moved since. The library was quiet—too quiet for spring—but the window had been left cracked open, and the air that drifted in smelled faintly of earth and pale blossoms. Somewhere outside, a breeze stirred the first leaves on the trees. Soft green, not yet stubborn.
Inside, everything remained still.
Trevor leaned forward first, resting his forearms against his thighs. "You are not fine."
"And you're repeating yourself."
"Let me deal with the NDAs. And when I find something," Trevor said, voice smooth, "I will make sure to inform you. That's why I'm here."
He smiled then, not the charming one he wore in public, not the crooked one he used when teasing, but something quieter, sharper. The kind of smile that would make others shiver. The kind that meant someone, somewhere, was about to lose.
Lucas leaned back slightly, watching him. "And what exactly do you plan to do with that information?"
Trevor tilted his head, still smiling. "Something loud. But legally phrased."
Lucas exhaled through his nose, the ghost of amusement flickering at the corner of his mouth. "Try not to get arrested. It would reflect poorly on our engagement."
"Please," Trevor said, rising from his chair and tucking the folder under his arm. "If I get arrested, it'll be on purpose."
Lucas watched him leave with the same casual walk and relaxed body language he always had—like nothing ever touched him unless he allowed it. The door clicked softly behind him.
He stayed seated.
The breeze slipped in again through the cracked window, brushing against his hair.
For the first time in a long time, he realized how strange—how surprisingly nice—it felt to rely on someone else. To delegate. To let go, even if just for a moment.
He didn't trust easily. He never had.
But Trevor… Trevor had offered his teeth first. And then his hands.
Lucas closed his eyes briefly, long enough to gather the next part of himself.
Then he stood.
He still had two names to chase.
—
The wing Serathine had prepared for him wasn't overly decorated. Not like the rest of the manor. It had clean lines, high ceilings, and thick walls that made silence feel intentional. The study adjacent to his bedroom was small but efficient—bookshelves lined with things he'd never read, a desk already organized, and a dark paneled window that framed the eastern trees.
Trevor sat at the desk, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled back. His tie was gone, the gold chain still visible beneath his open collar.
The folder lay in front of him, untouched for the past ten minutes. He didn't need to reread it.
He picked up his phone, pressed one button, and waited.
It didn't take long.
A voice answered—calm, male, older. "Sir."
"Pull every contract tied to the Cierane shell firm. Education sector first, then domestic staff. I want their dates, locations, termination clauses, and payout ledgers."
"Yes, sir."
"Start cross-checking the legal language with any case that passed through the northern court in the last five years. Search for duplicated phrasing, especially under sealed arbitration. I don't care how deep you have to go."
A pause.
"And, sir—am I requesting access under D'Argente protocol or Fitzgeralt?"
Trevor didn't hesitate. "Fitzgeralt. The Empire can play catch-up later."
"Yes, sir."
He hung up.
Outside, the breeze moved through the upper trees. In here, nothing moved at all.
Trevor's hand was still on the phone, tapping slowly against the side of it—once, twice. Then he stopped.
He dialed again.
The line barely rang once.
"Trevor," Serathine answered, her voice warm but dry. "I've been gone for less than three hours. Did you burn the manor down?"
"Not yet," he said, leaning back in the chair. "But give me time."
A pause. Then the sound of her amusement filtered through. "I assume this is about the boy."
"Which one?" Trevor asked.
"The one you're stalking like it's foreplay."
Trevor smiled, just a little. "Lucas found the first thread. I'm pulling the rest."
He paused, his gaze flicking to the folder still on the desk.
"Did Caelan tell Sirius and Lucius about Faceless Agatha?"
Serathine exhaled, the sound thoughtful. "He told them. Why?"
"Because of the meeting with Steven," Trevor said, rubbing his temple once before letting his hand fall. "Misty made him sign an NDA and gave him severance money."
He paused, just long enough for the weight of it to land.
"I might know why the others don't work anywhere yet. We're lucky Lucas had no interest in reading the NDA thoroughly."
There was silence on the line. He could hear Serathine's mind gears turning.
Serathine's voice, when it returned, was sharper. "How bad is it?"
"Bad enough that I need imperial interference," Trevor said. "Not to attack—yet. Just to keep Misty or her client from realizing we've seen it."
"And Lucas?"
Trevor leaned back in the chair, his gaze unfocused now. "I'll keep him focused on the professors. He needs to feel like something's moving forward."
He paused, just long enough for the next thought to land.
"If the others signed the same NDA, it'll make him curious. I'll make sure that if they did, they won't tell Lucas anything about it."
Serathine didn't respond at first. When she did, her voice was low. "You're managing him."
"I'm protecting him," Trevor said, without flinching. "There's a difference."
Another pause.
"If he sees the pattern, he'll dig. And if he digs, he'll find more than he's ready for."
Serathine's tone sharpened. "And if he finds out you're managing that too?"
Trevor smiled faintly. "Then I'll tell him it was strategy."
"And if that doesn't work?"
The smile didn't fade. "I'll lie better."
"You're a bastard."
"And you and Caelan knew that before forcing me into this."
Serathine gave a soft, humorless laugh. "We didn't force you. We gave you a seat. You stayed."
Trevor leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk now, voice smooth. "You blackmailed me. I stayed because I knew what they'd do to him. And because I thought—if I got there first—I could limit the damage."
Serathine's tone cooled. "And now?"
Trevor's eyes flicked to the folder. Then to the empty window.
"Now I'll ignore your warning," he said, his voice quiet but unflinching. "Lucas is mine to protect now."
He let that settle.
Serathine would understand the rest without needing it said aloud. Even if Lucas wasn't convinced about the engagement, Trevor was. That was enough. He had made his decision. Which meant Lucas, in every way that mattered, was his.
His to protect, defend, and his to take revenge for—quietly, thoroughly, and without apology.
"I want names."
Serathine didn't argue.