Chapter 193: Chapter 193: Timeline

[Back to present timeline.]

“Why are you here?” Gregoris said, like Maximilian’s presence in his office was the most irritating thing that had happened to him all week.

Max was sprawled on Gregoris’s expensive sofa as if it belonged to him, his jacket open, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, his expression blandly pleased in the exact way he knew would annoy Gregoris.

“Adam had to return to the south for the archives again,” Max said. “He took Noah too.”

Gregoris leaned back and tapped his desk once, twice, with measured irritation. “And what does that have to do with me?”

Max’s mouth twitched. “Because you and I were assigned to the Goliath mess.”

Gregoris’s eyes narrowed. “Assigned.”

“Assigned,” Max repeated, sweetly. “Damian wants every surviving scrap of documentation and media tied to Goliath located, secured, and verified – before it ends up in someone’s private collection or gets rewritten into propaganda. You’re on it. I’m on it. Adam is… assisting because he has better access to the southern archive networks than either of us.”

Gregoris’s expression didn’t soften. “So where’s the problem?”

Max shrugged like this was obvious. “The problem is that Adam is gone. My kid is gone. And I’m stuck in the capital while you pretend you don’t enjoy being given authority.”

Gregoris stared at him. “I don’t enjoy it.”

Max smiled. “That’s the lie you tell yourself to sleep at night.”

Gregoris’s jaw ticked once. “If we’re both assigned, why are you on my sofa instead of working?”

Max sighed, long and indignantly. “I am working. This is reconnaissance. I’m studying the enemy.”

“I’m the enemy?” Gregoris asked flatly.

“You’re certainly hostile,” Max said. “But no. The enemy is whoever’s been sitting on Goliath-era material and quietly selling it through channels that don’t leave a trail.”

Gregoris’s fingers stilled. “You have something.”

Max’s posture shifted a fraction, the humor thinning into focus. “Yes.”

Gregoris’s gaze sharpened. “Then speak.”

Max held up a hand, as if organizing the chaos into digestible pieces. “The south has physical archives. Adam can navigate those. But Goliath-era media didn’t live only on paper – there are private backups, old broadcast caches, sealed family collections, and the kind of ’lost’ recordings that mysteriously resurface when someone wants leverage.”

Gregoris leaned back slightly, listening now instead of trying to expel Max from his furniture. “And you think it’s moving.”

“It is moving,” Max corrected. “Quietly. Auction channels, private brokers, ’historical acquisitions.’ The sort of market where people buy the past so they can own it.”

Gregoris went still. “Names.”

Max smiled wickedly. “That’s why I’m here.”

Gregoris’s stare was long and flat. “Maximilian.”

Max lifted both hands in mock surrender. “I know. Annoying. But efficient.”

Gregoris exhaled, slow and controlled, then extended his hand. “Give me what you have.”

Max reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a slim data drive. He tossed it onto Gregoris’s desk like it was a casual thing, not the evidence that could start a war.

Gregoris picked it up without looking impressed. “If this is garbage—”

“It’s not,” Max said. “And if it is, you can punch me later. I’ll schedule it around your other hobbies.”

Gregoris’s mouth tightened. “Get off my sofa.”

Max didn’t move. “After you say you’ll run it.”

Gregoris stared.

Max stared back, stubborn as a curse.

Finally, Gregoris sighed. “Fine. I’ll run it.”

Max’s grin returned, bright and smug. “See? Teamwork.”

Gregoris’s glare could have killed.

Max only looked more pleased.

“Now leave,” Gregoris said, voice flat. He didn’t look up as he slotted the data drive in and started running it through his system. The screen lit with the kind of encrypted crawl that meant the evening was about to get unpleasant. He was already routing a live copy to Damian as well, because Damian didn’t assign tasks and then politely wait.

Max stayed exactly where he was.

Gregoris’s jaw ticked.

“My family is here,” Gregoris added, sharper now. “And I want time with my husband and my daughter. Not a duke with attachment issues loitering on my sofa like a cursed throw pillow.”

Max’s brows lifted. “Attachment issues?”

Gregoris’s eyes didn’t move from the monitor. “You heard me.”

Max made a slow, exaggerated sound of offense. “I don’t have attachment issues.”

Gregoris finally glanced up, deadpan. “You walked into my house the moment your mate left the capital.”

Max opened his mouth.

Gregoris lifted a hand without looking at him, a silent don’t.

Max sighed and rose from the sofa as if he were doing Gregoris an enormous favor. “Fine. Fine. Enjoy domestic bliss.”

Gregoris’s mouth tightened. “I plan to.”

Max straightened his jacket with that precise tug he did when he was annoyed and pretending he wasn’t. He was halfway to the door when voices drifted faintly from the corridor outside – lighter, warmer, the sorts of sound that didn’t belong to war rooms.

Rafael’s laugh was unmistakable. Bright in that way that made it sound like he was winning an argument with the universe.

Then a smaller voice, sharp and delighted.

Natalie.

Four years old and already loud enough to be considered a national incident in miniature.

Max paused without meaning to.

Gregoris didn’t look up, but his shoulders softened as if the sound had reached him too and untied something inside his chest.

“Daddy!” Natalie’s voice rang from the hallway, clear as a bell. “Rafa said you’re being mean again!”

Rafael’s voice followed, amused. “I said you’re being Gregoris again.”

Max’s mouth twitched before he could stop it.

Gregoris’s eyes flicked up briefly – warning and fondness tangled together in one look. “Go,” he repeated, like he wasn’t about to smile and was offended anyone might think he would.

Max lifted both hands in mock surrender and backed toward the door. “I’m going. I’m going.”

Gregoris’s gaze returned to the screen, but his tone shifted just slightly.

“And Max,” he added.

Max paused in the doorway. “What?”

Gregoris didn’t look up. “Tell Adam to stop letting you pretend you can stay away from him.”

Max’s throat tightened.

He forced a scoff. “I can stay away.”

Gregoris’s typing didn’t stop. “Liar.”

Max’s mouth twisted into something almost amused, almost grateful, and then he turned and left before the feeling could settle.

Behind him, Natalie’s laughter spilled down the hall, and Rafael’s voice softened as he coaxed her forward, and Gregoris – deadly shadow commander, terrifying in court, nightmare in combat – stood up from his desk like a man who would rather face an army than miss a bedtime story.

Max walked into the corridor, letting the warmth of their domestic chaos brush against him like a reminder.

He had a family too and decided to join them in south.

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