Chapter 27: Chapter 27: Failure

Damian stood by his desk, leaning a hip against it while flipping through defense updates. On the very expensive sofa across from him: one sulking alpha. Sometimes he questioned when exactly he’d signed up to be emotional support for former comrades who were now technically his subjects.

Augustus was still annoyed about Gregoris’s little stunt.

“That bastard stole my date,” he said, deadpan.

Damian didn’t look up. “Was it a date?”

“We had dinner plans.”

“Did Rafael agree?”

“Yes. He agreed to mine, not Gregoris’s.”

Damian turned another page like he was reading a grocery list.

“So,” Augustus tried again, sipping his coffee like he’d already lived through three meetings today, “your favorite monster threatened to blow up my car.”

Damian still didn’t look up. “Which one?”

“The blue one. The ether-runner with the custom coils.”

“Mmm.” Damian finally lifted his eyes, golden and bored with a hint of amusement. “He did warn you.”

“He threatened me,” Augustus said, way too calm for someone recounting extortion. “Over a second date. With Rafael.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Did you go?”

“…No. I like that car.”

“Then it worked.”

Augustus stared at him. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Damian said lightly, “you keep coming here to complain.”

“I come here because Max would laugh at me, Christian would tell me to fight Gregoris, and Gabriel… Gabriel would give me that polite omega smile that means ’I support you,’ but he really means ’I don’t care unless it amuses me.’”

“That sounds accurate.”

Augustus dragged a hand down his face. “I wasn’t even that serious about Rafael. He’s just… nice. Easy to talk to. Pretty.”

Damian’s gaze sharpened a fraction. “He’s also Gabriel’s secretary. And under my protection. And one of the few omegas who doesn’t faint when nobles get political.”

“I wasn’t going to kidnap him,” Augustus muttered. “It was just dinner.”

“Gregoris doesn’t share toys.”

“I KNOW,” Augustus snapped, then immediately slumped like the Empire itself had stepped on his spine. “And now he’s in that stage where he’s pretending it wasn’t jealousy. You know the one.”

“Oh yes.” Damian finally set the file aside. “The one where he stares at walls like they insulted him and refuses to admit he’s in love.”

Augustus groaned into his hands. “I need Rafael to end him.”

Damian smiled slow, sharp, and faintly predatory. Augustus immediately regretted confiding in a man whose idea of humor involved watching people bleed during diplomatic negotiations. For a moment Damian seemed softer these days, not weaker, just… more grounded. A man with a real mate and a child on the way.

But then he smiled like that.

Yeah. No. He did not have normal friends.

And Augustus was painfully aware he was in a room with the Emperor of the Empire and the former leader of a rebel army who won mostly by making everyone else afraid to oppose him.

Damian leaned back against his desk, arms crossed lightly. “You’re all dramatic. You, Gregoris, Rafael… it’s like watching toddlers fight over a shiny rock.”

“I am not dramatic.”

“You’re drinking coffee at nine in the morning and complaining like you survived a war.”

“I did survive a war.”

Damian’s lips twitched. “Yes. And look how well you’ve recovered.”

Augustus glared at him. Damian looked entirely unbothered.

Then there was a faint shift in the air, just enough pressure that Augustus’s instincts pricked.

Damian felt it too. He sighed. “He’s here.”

“Who…”

The door opened.

Gregoris walked in like he owned the oxygen in the room, eyes fixed on Augustus with that flat, ’I’m considering violence but politely’ expression that made most grown men rethink their life choices.

Augustus lifted a hand. “No threats today. I’m tired.”

Gregoris ignored Augustus’s raised hand completely. He moved across the room in his smooth way, shoulders relaxed, steps silent, presence heavy enough to draw the air with him, and placed a folder on Damian’s desk.

“Your Majesty,” he said, voice low and cold, “someone attempted to court your pregnant mate again.”

The temperature of the room dipped. Even the lights felt a little dimmer.

Damian finished the sentence he was reading, then lifted his gaze with a tired patience that was more dangerous than anger. “Who was it this time?”

“The Minister of Finance’s nephew.”

Damian blinked slowly. “The one who fainted at Gabriel’s citrus tea party?”

“Yes,” Gregoris replied, his expression as flat as polished steel.

“…Interesting choice,” Damian murmured.

On the sofa, Augustus snorted into his coffee. The porcelain cup clicked softly against his teeth. “Your mate was glowing that day. Maybe the kid thought the heavens were calling.”

Gregoris turned his head with the kind of stillness that made Augustus’s instincts jolt. His eyes said, ’Continue and I’ll staple your tongue to the wall.’

Damian waved a lazy hand. “Gabriel can handle himself unless the idiot touched him.”

Gregoris’s nostrils flared once. “He did.”

Damian’s expression didn’t change, but his golden eyes went predator-sharp. “And?”

“Gabriel smiled,” Gregoris said. His voice softened with a promise of doom he was totally enjoying. “The staff reacted. The situation was dealt with.”

Augustus choked. “He SMILED? Oh, gods. That boy is dead twice.”

Gregoris placed the second folder, thicker and stamped with the seal of Shadows, next to the first. “As for the report from Donin… the border is quiet. Leslie smelled tension in the southern passes. Max agrees. We found footprints, boot scuffs, and ether scars in the forest, but there are no active ether signatures. It feels like a shell without the animal.”

Damian flipped the folder open. The pages whispered against his fingers. “Hadeon hiding again. Coward.”

“Coward,” Gregoris echoed, the word warm in his mouth like a promise he intended to fulfill personally.

Augustus watched the two of them, one leaning like a bored god against his desk, the other a shadow carved into human shape, and wondered, not for the first time, if he needed new hobbies. Preferably ones far away from apex predators.

“You two are terrifying,” he muttered.

Damian didn’t bother to deny it. “You’re in my office drinking expensive coffee and complaining about dating. Clearly I’m not terrifying enough.”

“I AM terrified of you,” Augustus said. “Just not enough to shut up.”

Gregoris shifted slightly, weight settling into one leg. His coat brushed the floor, a soft whisper of fabric against stone. His gaze slid to Augustus like a blade laid across skin. “Speaking of talking. You owe Rafael a message.”

Augustus blinked. “I… do?”

“You do,” Gregoris repeated, tone clipped enough to carve the air.

Damian’s eyes gleamed with quiet amusement.

“What message?” Augustus asked slowly.

Gregoris didn’t blink. “You canceled your second date.”

“I canceled because you threatened to blow up my car.”

Gregoris’s voice didn’t change. “And?”

Damian muttered, “Augustus, stop. You can’t logic your way out of a death wish.”

Gregoris continued, perfectly calm, “You forgot to inform the system that you are no longer interested in Rafael Rosenroth.”

Augustus stared at him. “So you actually want me to retire from the list under the guise of what… exactly? I need a reason.”

“Failure.”

Augustus let out a soul-deep sigh. “Gregoris, you would have killed me while blowing up the car.”

Gregoris didn’t blink. “Yes. Which proves my point.”

Damian didn’t look up from his papers. “Just drop from the system, Augustus. Before he chooses a more dramatic teaching method.”

Gregoris added, “And do it today.”

Augustus threw his hands up. “Fine. I’ll retire from the list. Happy?”

“No,” Gregoris said. “But it’s a start.”

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