Elio sat back against the deep cushions of the sofa, one arm thrown over his eyes as he stared out at the fractured night lights of the city skyline. The silence in the room was suffocating, a stark contrast to the screaming crowds and blinding stage lights that had consumed his entire week. He was exhausted, but the restless, electric buzz under his skin wouldn't let him sleep.
He lowered his hand, his thumb sliding over the sleek metal casing of his phone before pressing it to his ear.
"I managed to get past the Empire's Archive Wing," Elio said, his voice dropping into that cool, guarded tone he used when the idol persona was completely stripped away. "But the grid was cleaner than we anticipated. The files we're looking for aren't there."
On the other end of the line, Aris sighed, the heavy sound of a protective older brother coming through the static. "It's fine. I told you not to push your luck inside Empire's perimeter anyway. Let Ada handle gathering the rest of the data."
"Okay. I understand," Elio murmured.
He went to lower the phone, to give his usual quiet sign-off, but his hand froze. The secret had been burning beneath his skin for several days now, a heavy, complicated truth he hadn't dared to share with anyone. But Aris wasn't just his closest confidant; he was a medical doctor. If anyone had a clinical explanation for what was happening to his body, it was him.
He cleared his throat, his steady composure slipping into a rare, awkward hesitation.
"Aris... let me ask you something," Elio started, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa as an unfamiliar flush of heat crept up his collar. "Have you ever seen a case where a mating bite... just doesn't heal? Like, at all."
A beat of absolute silence stretched over the line. Aris's tone instantly sharpened, the relaxed brotherly warmth vanishing as his clinical, protective instincts took over. "Whose mating bite, Elio?"
"Just... something I heard from an acquaintance in the industry," Elio lied, though the falsehood felt clumsy and transparent even to his own ears. "Just answer me. Out of curiosity."
Aris let out a heavy, entirely unconvinced hum, but he answered the question as a physician. "A standard mating mark scabs and begins to fade within forty-eight hours. If the compatibility between the Alpha and Omega is exceptionally high, cellular regeneration accelerates. The secondary gland seals the puncture wounds, turning it into a clean, silver scar within three to five days maximum."
Elio's breath hitched silently. He reached up, his long fingers trembling slightly as they brushed past the silk collar of his shirt. His fingertips pressed gently against the side of his neck, right where Vyn's mark sat. The skin was hot, raised, and intensely tender—still beautifully, agonizingly inflamed.
"And if it hasn't?" Elio asked, his voice dropping an octave, the distance completely melting away. "If it remains inflamed and raw after several days?"
"Then they aren't dealing with a normal dynamic," Aris answered, his tone turning dead serious, an undercurrent of medical concern bleeding into his words.
"When both individuals are higher tiers, the biological friction changes entirely. A permanent state of inflammation means the Alpha's dominant pheromones are actively fighting the Omega's system to completely rewrite their biological code. It's an ongoing claiming surge. The body won't heal the wounds because the Alpha's venom is still actively suppressing the Omega's independent cycle."
Aris paused, the weight of a terrifying realization dropping like an anchor through the line.
"Elio... if a mark stays raw like that, it means the Alpha didn't just bite him. It means he's consumed him entirely. The Omega's system has completely surrendered to him. Who the hell did this to you?"
Elio pulled his fingers away from his neck, looking down at his trembling palm in the amber light. The mark burned against his skin, a fierce, indelible reminder of Vyn's absolute authority—and the terrifying truth that he didn't want the inflammation to ever fade.
"No one did anything to me, Aris," Elio said, his voice dropping back into that smooth, glacial calm. He closed his eyes, forcing his heartbeat to steady so Aris wouldn't catch the slight tremor in his breathing. "I told you, I was just curious."
A heavy, suffocating silence stretched over the line. On the other end, the sound of a keyboard clattering stopped completely. Aris wasn't just a doctor; he knew Elio's schedule, his proximity, and exactly who shared his orbit. When he spoke again, his voice was dangerously low.
"It's Vyn, isn't it?"
Elio's eyes snapped open, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling, as if he could feel the weight of the penthouse directly above his unit. The direct hit fractured his composure, but he didn't elaborate. He simply swallowed the tightness in his throat and gave a quiet, final breath
"Alright, yes… but I'll tell you more soon."
Before Aris could unleash the storm of protective fury building on the other end, Elio murmured a smooth deflection. "Thank you, Aris. And good night."
"Good night, Elio. We'll talk tomorrow, " Aris managed to get out, his tone a mix of exasperation and fond resignation.
Elio tapped the screen, cutting the connection, and tossed the phone onto the cushion beside him.
He looked over at his kitchen island, where the only pieces of his elaborate plan sat waiting.
On the marble counter was a small strawberry cake, its frosting immaculate, and beside it lay a striking bouquet—pure white roses wrapped tightly in heavy, textured matte-black paper. He checked the time, settling in to play the waiting game in the quiet of his unit.
As he waited, his mind drifted back to the call he'd made to Ada just a few days ago. He had always viewed Ada as the older sister he never had, someone who, much like Aris, was a constant, steady force behind him.
"Elio?" Ada's voice had been bright, full of her usual warmth. "It's late, everything okay?"
"I'm fine," Elio had replied, his fingers tracing the edge of his phone. "I just... I needed advice. What do you give someone for their birthday? Someone who already has everything?"
There was a beat of silence on the other end, followed by a low, knowing chuckle. "Someone important, then? You aren't the type to go out of your way for just anyone. Who is he?"
Elio had offered a soft, guarded smile into the empty air. "I'll tell you soon, I promise."
"Fine, fine, keep your secrets," Ada teased, though the playful edge in her voice softened into something earnest. "Since I don't know who this lucky person is, I'll tell you this: make it personal. A cake is a classic for a reason—it's an invitation to share a moment, just the two of you."
She paused, her tone dropping to a gentle, knowing cadence. "But pair it with something that lasts. A bracelet, a necklace... something that stays with that person, keeping a part of you there, even when you aren't."
"A bracelet or a necklace," Elio murmured, letting the idea settle. "Okay. Thank you, Ada."
"Don't you dare think you're getting away with this," she laughed, her voice carrying a playful threat. "You'd better tell me who this person is once the surprise is over!"
"Yeah," Elio had replied, his heart feeling a little lighter. "Thank you so much. Bye."
The memory faded as the present rushed back in. When the clock finally struck twelve, Elio drew a sharp, steadying breath—the sudden flutter in his chest was raw and unfamiliar, a nervous thrill born from the realization that he had never done this for anyone before. With a final glance at the quiet, darkened room, he slipped out of his unit, heading straight for the elevator that would carry him up to Vyn's penthouse.
Stepping out into the quiet, carpeted corridor of the top floor, Elio approached the heavy double doors. He paused, striking a match to light the single candle atop the strawberry cake, watching the golden flame flicker to life and chase away the shadows of the hallway.
Holding the cake carefully in one hand and the bouquet of white roses securely in the other, he leaned forward and hit the doorbell.
The door swung open, and Vyn stood there in his pajamas, his hair slightly messy from a long day. His eyes widened in pure surprise, completely caught off guard by the sight before him.
Before Vyn could even speak, Elio broke into a soft, happy rendition of 'Happy Birthday', his voice low and warm in the quiet hallway. As he sang, he reached out, offering the bouquet of white roses.
Vyn's breath hitched. A brilliant, breathless smile broke across his face as he reached out, his fingers brushing Elio's as he took the flowers. Overjoyed, he stepped back, pulling the door wide to let Elio inside.
As the final note of the song faded into the quiet of the penthouse, Elio looked up at him, his gaze soft and luminous. "Happy 23rd birthday, Vyn," he murmured, his voice a gentle caress. "Now, make a wish..."
Vyn didn't even hesitate. He didn't close his eyes to think; his gaze remained locked entirely on Elio, fierce and completely unguarded. Looking straight at him, he blurted out his wish into the quiet room.
"I wish to stay with you forever." His expression softened, full of deep, raw affection. "Thank you for coming into my life."
With a soft smile, Vyn leaned forward and blew out the single candle, plunging the entryway into the warm, ambient light of the penthouse.
Elio let out a soft laugh, setting the cake and roses down on the table. "You're supposed to say it in your head, silly," he teased gently.
Then he leaned in, giving Vyn a sweet, lingering peck on the lips—longer than a quick smack, full of affection, leaving them both breathless.
They moved over to the sofa, sinking into the plush cushions together. Wanting to give him his proper gift, Elio reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, presenting Vyn with a delicate silver necklace featuring a finely crafted four-leaf clover pendant.
"A clover?" Vyn asked softly, lifting it up as the silver caught the light.
Elio smiled, stepping closer to gently take the pendant. "I saw it and immediately thought of you—it felt like it was meant for you. For good luck, and as a reminder that I'll protect you just as much as you protect me. Now come here and let me put it on you."
Vyn nodded quietly, deeply touched as Elio leaned over, his fingers brushing against Vyn's skin as he helped him fasten the chain around his neck.
The next hour passed in a sweet, happy blur. They sat close on the sofa, eating slices of the strawberry cake together, laughing and sharing quiet, affectionate glances, completely wrapped up in each other's presence.
As the night began to wind down, Vyn shifted closer, turning incredibly clingy as he wrapped his arms tightly around Elio's waist, burying his face into the crook of his neck. "Are you sleeping over?" he asked softly, his voice a low, hopeful murmur.
Elio sighed with genuine regret, leaning his head against Vyn's chest. "No, I can't tonight. I have a scheduled event first thing in the morning, and I still need to prepare for the Charity Gala."
Vyn whined playfully, holding on tighter, his embrace shifting into a shield as if he could physically lock Elio in place. But after a few long seconds, he didn't pull away. Instead, he ducked his head, his face burying into the curve of Elio's neck. He took a long, deep sniff, savoring the scent of Elio's skin, before pressing a slow, warm kiss right to the pulse point on his neck.
The warmth of Vyn's breath against his throat sent a shiver down Elio's spine, a mark of quiet, possessive devotion. Vyn finally pulled back just an inch, his expression softening into one of reluctant, total understanding.
"I know," Vyn murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from Elio's forehead.
Elio smiled at how sweet and understanding he was being, catching Vyn gently by the jaw. He nudged Vyn's chin slightly, a playful spark returning to his eyes. "And don't forget our little beach getaway after the Gala, okay?"
Vyn's smile widened at the reminder, the lingering disappointment of the night fully clearing away. "I won't."
Elio pulled Vyn in for one last, deeply tender kiss, his touch feather-light against Vyn's jaw. He pulled back just an inch, whispering against his lips, "Happy birthday, Vyn. Any final requests?"
Vyn's hand drifted to the silver clover on his chest, his gaze steady and warm. "I don't need anything else," he murmured, his thumb brushing over the cool metal.
"You are the best gift I could ever ask for."
——
The air inside the Onyx Grand Pavilion was thick with the suffocating scent of old money, expensive champagne, and the sharp, underlying metallic sting of industrial-grade scent-blockers.
Outside, the red carpet was a feeding frenzy of camera flashes, capturing the arrival of government ministers, global tech executives, and elite celebrities. It was a masterclass in corporate propaganda—a glittering playground designed to make a ruthless biomedical monopoly look like a humanitarian savior.
The members of ELYS stepped out of their sleek black transport first. To match the old-world elegance of the gala, the agency's styling team had dressed them in customized, monochrome structured suits of deep midnight blue and obsidian. The lapels were accented with subtle, architectural silver thread that caught the flashbulbs like shards of glass. While the overall aesthetic was cohesive, each suit featured distinct, unique variations in cut and detailing tailored to the individual.
Elio, Lucas, Yohan, and Sixth moved with practiced poise, maintaining flawless, aloof expressions for the primary camera pits as reporters shouted from the sides.
Just behind them, the doors of the next vehicle opened to reveal the members of AXIOM. The senior group commanded the space instantly, their individualized outfits creating a rich, high-fashion mix of deep charcoal tones and crimson velvet. Each member wore a completely unique, avant-garde silhouette—ranging from sharp asymmetric tailoring to dramatic, fluid draping.
Dane, Axis, Lee, and Reon stepped onto the carpet with effortless, veteran charisma—but as the media went wild, a familiar, towering figure was noticeably missing from their formation.
Vyn had not arrived with them.
Crossing the threshold into the grand lobby, the sudden, subtle hiss of the overhead ventilation systems signaled their entry into the neutral zone. Elio immediately spotted Joey hurrying over through the crowd. Joey was unusually dressed up for the occasion in a classic, sharp tuxedo, though he was still frantically checking a glowing tablet.
He caught Elio's eye and leaned in, speaking in a low, rushed tone before Elio could even open his mouth. "Vyn hasn't arrived yet, Elio."
Joey knew about their relationship, and in the chaotic, high-pressure environment of Onyx, he didn't mind offering the quick, unprompted reassurance to ease any tension before the performance.
Elio merely tilted his head, offering a smooth, warm smile and a polite nod in response. Joey quickly reminded him that AXIOM would be heading straight to the VIP tables since they weren't performing tonight; the pressure of the opening act rested entirely on ELYS.
Before heading to the wings, the remaining members of AXIOM offered brief, professional nods of encouragement to their juniors, their postures radiating absolute confidence as they bypassed the backstage corridors to take their places in the pavilion hall.
The hall fell into a prestigious silence as the lights dimmed. Ms. Vivian Mercier-Noctis, the formidable CEO of Empire Onyx Entertainment, stepped up to the podium in a stunning, structured emerald gown. Her presence was commanding, a perfect blend of high-society grace and ruthless corporate ambition. She adjusted the microphone, her gaze sweeping over the sea of elite guests before she spoke.
"Good evening, ministers, directors, and esteemed guests," Vivian began, her voice smooth and resonant.
"When Empire Onyx Entertainment was founded, the vision was simple yet absolute—to redefine cultural influence on a global scale. Through rigorous talent cultivation, unyielding standards, and the unmatched strategic backing of the Onyx Group, we did not merely enter the industry—we conquered it. Today, Empire Onyx stands securely as one of the Big 3 entertainment agencies in the country, dictating trends and shaping the future of global icons."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle over the applause from the executives and dignitaries.
"Tonight, as we celebrate the heights of corporate and biological progress, it is my absolute pleasure to introduce the newest testament to our agency's unrivaled standard of excellence. To open tonight's gala, please welcome our pride—ELYS."
The stage lights bled into a deep, atmospheric violet. ELYS took their positions, the ambient, slow-tempo arrangement of their track beginning to swell through the state-of-the-art sound system.
When Elio hit the first note, the heavy murmurs of the elite crowd completely died out.
It was a slow, haunting rendition, driven almost entirely by Elio's deep, angelic vocals. But it was the layered harmony of ELYS that gave the track its terrifying depth; behind Elio's piercing lead, the other members wove an intricate, ethereal backdrop of vocal ad-libs and low, steady hums. The collective tone of the group was rich, clear, and laced with a subconscious, hypnotic frequency that seemed to cut straight through the heavy, mixed pheromones of the pavilion hall, arresting everyone in their seats.
Completely hidden in the shadows of the wings, Vyn stood silent. His piercing gaze was locked entirely on Elio. Every note Elio hit resonated straight through Vyn, anchored by the unyielding bond they shared.
While the group executed their seamless, haunting choreography around him, Elio sang flawlessly, his gaze sweeping over the front-row VIP tables. He looked first to their CEO, Ms. Vie, offering a brief, professional acknowledgment before his eyes shifted to the man sitting beside her—her husband, Sebastian Noctis. Elio studied Sebastian's clinical, polished smile, remaining completely unfazed by the predatory coldness lingering behind the President of Onyx's eyes.
Then, Elio's eyes paused on a charismatically handsome, completely unfamiliar face sitting directly beside the patriarch. Finally, without breaking character or missing a single beat, Elio's gaze settled on the patriarch himself—Chairman Maximillian Mercier. Under the weight of the group's suffocatingly beautiful harmony, Elio held the Chairman's stare, delivering a performance that felt less like entertainment and more like an unspoken challenge.
As the final note faded, the applause from the elite was polite but resounding. ELYS bowed and quietly exited the stage, moving to their assigned tables near the front flank of the hall.
The lights shifted to a brilliant, blinding gold as Chairman Maximillian Mercier walked up to the podium. The air in the room grew heavy, a testament to the sheer, oppressive presence of the man who ruled the Onyx Group.
"Good evening, ministers, executives, and honored guests," Maximillian's booming voice echoed through the grand hall.
"Tonight, we do not just celebrate wealth; we celebrate survival and synchronization. For the past decades, Onyx Biomedical Solutions has been the silent backbone of our nation's stability. We have pioneered the very secondary-gender suppressants and chemical stabilizers that keep our society functioning, ensuring that pheromone presentation disorders and system collapses are no longer a death sentence, but a manageable science."
The crowd nodded, a sea of politicians who had signed the bills campaigning Onyx's monopoly.
"To spearhead this next generation of biological innovation, it is my distinct honor to officially introduce the brilliant mind who has spent the last several years refining the future of our industry," Maximillian continued, his voice resonating with calculated pride.
"While he chose to remain removed from the noise of the public eye, my son has been operating in exclusive research enclaves overseas, collaborating with the world's most elite clinical laboratories to perfect the very heart of our stabilizer technology. It is a profound privilege to welcome him back—not just as my successor, but as the newly appointed Vice President of Onyx Biomedical Solutions—Kael Mercier."
The applause erupted. Kael stood up from the head table, looking like a flawless, cold statue in his tailored tuxedo. The young man's jacket featured an asymmetrical silk lapel that sat like a razor-sharp shadow against his frame, topped with a minimalist platinum crest pinned over his heart. He stepped onto the stage, his expression empty, carrying the mask of the perfect successor.
As Kael approached the microphone to begin his corporate address, the phone in Elio's tight trouser pocket vibrated violently against his thigh. A secure, heavily encrypted notification from Ada flashed on the screen.
Ada: I cracked the restricted archive and finally found it! Just sent you the file.
Elio's heart hammered against his ribs, suffocating him. He stood up abruptly, keeping his head down as the crowd remained fixated on Kael's opening remarks. Elio slipped past the distracted security staff and hurried down the dimly lit VIP corridors, desperately searching for a private place where he could face the truth alone.
He slid into an empty private room. The heavy door clicked shut, sealing him off from the rest of the world. In the absolute quiet, Elio opened the file.
The interface was stark, displaying only a chilling, cold classification stamp at the top of the video recording:
03/15/2020 // ONYX BIOMED // SUBJECT: SA-00127.
The clip began to play. The visual was a masterclass in clinical sadism. The young man had been systematically hollowed out. His skin was a ghostly, translucent grey, pulled so violently tight over a fracturing skeletal frame that the edges of his collarbones looked ready to puncture the flesh. Thick, black-purple veins spiderwebbed explosively across his neck and jawline, the skin raw, weeping, and heavily bruised where jagged extraction needles were permanently bored directly into his pulsing scent glands.
His face was a mask of pure agony. A steady stream of dark, sluggish blood dripped from his nose, painting his lips and chin in a crusty, iron-scented stain. But his eyes held the true horror: his pupils were blown wide and glassy, fixed in a blank, unfocused stare, while the whites were completely saturated with blood from ruptured capillaries. Thin trickles of crimson wept from his tear ducts, tracking down his hollow cheeks like bloody tears. He stared into the camera lens with the empty, shattered expression of someone whose mind had long since retreated from the pain.
The process on screen was nothing short of savage—a brutal, deep-tissue dismantling of his biology. He was being stripped of everything that made him an Apex. With his scent and presence violently liquidated, the young man no longer looked like a person; he looked like a discarded, broken thing. He was suffering from a terminal Neuro-Endocrine Collapse. His spine arched in erratic, sickening jolts as his body seized, struggling to pump as his system choked, starved of the very hormones needed to keep his heart beating.
Over the audio, a researcher's pen clicked rhythmically. A voice droned on with flat, nauseating indifference, casually logging data points about "fluid viscosity" and "optimal yield," completely unmoved by the wet, choking gasps of the human specimen. On the monitor, his vitals flickered in a jagged, dangerously shallow rhythm—his heart was failing, but he was not dead yet, his body trapped in a brutal, desperate struggle to survive on the absolute brink of collapse.
Pure horror coiled tight in Elio's gut, a cold, sickening ache that made his vision blur. His eyes widened, tracking the horrific details on the screen until the truth fractured his reality.
"Lu...cian..."
The name of his older brother choked out of him, a broken, desperate gasp.
The agony wasn't just in his mind; it was clawing its way into his marrow. As Elio watched the clinical, indifferent torture on the screen, his own skin began to burn with a feverish intensity. He clawed at the fabric of his collar, gasping for air that felt too thin to breathe, while his pulse hammered a frantic, uneven rhythm against his throat. His body felt like a pressurized cage, his veins throbbing with a dark, surging heat that refused to be contained.
Instantly, his knees gave out, and he slid heavily onto the cold floor. He slammed his hand over his mouth, trying to trap the agonizing wail that followed, his entire frame convulsing.
It felt impossible. The hollowed-out carcass on the screen was supposed to be Lucian—an S-Class Alpha who had always been so bright, radiant, and fiercely full of life. Elio's brain couldn't handle it; he kept flashing back to when they were kids, seeing a twelve-year-old Lucian laughing as he chased a nine-year-old Elio through the weeds in the children's home yard on a summer day.
But the screen flickered, dragging him back to the underground chill. The brother who possessed that vital, unstoppable warmth was being systematically erased. The cold, mechanical hum of the laboratory morphed in Elio's ears, suddenly carrying the heavy, breaking voice of a sixteen-year-old Lucian holding him tight at the gates of the home. His brother's eyes had been burning with the fierce determination of a boy finally chasing his biggest dream of becoming an idol trainee, convinced it was the only way to build a real future for them both.
The extraction pumps whirred louder, violently tearing the memory away. Tears streamed heavily down Elio's face, blurring the clinical horror into a smear of silver light. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the dark behind his eyelids only dragged him down into a memory from when he was thirteen, a day his sensory disorder had flared so violently that the world felt like shattering glass.
In the middle of that terrifying mental noise, a thirteen-year-old Elio had been rocking back and forth, drowning in the spikes of his own mind. But then Lucian had knelt directly in front of him, blocking out the chaos. He took Elio's trembling hands and firmly pressed a rough sunstone into his palms.
Before Elio could pull away, Lucian guided his hands upward, lifting the raw stone directly into a beam of afternoon sunlight cutting through the window.
"El, look at this… a beautiful light doesn't come from a perfect surface," Lucian said softly, his voice a steady, soothing whisper that managed to pierce through the painful spikes.
He tilted the stone slightly, making the brilliant, golden light catch the deepest internal fractures of the rock, sending bright, dancing shimmers across Elio's tear-stained face. "It comes from the fractures inside."
Lucian then closed Elio's fingers tightly around the warm stone, leaning his forehead against his younger brother's. "So don't be scared of the noise. Your big brother will always be here to protect you, El. Always."
Lucian was his light—his shield, his anchor, and the steady pulse of his courage.
Those words had anchored him then. But as the memory dissolved, it left behind only the cold, jagged reality of the video. It was a heartbreaking, all-consuming grief—a silent scream that tore his lungs apart as he watched that brilliant, fiercely protective light being violently, permanently extinguished.
The visual on the screen struck something deep within his core—a fatal, soul-splitting blow that rippled down into his very marrow. Elio didn't just feel it; he shattered under it. He could not comprehend the sudden, violent unraveling of his body, only that the sheer, crushing weight of the trauma had driven a wedge straight into his tightly suppressed biology, splitting his spirit wide open.
He gasped, but his throat burned with something far older than his own pain.
Without his understanding, the hidden truth locked beneath his genes began to bleed through the cracks. It didn't merely leak; it surged. It erupted from his skin like an ancient, dark tide, flooding the senses first with the sharp, biting haze of smoked cardamom, which then deepened into a thick, oppressive swell of sun-warmed amber and dark, lethal oud.
The air in the room grew thick, turning heavy with a predatory weight that shouldn't have been possible. It wasn't just a scent anymore; it was an absolute pressure. His own body buckled under the force of it, his bones aching as something deep inside him violently cracked open and reshaped itself.
Through the hot blur of his tears, a sharp, burning needle of heat flared behind his left eyelid.
Elio gasped, his hand shaking so violently that he nearly dropped his phone. On the screen, the horrific video finally cut out, the display fading into a stark, glossy black.
As the light died, Elio caught his own reflection in the dead glass.
He froze. The boy who had walked into the room was gone.
His right eye remained a grief-stricken black. But his left iris had mutated entirely. It had bled into a sharp, luminous, icy blue that bordered on a freezing winter gray. It was a glacial, terrifying gaze that stripped the warmth right out of his face, shining back at him from the dark glass with an absolute, lethal authority that felt completely alien to any Alpha lineage.
Elio reached up, his trembling fingers hovering just over his cheekbone. He stared into the glass in total, uncomprehending shock, completely unaware of the terrifying power his grief had just unlocked.