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Chapter Text

Marlin Geward tugged the flaps of his jacket close against the chilly night air. The soles of his new oxfords slapped the sidewalk loudly in his brisk pace, and his keys jangled in his pocket. He tucked his hands under his armpits to warm them as he passed by a bus station and turned off the sidewalk into a wide alley. His brother Donavan always told the same cynical joke about how he would one day be mugged or murdered in that alley, but Marlin had been taking this route home from work for years, and the closest thing he’d had to a mugging was a homeless guy asking for cash.

Marlin was passing under a fire escape halfway down the alley when he heard a burst of rapid footsteps behind him, accompanied by a scratchy voice.

“Hey, man, got a second? I just need some directions real quick.”

Marlin froze, and the first thought that flashed across his mind was, “Shit, Donavan was right.” He quickly came to his senses and turned around to face the man who’d addressed him. What were the odds that this was a mugging? Maybe it was just another homeless guy. He probably wanted directions to the nearest mission, or maybe a ride to the clinic.

“No problem. Where you headed?” he asked, forcing a friendly smile.

His smile wavered as the guy jogged up to him. He was wearing baggy jeans and a dirty hoodie, and his gaunt face was shadowed by scruffy stubble. He had “junkie” written all over him. Nonetheless, Marlin held his ground.

His resolve collapsed when the man reached under his hoodie and pulled a gun from his waistband.

Marlin put his hands up without hesitation and said, “Hey, man, chill. I’m not looking for trouble. I’m just trying to get home.”

“You’re obviously in some kind of trouble, because some rich jackoff down the street is paying me to nab you,” the mugger snapped. He gestured to Marlin’s coat and demanded, “Wallet. Now.”

“Alright, just relax. If we could talk this out—”

“I said give me your fucking wallet!”

“I know, I’m getting it. Just give me a second.”

Marlin’s hands shook as he pulled his wallet from his pocket. He pulled out the only cash he had—two twenties and a few crumpled ones—and said, “This is all I’ve got, man.”

“Just give me the fucking thing,” the mugger demanded, thrusting out his free hand.

Marlin hesitated, taking a moment to weigh his options. “What are the odds?” he asked himself silently. It was risky, but he had no other choice.

“How about I give you this instead?” he offered.

He woged, his skin rippling and his body convulsing as he put his Luisant-Pêcheur face on full display.

The mugger did not scream, faint, or shoot. He sneered and, to Marlin’s horror, woged into a Skalengeck.

“Nice try, dumbass,” he hissed.

“Jesus, okay, I—here, it’s right here. Please, just don’t hurt me,” Marlin whimpered.

He tossed his wallet onto the ground at the Skalengeck’s feet and raised his furry hands in surrender. The Skalengeck crouched to grab the wallet, keeping the gun trained on Marlin, who didn’t dare move to attack.

Suddenly, before the Skalengeck had time to even look up, a dark blur lunged towards him from the shadows. It happened too fast for Marlin to comprehend. He heard a metallic swish, a wet squelch, and then, right before his eyes, the Skalengeck’s head rolled off his shoulders and tumbled to the ground. His body fell less than a foot away from Marlin’s wallet.

All Marlin could do was stare, mouth agape, eyes bulging. When his brain finally caught up to what had happened, he stumbled back with a yell. He ordered his legs to run, but they were clumsy and slow, and he tripped over his own feet in his attempt to flee. He fell flat on his face, scraping his chin on the rough pavement.

As he pushed himself up to his hands and knees, a shadow fell over him, blotting out the moonlight. He looked up to see a tall, lean man standing over him. He was dressed entirely in black, accentuating his ghostly pale skin. A mane of ivory hair was tied in a long, loose braid, draping over his shoulder. Marlin was momentarily transfixed by his exotic beauty, but then the man took off his sunglasses, and Marlin noticed his eyes: black, blacker than black, reflecting Marlin’s Wesen face like a dark mirror.

The man spoke up, breaking the taut silence with his smooth, sultry voice.

“Sorry for the trouble, but two heads are better than one.”

He turned his wrist, and the blade of a sword gleamed in the moonlight. It was long, razor-sharp, and splattered with fresh blood.

“Wait—” Marlin started, throwing his hands up, but he didn’t get past the first word. The last thing he heard was that same metallic swish.

A chilly breeze drifted through the alley, scattering leaves and fluttering a stack of loose newspapers. The Grimm stared down at the fresh bodies for a long minute, then slung a canvas bag off his shoulder and moved to collect the heads.

He pulled a paintbrush from the inner pocket of his coat, stooped over Marlin Geward’s body, and delicately dabbed the brush in the growing pool of blood. Once the bristles were thoroughly coated, he rose and strode to a nearby dumpster. He selected a blank patch of wall beside it and began to paint with cool, practiced precision. A curve here, a slash there, and a few more smooth strokes before he stepped back to examine his work. His platinum hair gleamed silver in the moonlight; his icy blue eyes roved over the message he’d painted.

A smirk crossed his lips, and he murmured, “Let the games begin.”

*****

Nick stood at the kitchen sink, intently scrubbing a large saucepan. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his front was drenched in soapy water. He wore a purple apron embroidered with blue daisies (a Christmas present from Diana, which had come with a set of matching potholders) and it, too, was splashed from top to bottom.

When Nick finished the pan, he set it aside to dry on a dish towel that was spread out on the counter. As he moved to the other dishes in the sink, a pair of long arms snaked around his middle, and warm lips crept along the curve of his neck.

“Food’s on the counter,” Nick stated. Despite his casual tone, a smile danced across his face and a light blush arose on his cheeks. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I wish you had,” Alexander purred, tugging Nick’s collar aside to kiss his shoulder.

“Seriously, you need to eat something,” Nick said. He disentangled himself from the dishes and turned to face his lover.

“I will,” Alexander promised. Instead of acting on said promise, he pulled Nick closer and kissed him.

Nick allowed it, but insisted between kisses, “Your flight leaves in a few hours, so unless you’re good with airport snacks and plane meals, you should eat. There’s bacon and toast on the counter.”

“That’s awfully generous of you.”

“What can I say? I’m a generous person.”

“No, you’re not. You’re selfish and terrible. Despicable. Absolutely wicked,” Alexander teased, brushing his lips along Nick’s jaw.

“Better not eat the food, then. I probably poisoned it.”

“Mm. Nefarious Grimm.”

Alexander didn’t move from where he stood, having apparently elected to ignore the freshly made food. He cupped Nick’s neck and nipped at the softer, more sensitive spots on his throat, the spots that always made Nick’s toes curl.

Nick, too, decided that breakfast could wait. He wrapped his arms around Alexander’s waist and pulled him closer, slid his hands down to squeeze his toned ass. Ordinarily, Alexander might have berated Nick for feeling him up with dish-soapy hands when he was showered and dressed, but he was too distracted to notice now. Naturally, Nick took the opportunity to spread the infernal soap water over as much surface area as he could reach.

Before any clothes had the chance to come off, Nick’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his back pocket with a sigh.

“It’s Hank,” he said flatly.

“Take it, then. It could be important.”

Nick answered the call. It took concentrated effort to keep his voice steady as Alexander launched a savage assault on his neck, one that would undoubtedly leave a mess of hickeys.

“Hey, Hank, what’s up?”

“We’ve got a call. Two bodies in an alley. Wu was first on the scene; he said it’s a rough one.”

“I’m on my way. What’s the address?”

Hank rattled off the location, and Nick hung up. Alexander was thoroughly Velcro-ed to him, so it took close to a minute for Nick to peel their bodies apart. After hanging up his apron and neatening his clothes—and suffering through the inevitable scolding about soaking Alexander’s nice suit—he was at last heading for the elevator, jacket in hand.

As he stepped inside, he turned and said over his shoulder, “I probably won’t be back before you leave, so. . . see you when I see you, I guess.”

“I’ll see what I can arrange for next time,” Alexander promised. They exchanged curt nods, and then Nick headed down to the garage and sped off to the address Hank had given him.

*****

“What have we got?” Nick asked as he strode to the crime scene.

“Two Caucasian males. The first we identified as Raff Taeger, the second as Marlin Geward. Both are in the system, but for very different reasons,” Wu reported, leading Nick and Hank down a wide alley.

Nick sucked in a sharp breath at the sight they were met with. The first man, Taeger, was sprawled on the ground face-down. His right hand was wrapped loosely around a gun. The second man, Geward, lay further down the alley, flat on his back. A blood-stained wallet lay open on the ground between the two. Both bodies were cleanly decapitated.

“Like I said, this one’s rough.”

 “I can see that,” Nick stated.

“We’re still trying to piece together the story. What are your thoughts?”

Nick circled Taeger, studying the gun. He turned his attention to Geward, then to the open wallet. He moved to stand where Taeger might have stood before he fell, then walked over to Geward’s spot. After mentally arranging the details into a workable scenario, he returned to Hank’s side.

“Maybe one crime interrupted another. Taeger comes at Geward with a gun; Geward doesn’t want trouble, so he hands over his wallet; both are killed by a third party. Some vigilante justice, maybe?”

“That would check out. Taeger’s got quite the rap sheet: aggravated assault, armed robbery, DUIs, and misdemeanors up the gumpstump. Geward’s got a couple of traffic violations, but other than that, he’s clean as a whistle.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Nick’s theory fit for the most part, but there was one gaping hole in the middle of it.

“But if this was a vigilante, why kill the guy he was defending?” Hank mused, having apparently had the same thought.

“Exactly,” Nick agreed. “There’s got to be a bigger picture here. What else do we have? Is there any concrete evidence of a third party?”

Wu lifted an eyebrow. “You could call it that.”

He led them a ways down the alley, past both bodies, to a large dumpster covered in colorful graffiti. When they rounded the corner, Nick and Hank exchanged a wary look.

Painted in blood on the wall of the alley was a Sterbestunde G.

Wu looked sideways at Nick and Hank. “Is it too much to hope that this is a run-of-the-mill human psychopath?”

“I wish,” Nick snorted.

“Wesen?”

“Yes and no,” Hank said, shooting Nick an uncomfortable look.

“You guys have seen this before?”

“Yeah. Do you remember Ryan?”

“That intern who tried to kill Bud? Is this the same symbol he used?”

“Yup.”

While the forensics team moved in to clean up the bodies, Hank and Wu huddled around Nick, who recounted the Wesen lore about Endezeichen Grimms. He included the detail that Ryan wasn’t actually a Grimm, but a Lebensauger, which led to a whole separate Wesen explanation. Once they got through that, they circled back to the G on the wall.

“I’ll check for surveillance in the area,” Wu declared, leaving Nick and Hank to study the grisly symbol.

“Everyone says these guys are supposed to be ancient history.” Nick scoffed without a trace of real humor. “We’ve had two of them in the same city now, just a few years apart. What are the odds of that?”

“Ryan wasn’t really a Grimm, though. So, I think a better question would be: are we dealing with another Ryan? Or is this guy legit?”

The first option was bad. The second was worse. Nick met Hank’s eyes, then stared long and hard at the G.

Whether this Grimm was legit or not, things could get ugly fast. His friends’ faces flashed through his mind: Monroe, Rosalee, Adalind. Kelly and Diana. Alexander. Ryan had idolized and stalked Nick, and tried to kill Bud just for talking to him. These two alley murders indicated that this Grimm had their own agenda, but what if they decided to target him? What if they targeted his friends? What if they found out he was co-parenting with a Hexenbiest?

Alexander was an agent of the Wesen Council. What if this Grimm went after him?

Nick stamped down the knot of fear in his gut and said, “Press will be here soon. When Renard finds out, he’ll probably want to make a public address about it like he did last time.”

He pulled out his cell phone and snapped a picture of the bloody scrawl, then turned on his heel and strode back out to the street. “People are going to panic. Let’s see what we can find out before that happens.”

*****

Alexander was just leaving Nick’s loft when his cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket with an irritated huff, but his annoyance was replaced by a bubble of fondness when he saw that it was Nick. It was oddly invigorating, having a Grimm listed in his contacts—almost as invigorating as having the same Grimm as a lover.

“Nick,” he greeted brightly, but Nick cut in before he could say anything else.

“Alexander, where are you?”

“I’m—” Alexander paused, blinking in surprise at the urgency in Nick’s tone. “I was just leaving. I’m in the garage. Is something wrong?”

“Yes. Probably. Maybe? I don’t know. You know the case I got called in for this morning?”

“What of it?”

“We think there might be an Endezeichen Grimm in Portland.”

For a moment, Alexander was sure his heart stopped. He took a deep breath and asked, “Are you certain?”

“No.”

“The Endezeichen have been obsolete for centuries.”

“I know, but we had another case like this a few years back. That guy turned out to be a crazy Lebensauger—long story, don’t ask—but my point is, I have no idea what to think. We’re still early in the investigation, so all we know for sure is that someone is running around Portland chopping heads off and leaving Sterbestunde Gs.”

Alexander felt faint. All the blood had drained from his face, and his mouth was painfully dry. Logically, he knew he had nothing to fear. No one except De Groot knew he was in Portland, and no one in Portland knew who he was. He had excellent control over his woge, so there was no risk of this [alleged] Endezeichen Grimm spotting him on the street. He had no rational reason to be afraid.

While Alexander wrestled with his panic, Nick continued, “I’m not asking you to stay. I actually think it would be safer for you to leave. Just. . . be careful on your way out, okay? Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise,” Alexander conceded. The anxiety in Nick’s voice was disquieting.

“Thank you,” Nick said with a sigh. “Bye.”

“Goodbye, Nick.”

The receiver clicked, and Alexander dropped his arm to his side, the phone still clutched in his hand. By force of habit, his face slipped into the emotionless, impersonal mask he so often wore. He stood in the garage beside his SUV, unmoving, for two whole minutes, Nick’s words echoing through his head in a disjointed loop.

Was it conceited to wonder if the Endezeichen was after him? It wouldn’t be the first threat made against his life. Council affiliates were targeted predictably often, though less so since they’d reestablished themselves in Schwarzkralle’s absence. Still, could someone truly consider Alexander important enough to send an Endezeichen Grimm after him? He found it hard to believe, but he had amassed his fair share of enemies in his years serving the Council.

The only other likely possibility was that the Endezeichen was here for Nick.

As a Grimm—even a most unconventional one—and a cop, Nick undoubtedly had more active enemies than all of the Council members combined. There were plenty of Wesen willing to pick a fight with a Grimm, but would someone really be desperate or vengeful enough to contract an Endezeichen? Royals, perhaps. It wouldn’t be a shock, given Nick’s tumultuous history with them. But what if this Endezeichen was acting alone? Might they take personal offense to Nick’s working relationship with the Wesen community?

Regardless of the context, a Grimm hunting another Grimm was unheard of—although, Alexander reflected, if that was the case, they were really hunting each other now. One sought to kill, the other sought to arrest. It was almost funny, in a macabre sort of way.

Before he knew he’d made a decision, Alexander was scrolling through his contacts and lifting the phone to his ear. De Groot picked up on the second ring.

“Alexander. All is well with our Grimm, I trust?”

“There’s been a development.” Even over the phone, Alexander could sense De Groot’s immediate shift in mood.

“Is something amiss?”

Alexander recounted what Nick had told him, including the mention of the previous Endezeichen case. When he finished, De Groot was quiet for a long time.

Alexander hesitantly asked, “Do you still want me to return to The Hague?”

“No,” De Groot said after a moment of thought. “Extend your stay until the situation is resolved. Stay close to Burkhardt. Observe, but do not engage. If there are any further developments, report them to me at once.”

“Of course.”

De Groot hung up, and Alexander pocketed his phone. He rode the elevator back up to the loft, making a mental note to call his vehicle rental company and request an extension. Once he was safely back inside, he shrugged off his overcoat and settled down to wait for Nick.

*****

When Nick walked into the bullpen, he spotted Wu standing by Hank’s desk. They were engaged in a hushed, heated conversation. They looked up as Nick approached, and their devious smirks stopped him in his tracks.

“What are we whispering about?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That depends,” Wu said with a shrug. “What was that oh-so-necessary private conversation about?”

“And since when do you have private conversations without us?” added Hank.

Nick rolled his eyes and started, “It wasn’t anything important. I—”

“Since when does anything happen in your life that we don’t immediately know about?” Wu pressed.

“We know all your friends, and they know us.”

“Unless, of course, you weren’t calling a friend.”

“But who else could you be calling?” Hank grinned, leaned back in his chair, and finished, “Who could a strapping young-ish bachelor like yourself possibly be talking to in private?”

Nick internally panicked for a second, but fixed his face into a wry smirk and plunked down into his chair, doing his best to act natural.

There was no way they knew. There was no way they could guess. Neither of them even knew he liked men.

“What’s her name?” Wu asked.

“It’s nowhere close to official,” Nick admitted. That much was true.

“Name,” Hank demanded, jabbing his arm with a pen.

“I’ll give you a name if it turns into anything more than what it is now,” Nick promised, waving Hank away and crossing his arms. “But that might not even happen. At this point, I’m not sure it’s possible for me to have a long-term relationship without catastrophic consequences. We’ve both agreed to keep it under wraps until we decide how we want to move forward—if we want to move forward.”

Again, all of that was the truth. As long as he could skim the details, he wouldn’t have to blatantly lie to Hank and Wu. He’d never get away with that. They knew him too well.

It occurred to Nick then that this was the longest he’d ever kept a secret from his friends.

Hank and Wu didn’t know. Renard and Adalind didn’t know. Eve and Trubel didn’t know. Nick certainly hadn’t told Bud, because then the whole city would know. Monroe and Rosalee knew about his first fraught hookup with Alexander (that didn’t count, they’d agreed; a Totliebhaber had spiked them both with raging pheromones), but they didn’t know that Alexander had been regularly sneaking back into Portland since then.

The affair had been going on for well over two months, and not one of Nick’s friends knew.

“Fine. Keep your secrets,” Wu said shortly. He nodded to Hank’s computer and stated, “We pulled up the backgrounds on Taeger and Geward. You interested?”

“Talk to me.” Nick rolled his chair to Hank’s side, eager to change the subject.

Hank pulled up pictures of the two men and explained, “It’s like Wu said: Taeger’s a regular offender, Geward’s mostly clean. If you ignore the severed heads, it just looks like your standard back-alley mugging.”

“Either of them have friends or family in the area?”

“Taeger has a roommate, Lenny Kyle. Former cellmate, equally busy guy. Geward has an older brother, Donavan. He lives in the Pearl.” Hank glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot, then leaned in and said in a low voice, “I was just thinking, what if you were right about the robbery? Think about it: if Taeger and Geward were Wesen, and one mugged the other, they might have woged. Stressful situation on both ends, right? And if our killer is an Endezeichen Grimm, or imitating one, then—”

“Then when he saw that they were Wesen, he would have killed them both regardless of the circumstances,” Nick finished. He nibbled the end of his pen and countered with a frown, “But what are the odds of that? That an Endezeichen Grimm just happened to be walking past that exact alley at that exact moment? If it wasn’t a setup, then it was a pretty spectacular coincidence. No, something else is going on here. What are we missing?”

Before he had time to mull it over further, a friendly, round-faced secretary shuffled up to his desk, lugging a large box.

“Got a package for you, Burkhardt,” she panted, dumping the box on Nick’s desk. He wheeled his chair over and inspected it with a furrowed brow.

 “Who’s it from?”

“Some guy dropped it off, said his name was Raff Taeger. Ringing any bells?”

Nick’s hands froze, hovering over the box. He exchanged a dark look with Hank and Wu, who were both equally alert.

“Wu, get the captain. Hank, clear the room.”

The secretary wrung her hands and nervously asked, “Is something wrong?”

“You need to leave.” Nick didn’t elaborate.

The secretary’s eyes widened, and she gave the box a look of betrayal before fleeing the room. Whispers spread around the bullpen, and tension laced the air as Hank’s orders to clear the vicinity were passed around. Nick heard Renard’s office door open, but he didn’t move from where he stood. He had eyes only for the box in front of him. His ears picked up the familiar cadence of Renard’s footsteps as he approached.

“What is this? Who’s it from?” Renard demanded.

“Apparently,” Nick said, cautiously slicing open the packing tape, “it’s from one of the dead men we’re investigating.” He paused, hands poised on the flaps, and added under his breath, “We think it’s Endezeichen.”

Renard said nothing. When he didn’t move to intervene, Nick slowly opened the box. Inside was a canvas bag, stained dark and damp at the bottom. It was pulled shut with a drawstring, and a slim silver chain was tied around it—a necklace. With trembling hands, Nick untangled the chain, tugged the drawstring loose, and opened the bag.

A pair of severed heads gaped up at him. Nick recognized them right away as Taeger and Geward. Behind him, Renard sucked in a sharp breath, but Nick paid him no mind. He instead turned his attention to the necklace, draping it over his palm to inspect it. A lone pendant dangled from the chain, a thin silver disk stamped with a stylized V.

The realization crashed over him like a tidal wave. He felt lightheaded; he might have fainted if he hadn’t been gripping the edge of his desk with one white-knuckled hand.

He hadn’t spared him a single thought in years. He hadn’t even dared to speak his name.

“I know who it is,” he said at last, his voice croaking out barely above a whisper.

“What do you mean?” Renard asked, inching closer.

Nick swallowed hard, steeled his voice, and declared, “The Endezeichen Grimm—I know who he is.”

Chapter Text

Nick walked stiffly into Renard’s office, Hank trailing behind him. Renard shut the door with unnecessary force and moved to stand in front of his desk.

“You mind explaining what the hell that was?” he demanded, looking right at Nick.

Nick glanced at Hank for backup, but his partner was watching him with the same wary confusion. Realizing he had no choice but to come clean, he took a deep breath and began with the killings.

“This morning, Hank and I were called to investigate two murders. They were both decapitated in an alleyway, and a Sterbestunde G was painted on the wall in blood.”

“So we do have another Endezeichen,” Renard said gravely.

“That’s what we’re thinking.”

An old memory flashed across Nick’s mind: a map of tattoos covering a pale, toned chest; an embossed web of strange shapes and runic writing; and in the center of the mix, right over his heart, a calligraphic G stylized to look like a skull.

He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. He hadn’t known. It was years ago, long before he was a Grimm, long before he’d settled down in Portland, long before he’d ever heard the word “Wesen”.

He rubbed his jaw and murmured, “He had a tattoo. . .”

“You’re saying ‘he’ like you know him. Who is he?” Renard demanded.

“The heads are already on their way to the M.E. Maybe they can find some prints,” Hank suggested. “Ryan was bad, but it’s looking like this guy is the real deal. If we can at least get a name—”

“His name,” Nick interrupted, silencing Hank, “is Luke. Luke Verosik.”

Renard abruptly straightened. “You know about the Verosiks? I thought you didn’t know any other Grimms besides Trubel, your mother, and your aunt.”

“I met him before I knew. It was. . . I don’t even know how many years ago. I was living in New York at the time, still in uniform. I haven’t thought about it in a while. How do you know about them?”

“Anyone who knows anything about Wesen politics knows about the Verosik family,” Renard snorted, crossing his arms. “They’re all Grimms; that’s what they’re known for. They weren’t unlike the Royals in reputation, until about fifteen years ago, when most of the inner circle was taken down in a massive sting operation. The survivors bounced back from it, and they’re still in business today, but they’re not as widespread or prominent as they were back then. You weren’t involved in that, were you?”

“Yes. Well, not really. Sort of? There was a lot going on at once.” Nick shook his head and bitterly muttered, “Why didn’t I put it together sooner?”

Hank and Renard exchanged a tense look. Hank leaned in and hesitantly asked, “How well did you know this guy, Nick? You weren’t friends or something, were you?”

“We were. . . I was. . . it’s complicated,” Nick stammered, crossing his arms tightly. “It was a long time ago.”

They’d been so much more than friends, but that wasn’t a conversation Nick was ready to have.

“Do you have a way to get in contact with him?” Renard asked.

“No, but we need to make this public. If he’s killed this way once, he’ll do it again. We need to warn as many people as possible before he targets someone new.”

“Alright. I’ll set up a press conference, but I won’t include Luke’s identity until we have some concrete evidence that he’s involved. If the Verosiks really did have a hand in this—"

“They did have a hand in it, and he is involved,” Nick insisted.

Renard held up a hand, cutting him off. “We need more than your sole testimony if we’re going to prove that in court.”

The three of them looked up when someone knocked on the door. Wu stepped into the office with a tablet in hand.

“Do my ears detect a need for evidence?” he asked. “Because we’ve got surveillance. Pulled it from a bank across the street.”

“Play it,” Renard ordered, moving aside so Wu could set up the tablet on the desk.

The footage displayed a clear view of the street, with the mouth of the alley fully visible on the left side of the screen, right beside a bus stop. Wu fast-forwarded through the day, then paused when Marlin Geward strolled into the frame. 

“There’s Geward,” he stated.

He let the tape roll for a few seconds. Marlin turned the corner of the alley and disappeared. Shortly after him came Raff Taeger, crossing the frame at a brisk stride. He glanced around suspiciously before he, too, turned the corner. Another ten seconds passed. Then a bus rolled up to the stop, obscuring the alleyway and the buildings on either side of it. No one was waiting to get on, so it trundled away after a few short minutes. Right as the alley came back into view, the footage turned to static.

“What the hell?” Hank muttered, tapping the screen, but Wu smacked his hand away.

“The footage is scrambled for the next fourteen seconds. Take a look.”

Sure enough, fourteen seconds later, the street view returned as if nothing had happened. The bus was gone, and the street was empty.

Wu set the tablet down with an air of finality and declared, “Nobody else passed through that area between then and when the bodies were found. The alley empties out onto a side street next to a construction zone, so if the killer came in or left through there, we’re not going to see him. There are no cameras on that side.”

“Play the bus part again,” Nick said, waving his hand adamantly at the screen.

“Gotcha.”

Wu replayed the requested footage. Nick took in every inch of the frame, searching for something, anything. Then, right as the bus was moving away, right before the footage would predictably fuzz out, he saw it.

“Stop. Go back.”

Wu did as he was told, and Nick reached over to pause the video himself on the final clear frame. He snatched the tablet, ignoring Wu’s indignant grunt, and held it so close to his face that the tip of his nose almost touched the screen.

His eyes widened. His lips parted with a sharp gasp. He all but threw the tablet back down on the desk and smacked the screen.

“Right there,” he said tersely. “Between the bus and the edge of the frame, just down the sidewalk from where the alley opens up.”

Renard, Hank, and Wu huddled in close to see where he was pointing. Barely visible in the fuzzy image, nearly hidden behind the bus, a lone man was walking down the sidewalk. He was tall and lanky, with a long braid of white-blond hair, a staple of the Verosik genes. A fitted black coat hung to his knees, and the open flaps flared behind him like a cape. His face was lovely, sculpted with androgynous beauty, and Nick knew in spite of the fuzzy screen that his eyes were the clearest, iciest shade of blue imaginable.

“That’s Luke?” Hank asked.

“That’s him,” Nick confirmed, staring hard at the blurry image.

He knew how it felt to run his fingers through that silky blond hair. He knew how it felt to slide his hands over every inch of that impossibly perfect face and body. He knew how it felt to fall asleep with those long arms wrapped around him and those graceful legs tangled with his beneath the sheets. He remembered how it sounded when those soft lips whispered “I love you” in his ear and gasped his name in the dark. Those sensations were memories he’d buried long ago and had hoped to never uncover.

Nick steadied his nerves and turned back to Renard. “I get that you don’t want to make his name public yet, but can we get a few prints of this picture? I want to spread it around. Monroe and Rosalee are pretty well-connected, and Bud knows a lot of people, too. The Wesen community needs to know what’s going on.”

“Do what you have to do, but if anyone asks, the picture didn’t come from here. Is there any way you can reach out to your old precinct in Brooklyn and get the files from that case?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good. Keep me in the loop.” Renard looked at all three of them in turn and added, “Listen, I know none of you trust me the way you did before Black Claw—”

“We didn’t trust you much before Black Claw, either, so it’s not a huge loss,” Hank pointed out.

Ignoring the jab, Renard continued, “We’ll need to work closely on this case, like we used to. Show me what you come up with by this evening, and we’ll decide where to go from there. We can’t afford to be enemies again.”

Hank and Wu shared a dubious look, then “Yes, sir” -ed and left the office. Nick started to follow, but stilled with one hand on the door when Renard stopped him.

“Nick, would you stay a minute?”

Hank met Nick’s eyes, silently asking if backup was needed. Nick sighed and shook his head. Hank reluctantly complied, turning away and leaving Nick at Renard’s mercy. Nick stepped back into the office, shut the door, and glared at his captain.

“What do you want?” he snapped, not bothering to remain cordial now that they were alone.

“I know our relationship will never be what it once was, even with Kelly and Diana in the picture.”

“Nope,” Nick agreed.

“But like I said, we’re going to have to work together on this one, and probably again in future cases. We were a good team, Nick. It’ll take time, but if you can learn to trust me again, it would benefit both of us.”

“I’m sure it would,” Nick concurred with a nod. The ensuing silence spoke volumes.

Since Zerstorer, the tension between Renard and the rest of the group had waned, especially as he, Adalind, and Nick settled into a regular routine of child exchange. He and Nick were still far from friends (civilized avoidance of each other was a good day), but neither of them considered the other a mortal enemy.

There was a time when Nick had harbored a guilty attraction for Renard, and he was almost certain that his captain had developed similar feelings in return. Even now, in spite of the lingering animosity, he occasionally caught Renard stealing remorseful glances at him from across the bullpen. He’d also been making a noticeable effort to repair the rift with small acts of workplace courtesy such as volunteering to pick up coffee, lightening Nick’s paperwork load, and offering overtime pay for projects Nick might have taken on without extra compensation in the past.

If it wasn’t for everything that had happened under Black Claw’s brief but bloody reign, Renard might have ended up where Alexander was now. But all possibility of such an affair was long dead, and they both knew it.

“Nick—” Renard began, but Nick cut him off.

“I’ll have Wu send you a report of everything we can come up with. Until then, you know where to find me.”

Without another word, he strode from the office. Renard didn’t stop him again.

When Nick returned to his desk, Hank wasted no time leaning in and whispering, “What was that about?”

“Just more bullshit about trusting each other,” Nick grumbled.

“Look, I don’t trust the captain further than I can throw him, but he has a point. If our killer is as serious as you seem to think he is, we can’t do this alone.”

“I know.” Nick sighed and rubbed his temples. Renard was one of the last people in Portland he wanted to work with, but he was still Nick’s boss, whether he liked it or not. They wouldn’t be able to avoid each other forever.

Hank warily added, “I get that this might be a sore subject, but if you can identify this Verosik guy, that makes you our best lead. So, whatever it is you know. . . you’ve gotta start talking to us, man.”

“I know. I’ll just. . . I’ll see if I can get the case file from Brooklyn, and we’ll work from there.” Nick turned his attention to his computer and pretended to look busy.

Hank looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t, allowing Nick to stew in silence.

*****

When Nick and Hank entered the spice shop, Monroe and Rosalee were standing by the counter together, and Bud was pacing anxiously around the room.

“We’re glad you called. We were hoping to get some rumors cleared up,” Monroe said darkly, his eyes darting between the two detectives.

“Is this about the. . . you know?” Bud squeaked, looking around nervously as if speaking the words aloud would magically summon an axe-wielding Grimm.

“The murders, yes,” Nick confirmed. “I’m guessing you guys heard about what happened?”

“Oh boy, did we. News like that spreads fast,” Monroe said, crossing his arms.

Rosalee placed a hand on his shoulder and asked, “Do you have any leads yet?”

“Thanks to Nick, we have a likely suspect.” Hank glanced sideways at Nick and maintained, “We have reason to believe he’s legit. The captain’s going to make a public announcement tomorrow, but he won’t include his name—not until we can come up with some solid evidence.”

“Which is why we’re here now,” Nick finished.

The three Wesen exchanged uncomfortable looks. Monroe took a step forward and said, “Look, man, we’ll help however we can, but I don’t know if we’d be able to do much against a legitimate Endezeichen Grimm. Plus, Rosalee and I aren’t exactly in an ideal position to handle another apocalypse. Or another terrorist group trying to stage a global coup. Or another vindictive Hexenbiest. We’ve already had, like, two of those, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.”

“We’re not asking you to help us find or fight him,” Nick clarified.

All three of them slumped in visible relief. Nick reached into his coat and pulled out a folder, where he had tucked away printed photos of Luke. He spread them out on the counter and said, “There is one thing you can do. Take these pictures, make however many copies you need, and warn as many Wesen as you can. His name is Luke Verosik—Caucasian male, blond, 6’5”, although he’s closer to 7’ in the shoes he likes to wear. The one good thing about him is that he’s hard to miss. He walks around like he owns the street.”

“That’s awfully specific. Do you know this guy? Like, personally?” Monroe asked, raising a dubious eyebrow and gingerly picking up one of the photos.

Nick carefully answered, “He was a person of interest in a previous case I worked. I spent my first year as a cop in Brooklyn; that’s where I met him. I didn’t know what he really was back then, but I know now. We can’t guarantee that more bodies won’t pop up before we’re able to pin him down, so we need you guys to spread this information around. If anyone asks, you didn’t get it from us.

“And if you happen to see him on the street, don’t talk to him, don’t approach him, don’t even look at him. Don’t woge anywhere near him, if you can help it. Don’t give him any reason to pay attention to you. Just find a safe, public space, hunker down, and call 911.”

Monroe wrapped Rosalee in a tight side hug. Bud wrung his hands nervously.

“Do you want me to call Adalind?” Rosalee asked.

“No, I’ll talk to her if Renard hasn’t already. I was supposed to take Kelly this weekend, but I don’t think that’ll be feasible until we get Luke into custody.” Nick looked at each of them in turn and said in a softer tone, “Just be careful, guys. Keep your heads down until this all blows over.”

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” Monroe snorted.

“Good. Be safe, spread the word, and keep your ears open for Renard’s announcement.”

“You got it.”

With that, Nick and Hank strode from the shop together. They climbed into Hank’s car, but before Hank started driving, he peered at Nick and said, “This case is personal for you, I get that, but maybe you ought to slow down and take a breath. We’ve got one frame from a low-res security camera, and nothing else. Do you have any real physical proof that Luke is behind this?”

“It’s him, Hank, I know it. I need you to trust me on this.”

“I do trust you. I’m with you to the end, man, you know that. I just want you to be careful. If this guy is as dangerous as you say he is, I don’t want you to go running into anything you’re not ready for. Especially not alone.”

“I won’t.”

Nick was startled by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out, and his heart missed a beat when he saw a text from Alexander.

Called De Groot. Staying until EG is dealt with.

“Who’s that?” Hank asked.

“Adalind,” Nick lied as he typed up a hasty response. Hank studied him closely, obviously unconvinced, but didn’t pry.

We need to talk. Not now. Face 2 face.

Nick put his phone down and sat back with a shaky sigh. This was the first time since the start of their affair that he’d wished for Alexander to be anywhere but in Portland.

What they had was not what he’d had with Adalind. It was nothing close to what he’d had with Juliette. Hell, there was still a non-zero chance that it was all just an act for the Council’s benefit. Still, the last thing Nick needed was another love affair ending in blood.

*****

The rest of the day was a blur. Nick did what he could, but it was a struggle to focus on work. Hank and Wu seemed to sense that something was wrong, so they didn’t argue when Nick fibbed about not feeling well and went home early.

Nick’s heart slowly sped up on the drive home until it was thudding harder and faster than it had in years. When he was parked safely in his garage, he didn’t get out right away. He just turned off the engine and sat in silence, taking a few seconds to center himself and figure out what he was going to say to Alexander.

Right as he reached for the door handle, his cell phone rang in the stark quiet. His stomach knotted when he saw that it was an unknown number.

“I get anon calls all the time. It won’t be him,” he whispered to himself. He took a deep breath, lifted the phone to his ear, and greeted the caller with a tentative, “Detective Burkhardt.”

“Detective Burkhardt. That has a nice ring to it.”

Nick’s stomach pitched. His head spun. He wasn’t sure if he was about to vomit or pass out—maybe both. Nonetheless, he swallowed his fear and steadied his nerves. He had people to protect. For their sakes, he couldn’t afford to be the same person he once was.

“Luke,” he said stiffly.

“Nick,” Luke replied. The word sliced into Nick’s ear like a blade. “Nice to hear your voice again, babe.”

“Don’t call me that. What the hell are you doing in Portland?”

“Road tripping. Sightseeing. Decided to swing by and scope out the real estate; I’ve been looking for a nice summer home. Don’t suppose you’ve got any recommendations?”

“I want you to leave,” Nick spat.

“I know, honey, but I’ve got business here, and I won’t be leaving until it’s concluded.” After a beat of silence, Luke remarked, “You know, if I’d known you were a Grimm, I never would have let you leave my city. There aren’t as many of us as there once were. We’ve gotta stick together. It was difficult to keep you out of the loop back then, but now. . . we have so much to talk about.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“I disagree.”

Nick gritted his teeth and snapped, “I’ve been a Grimm for over six years. Less resourceful people than you have figured it out in a fraction of that time. Why are you here? Why now?”

“Oh, gold fucking star for those critical thinking skills. You’re right about that much, honey. I’ve known about you for a while. But believe it or not, you aren’t the center of the universe. Not everything has to be about you. That being said, I would love to see you while I’m in town. Fifteen years is a long time. Wouldn’t you like to catch up?”

“No,” Nick said flatly.

“If you’re worried I’m trying to trap you, rest assured, I’m not. I might have considered it if you weren’t a Grimm, but you’re more valuable now than you ever were before.”

“Forget it. I never want to see you again.”

“Mm. That’s a shame.” Luke tsked unhappily and concluded, “Well, the offer stands, just in case you change your mind. I really would like to meet up with you again.”

His voice dropped to a low slither as he added, “I still remember how you felt. You always loved when I was inside you; I remember how you moaned. Would you still moan like that for me, Nick?”

Nick hung up and threw his phone onto the passenger seat as if it had burned him. His breaths came out sharp and shallow. He stared at the phone, half-convinced it would ring again at any second, and Luke would demand to know why he’d been so rudely cut off. After a long minute, he pocketed his phone with shaking hands and stepped out of his car.

He felt sick. He hated Luke. He hated Luke so much it scared him. He hated that, even now, he could feel a set of phantom hands on his skin, roving over his body. He could hear that smooth, seductive voice whispering in his ear.

He wasn’t the only one in danger, though. His friends, his son, Alexander—all of Portland was at risk, Wesen or otherwise. Once Renard made the announcement, word would spread that there was a new Grimm in town, and people would be relying on Nick to protect them.

He couldn’t let Luke break him.

Not again.

*****

“Alexander?” Nick called, striding out of the elevator.

Panic seized him when he received no immediate response. It was a struggle to remain calm as he stopped in the middle of the main room and looked around.

A million frightening theories flew through his brain at once. Had Luke found out where he lived? He knew his phone number, so did he have his address, too? Had he gone to the loft while Nick was at work? Had he found Alexander? What if he’d killed or captured him? Nick wasn’t sure which option was worse. On one hand, he didn’t want to lose Alexander, but he’d seen how far Luke was willing to go in an interrogation, and death was arguably a better outcome.

His fear subsided when Alexander appeared in the open doorway of the bedroom.

“I expected you later,” Alexander said.

Without skipping a beat, Nick prompted, “You’re staying in Portland?”

Alexander looked taken aback by his sharpness. He crossed the space between them and replied, “Yes. I spoke to De Groot. My new orders are to stay and monitor your progress until the case is wrapped up.”

“Why? The Council enforces Wesen law. They don’t have a stake here. You need to let me handle this.”

“I understand that, Nick. I have no intention to interfere. All I’m going to do is observe and report back.”

“No, that’s—” Nick pinched the bridge of his nose and drew in a sharp breath. Trying to sound calmer than he was, he pressed, “Alexander, we’ve had a situation like this before.”

“Yes, you mentioned that earlier.”

“The guy turned out to be a Lebensauger having a psychotic breakdown, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous. I was the reason he started killing. I was his main target. It’s not safe for you here. If Luke finds out you’re staying with me—”

“Luke?” Alexander interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “You have a suspect already?”

“I don’t suspect. I know.”

“You’re familiar with him, then? How?”

“He and I. . . we were. . .”

Nick couldn’t find the words to describe the relationship they’d once had. Alexander just stood there patiently, watching him with mild concern.

At last, Nick strode across the loft, heading for the tunnel door. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

“I’ve already seen the tunnel.”

“I know. I want to show you the exit.”

Alexander trailed close behind Nick as he opened the door in the wall and descended the ladder. When they reached the bottom, Nick turned on his phone light and led the way through the darkness. They traversed mostly in silence, with Nick occasionally stating a direction aloud or pointing out a landmark such as a pile of loose bricks, a rusty chain hanging from the wall, or a specific marking on the floor. Alexander was silent the entire time, but Nick sensed his interest and knew he was paying close attention.

They at last came to the ladder leading up to the furnace door. Nick led Alexander outside, where a car was hidden under a dusty tarp behind a generator.

“I bought this about a month ago, in case I ever need an emergency getaway,” he explained. “I set aside time every other week or so to make sure it runs smoothly.”

He lifted an upside-down bucket and retrieved a chain with one lone key. He showed it to Alexander, then hid it back under the bucket.

“You really thought of everything,” Alexander remarked.

“I tried. Come on.”

They returned to the tunnel and made the long trek back to the loft. Before they ascended the ladder, Nick stopped and faced Alexander with a grave expression. It took him a minute to find the words, but he at last began, “Alexander, I. . . I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

Nick took his hands and said, “I know Luke. I know what he’s capable of. If he finds out about you—about what we’re doing—he’ll kill you, or worse. If he comes here, I want you to get into the tunnels and get out. Promise me you won’t try to stop him yourself.”

“Nick—”

“I mean it, Alexander. Promise me you won’t try to fight him.”

Alexander quietly conceded, “You have my word.”

“Thank you,” Nick sighed.

Alexander took his face in his hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, then pulled back enough to let their foreheads bump together.

“Since I’ll be staying here for the foreseeable future,” he suggested, shifting the topic, “I’d like to make the most of our time together. Will you come to bed with me?”

Nick let out a short, dry laugh and said, “If I ever say no to that, confiscate my gun and shoot me in the head.”

They returned to the loft hand in hand. Nick allowed Alexander to guide him to their room, lay him out on the bed, and climb on top of him. Alexander kissed his way down Nick’s neck and chest, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He palmed Nick’s stiffening erection, then tugged his pants down around his hips and took his cock into his mouth. Nick carded a hand through Alexander’s hair and closed his eyes, relaxing into his lover’s touch.

He didn’t last long under Alexander’s diligent attentions, and reciprocated the favor afterwards. When they finally settled down for some much-needed sleep, they lay facing each other for a long time, basking in the quiet intimacy.

Nick brushed his fingertips across the planes of Alexander’s face and murmured, “I like having you here.”

“I like being here,” Alexander said with a smile. “I like being with you.”

“You like having sex with me.”

“That, too.”

Nick sighed, content, and scooched closer. Alexander wrapped an arm around him and drew him against his chest. He woged, knowing Nick liked the softness of his Pflichttreue coat. Nick hummed and dragged his fingers through Alexander’s spotted white fur.

In that moment, he could almost forget how deeply terrified he was of Luke. He could almost sweep aside all the ugly memories that had resurfaced that day. Before long, however, as Alexander’s breathing lapsed into a slow, sleepy rhythm, renewed dread filled Nick’s gut.

After all these years, Luke had found him. Maybe it truly had taken that long, or maybe he’d found Nick long before and had simply lain in wait for the right time to strike. Regardless of the timing, Nick couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen.

And when it did, it would be all his fault.

Chapter Text

“Not sure I’ve seen you before.”

Nick looked up, and the blood drained from his face when he saw who was speaking to him.

Luke Verosik, eldest son of Tobias Verosik and heir apparent to the family empire, stood over him in all his platinum blond glory. His expensive-looking clothes were all black, from the wool trench coat draped over his shoulders to the tight slacks that left nothing to the imagination. His ivory hair, falling just past his shoulders, was tied back from his face in a half-updo. He had his father’s ice-blue eyes; his piercing gaze was sharp as cut glass.

Crouched over the crates of cocaine he’d been packing, with Luke’s tall, broad-shouldered frame looming over him, Nick felt very small. He stood up so fast he was hit by a wave of vertigo. He dusted off his hands, then hung them stiffly at his sides. Should he offer a handshake, or would that be inappropriate for someone of Luke’s status? He glanced behind Luke, to where Tom Rodney and his lackeys stood amidst the other boxes. Even an innocuous gang like the Blindlights knew who Luke was. They all gawked at Nick with varying degrees of shock, horror, and pity.

Luke eyed Nick up and down, making him feel like he was being examined under a microscope. He cocked his head and said, “You must be new. I was just here a month ago.”

“Uh. . . yeah,” Nick responded awkwardly.

This was not part of the plan.

Captain Firman’s precinct was stretched so thin that even rookie cops like Nick, who’d been on the force for less than a year, were being sent undercover to infiltrate small-fry operations. He’d successfully gotten himself inducted into the Blindlights about two weeks earlier, and although there was still some uncertainty among a few members, most of the gang had warmed up to him. Their boss, Tom Rodney, knew people who knew people, which was how they’d gotten pulled into the Verosik network, albeit on the fringes. They received drug shipments, and their one simple task was to repackage their cargo and send it to the next stop.

All Nick had to do was spend a few weeks in the fold, collect evidence of the Blindlights’ illicit activities—namely their connection to the larger syndicate—and deliver it back to the precinct so the sting could move forward.

No one had told him that he might ever come close to one of the Verosiks.

Luke raised an eyebrow and scoffed, “That’s all you’ve got to say? Assuming you know who I am, I’d hope for a little more respect than that.”

“You want me to kneel or something?” Nick asked.

Luke’s eyebrows shot up. In his periphery, the utter mortification that spread across Tom’s face said that this was not the expected response. Nick’s stomach turned with frightened nausea. He hadn’t meant for the words to come out as snarky as they had; he was genuinely asking. He’d heard of the Verosiks doing unspeakable things to people for far less than a snide quip.

Then Luke threw back his head and laughed.

The rich, clear tones of his voice broke the tense silence. Confusion—albeit relieved confusion—spread through the room, and the other Blindlights shared nervous, tittering laughter. Nick gulped and stood his ground. Was this a laugh of good humor, an appreciation of the accidental sass? Or was it a psychotic laugh that would precede his brutal murder?

Luke’s laughter ebbed into giggles, then lapsed into a peaceful silence. He studied Nick with fresh interest, and a lopsided smile crossed his face.

“Yes, actually, I think I would like to see you on your knees,” he mused.

Nick caught Tom’s gaze and pleaded with his eyes for some kind of direction. Was this a serious request? Was it some kind of metaphor? Was Luke about to kill him? Tom jerked his chin sharply at Luke, indicating that Nick should do as he was told whether it resulted in death or not.

Slowly, cautiously, Nick lowered himself to his knees. His face heated up as he came eye-level to Luke’s groin. He let his gaze drift aimlessly off to the side and tried to ignore his pounding heart. This was obviously some kind of weird mobster dominance thing, so it would probably be in his best interests to avoid eye contact.

When Luke reached towards him, Nick steeled himself for a blow—a punch, a kick, maybe a slap if he was lucky—but none came. Nimble fingers gripped his chin with bruising force and tugged his face up, forcing him to meet those chilly blue eyes. Long, sharp nails, coated in sparkly black polish, dug into his skin hard enough to draw tiny beads of blood. Nick wasn’t sure how to feel about the way Luke was smirking down at him, or the way his thumb brushed over his lower lip.

Luke finally released him, but Nick didn’t dare move from where he knelt. He was in uncharted territory. He was too scared to do anything but stay still as Luke plucked a small card from his pocket and slipped it between Nick’s teeth. Nick accepted it, ignoring the blow to his dignity.

“I’ll be free at 10:00 tonight,” Luke said. He turned on his heel and sashayed to the door, glancing over his shoulder to add, “I’ll be expecting your call.”

He threw Nick a wink, then swept from the building with his bodyguards on his heels. It wasn’t until the door closed that Nick finally moved.

He opened his mouth, letting what he presumed to be Luke’s business card fall into his trembling hands. He gaped down at it, and it took several read-throughs for his brain to process the phone number printed on the card’s surface.

Had that whole scene been some fucked up brand of flirting?

When he’d first gone undercover, no one had even hinted that this was a possibility. Nick was not the least bit equipped to handle this situation.

“What in the fuck was that?” Tom yelled, breaking the taut silence.

“I have no idea,” Nick said meekly. It wasn’t a lie; he was truly baffled.

He wasn’t trained for such an intense level of undercover work. Having been a cop for less than a year, he had next to no experience compared to most of his coworkers. But if Luke’s offer was what it appeared to be, then it was an opportunity that couldn’t be wasted. He would have to ask his captain how to proceed, of course, but he had a sick feeling the outcome would be the same. Besides, even if he wasn’t undercover, saying no to someone like Luke was all but a death sentence.

The police needed someone on the inside. For the benefit of the investigation—and for his own safety—the only choice before him was to do as he was told and run with whatever Luke had in store for him.

*****

“Absolutely not.” Sergeant Hackle paced back and forth across the alley, red in the face with fury.

As soon as Luke left, Nick had had to deal with the Blindlights’ collective freakout, which was led by Tom frantically yelling that Nick had better give good head, or else. Once they’d all settled down, and Nick was able to find a moment alone, he’d called Sergeant Hackle in a stuttering panic and told him everything.

Now, less than three hours before Nick was supposed to call Luke, he was in deep discussion with Hackle and Captain Firman in a secluded alleyway.

“Can I see the number again?” Firman asked, ignoring Hackle.

Nick handed over Luke’s card. Firman studied the phone number for a moment, then handed it back to Nick and sighed, “Knowing the Verosiks, this is probably a burner. He wouldn’t give out his personal cell to randos on the street.”

“No. We are not doing this. We are not feeding anyone to that monster,” Hackle growled, turning on Firman with a vicious glare.

Regarding Nick with a grim face, Firman edged, “The Verosiks have always been ten steps ahead of us. The only people who know everything about every operation are the people directly involved with the family. If we had someone on the inside—”

“We’ve never had an officer on the inside longer than a week! You know why that is? Because the Verosiks run impassable background checks on anyone who breathes in their direction! What happens when Luke finds out he’s on the force? Burkhardt will be dead by the end of the night!”

“Unless he got past the background check,” Firman mused. “He wouldn’t be going in as a bodyguard or a driver. If he plays his cards right, he could earn Luke’s complete confidence. We can’t just throw that opportunity away.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Hackle cried, throwing his arms up. “Burkhardt’s still a rookie! He’s been in uniform less than eight months, and he’s been undercover with the small fry for two weeks! He’s just dipping his toes in the kiddie pool—no offense, Burkhardt—and you’re ready to throw him to the sharks at a moment’s notice! I mean no disrespect, Captain, but I feel obligated to tell you that this is the most reckless, irresponsible operation you’ve ever considered. We shouldn’t even be debating this!”

“Can I say something?” Nick piped up.

“Sit down, son. You have no idea what you’re walking into,” Hackle snapped.

To Nick’s surprise, Firman cut Hackle off with a raised hand and said, “Go ahead, Burkhardt. You’re the one at risk here. What are your thoughts?”

“Well, I was just thinking. . .” He squirmed under the weight of their attention, but gathered his courage and posed, “Say I wasn’t a cop. Say I was just a new recruit of the Blindlights. If Luke Verosik gave me his number and implied that he wanted to sleep with me—which he did—how am I supposed to turn him down?”

Firman and Hackle had apparently not considered that part. They exchanged a wary glance as Nick maintained, “I get that I’m not the ideal person to be airdropped into the middle of something this big, but I don’t think I have much of a choice. I have no idea how I’m going to get around the background check, but one way or another, I’m going to have to meet up with him. Do you want me to try and stick with him or not?”

“Burkhardt, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hackle insisted, his words articulate and his tone harsh.

“You’re right, I don’t, but I don’t have a lot of time or options, so do you want me to go in as a mole or a one-night stand?”

Hackle recoiled like he’d been slapped. His face twisted into a scowl, and he said, “The’ll run a background whether you go in with an agenda or not. They’ll see that you’re a cop, and they’ll kill you—and not quickly.”

“Unless he wasn’t a cop.”

Hackle and Nick turned to look at Firman. Nick could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he posed, “We purge your records—training, employment, everything. It’s extreme, but it might be enough to let you slip under the radar.”

“If Luke thinks he’s clean, he might keep him around longer than tonight. That’s too dangerous,” Hackle interjected hotly. “This one-night stand idea—which I’m still entirely opposed to—is one thing, but what if Luke tries to pull him into some kind of fucked up relationship?”

“That might not be a bad thing,” Nick pointed out. “One night won’t be enough to make him trust me. He’s not going to spill all his family’s secrets to some guy he meets on the street. If we end up getting more. . . involved , I can get things from him that no one else can. Do we have anyone else that close to the Verosiks?”

Firman hesitantly admitted, “We don’t, but the feds have two agents undercover. One’s a maid, the other’s a bodyguard. I don’t know who they are, and I don’t know where they’re planted.”

“I’m sure they pick up a lot of intel, but if we don’t have any of our own uniforms on the inside, then I’m guessing the feds have been stringing you guys along on a need-to-know basis.”

“I can’t believe you’re arguing in favor of this,” Hackle snapped, still adamantly against the idea. “Fine—say he does want to keep you around. He’ll have access to your phone. Even if he does start slipping, how are you going to contact us without him knowing?”

“We could set up a liaison. Someone without any direct ties to the precinct, who wouldn’t raise suspicion,” Firman suggested. “They couldn’t pose as a relative, because Luke would sniff that out in a heartbeat, but they could be a friend or mentor, someone who Burkhardt would want to visit or call regularly. He reports to them, they report to us.”

Hackle crossed his arms and glared at both of them in turn. There was something in his expression that Nick couldn’t quite place; after a second of scrutiny, he realized it was restraint.

“Can I have a word, Captain?” Hackle ground out at last.

“Certainly. Would you mind waiting here a minute, Burkhardt?”

“Go ahead. Tom’s not expecting me back for another hour.”

The two older men walked a ways down the alley, but they were just enough in earshot that Nick couldn’t resist eavesdropping when they launched into a quiet but heated argument.

“What in the hell are you thinking? This is a terrible idea!”

“You got any better ones? Because I’d love to hear them. He’s right about one thing; there’s no way he can get out of doing this. One way or another, he’s going to have to make that call tonight.”

A tense beat of silence passed before Hackle said, “We have to tell him.”

“No.”

“We have to tell him everything.”

“Hackle, calm down.”

“He needs to know what he’s up against, Firman! He can’t be flying blind into something this dangerous! We have to tell him; we have to show him.”

“No! Damn it, Hackle, think about this for one second. If he knows, it won’t take long for Luke to pick up on it, and he’ll realize he’s being double-crossed. It might be more dangerous for Burkhardt if he knows the truth—if he knows what the Verosiks really are. I know you don’t like it—trust me, I don’t like it either—but keeping him out of the loop might be the safest thing for him. He already knows Luke is dangerous. That'll have to be enough. For now, at least.”

Nick mulled over their hushed words. Did they know something about the Verosiks that he didn’t? Probably. He was still a rookie, after all. He was never meant to be part of this operation in the first place. Despite his doubts, he made sure to keep his face neutral when Firman and Hackle returned to where he stood. The latter regarded him unhappily while the former stepped forward and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, Burkhardt, I. . .” Firman cleared his throat and said, “If we had any other options, I would never ask this of you.”

“I know. I can do it, sir,” Nick affirmed. He forced a dry smile and added, “This isn’t something I typically advertise, but he won’t be the first guy I’ve hooked up with. It’s not like I’ll be losing anything to him. Except some dignity, maybe.”

“That’s not funny, Burkhardt,” groused Hackle.

“Sorry, sir. Just trying to stay positive.”

“Hold on to that, kid.” Firman gave his shoulder a squeeze and assured him, “We’ll have your records cleared and your contact set up by tonight. If this whole thing starts to capsize, we’ll pull you out asap. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

*****

When Nick stepped out of the black limo that had picked him up, he had to take a second to absorb the sight of the huge manor before him. It was closer to a castle than a manor, really. It was a massive estate, easily the biggest piece of residential property Nick had ever seen in person, surrounded on all sides by a sprawling garden. The building itself looked almost Victorian, and despite the pristine exterior, the unique architecture implied at least a century of age. Walking through the wrought iron gates was like stepping into a postcard.

One of the four suited guards escorting him, Tanidev, put a hand on his back and urged him forward.

“It’s not a good idea to keep him waiting.”

“I know,” Nick said, swallowing a lump in his throat. “It’s just. . . this is just a lot.”

He took Tanidev’s lack of response as his cue to shut up. Like all of Luke’s guards, Tanidev was tall, bulky, and stoically silent. Had Nick met him in a casual setting, that strong jaw and those brooding eyes would have instantly drawn him in, but he wasn’t here to hook up with Tanidev. He was here to hook up with Tanidev’s boss, who was set to inherit the country’s largest and most ruthless crime syndicate.

The manor’s front entrance—a set of heavy double doors complete with iron knockers—opened into a wide foyer, where two parallel staircases led to the second floor. The interior of Luke’s manor was no less gothic or impressive than the outside. Nick felt like he was walking into a surreal hybrid of The Addams Family and The Godfather. The décor was all dark, heavy drapes, red carpets and wallpaper, and furnishings that were sparsely distributed but sumptuous and expensive looking. He spotted an ornate glass coffee table that was probably worth more than his monthly rent.

Nick fidgeted nervously as Tanidev reported into his earpiece, “He’s here, sir. We’ve got him in the foyer.”

Nick swayed close enough to hear a staticky voice respond, “Good. Bring him up to my suite.”

The other three guards remained behind while Tanidev led Nick up the stairs and through a labyrinth of hallways. Nick tried to draw a mental map, but there were too many twists, turns, and distracting objects. Without a guide, he would have gotten lost immediately.

As they walked in loud silence, Nick started to wonder what was in store for him. He was 100% certain now that Luke wanted sex, but what exactly would that entail? Would he kill Nick afterwards, praying mantis-style? What if he was a sadist? What if he expected Nick to do weird, degrading things?

“So, uh, does Luke—er, Mr. Verosik—do this kind of thing often?” he prompted.

Tanidev glanced sideways at him.

“Not often, but sometimes.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Nick hesitated, gathering the courage to voice his thoughts aloud, and asked, “So, is this actually a one-night stand? For real?”

“As far as I know.”

“He doesn’t, like, kill the people he brings home when he’s done with them, right?”

A bolt of fear shot through him when Tanidev abruptly stopped and turned around. He regarded Nick with a searching, slightly suspicious look, then spoke.

“Do you know what he is?”

Nick frowned and responded, “I know he’s a Verosik. I know what his position in the family is.”

“That’s not what I meant. Do you know what he is or not?”

“A. . . human being?” Nick guessed meekly, shrinking back. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

A hint of pity crept into Tanidev’s expression.

“Just do whatever he tells you to do. Try to relax. You’ll be fine.”

“Not really reassuring,” Nick muttered. Tanidev ignored that comment and resumed their tour through the manor.

They eventually came to an ominous red door. Tanidev pushed it open and stepped aside, gesturing for Nick to go through. Nick squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked into Luke’s suite.

Luke sat at a shiny black desk near the window, writing something on a sheet of paper. A stack of other documents sat beside him, and Nick made a mental note to poke through them when the opportunity arose.

Luke smiled and stood as Nick entered the suite. He was unsettlingly handsome in a casual button-up and black dress pants. His lovely blond hair was tucked behind his ears, but otherwise hung free in a silky curtain.

“Welcome! I’ve gotta be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d call. The men I take an interest in usually try to run.”

Luke moved around the desk and sauntered across the room with catlike grace. Nick was acutely reminded of how tall he was as he approached. His physical power was evident in each step he took and in the sway of his long, sinuous arms. Nick got the impression that, despite his feminine features and lean figure, Luke could overpower him easily.

“Right. So, um, how is this gonna work?” Nick asked. He cast a nervous glance at Tanidev, who stood impassively in the doorway.

“First, I’m going to need your cell phone. Standard procedure. Can’t be too careful,” Luke explained, holding out an expectant hand. Nick pulled his phone from his pocket and reluctantly gave it up.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he remarked.

Luke smiled and tossed the phone to Tanidev, who stowed it in his jacket. Tanidev then walked forward, forcibly lifted Nick’s arms, and began a thorough pat-down. Nick took it in stride, gritting his teeth through the procedure even as Tanidev’s large, calloused hands cupped his ass and groin in search of hidden devices. Nick had to consciously remind himself that they would find no wires on his body and no incriminating evidence on his phone.

Through a coordinated effort between Captain Firman and Sergeant hackle, his training and employment records had been wiped from the precinct’s system. He already had a spare phone that he used with the Blindlights, so Firman had added Elouise Mitchel to his contacts. Her cover story was that she was an old friend of Nick’s aunt who had taken a drug-addicted and homeless Nick off the streets, coaxed him into rehab, and helped him get back on his feet. Any information Nick got from Luke would be given to her, and she in turn would relay it to Hackle. They and Firman were the only people in on the operation, so the Verosiks wouldn’t get Nick’s identity from the moles they had in the precinct. If everything went according to plan, Nick would slip past Luke’s defenses like a bar of soap.

“I didn’t catch your name earlier, babe. Wanna tell me what it is?” Luke prompted. He lifted a hand, and Nick resisted the instinct to recoil as those long nails dragged through his hair.

“Nick Burkhardt. Nicholas, if you need my full name, but Nick is fine,” he answered with as much composure as he could muster.

“Go run a background, Tanidev. I’ll take it from here.”

Tanidev nodded and left the room, leaving them alone.

“So. . .” Nick began, trailing off. He stiffened as Luke’s hands wandered under his shirt to roam over bare skin. 

“So,” Luke echoed. He leaned in until Nick could feel his warm breath. “Take off your clothes, babe.”

He pulled his hands out of Nick’s shirt and stepped back. Nick waited a second, half-hoping Luke would give him some privacy by turning around, but those cold eyes remained locked on him. Nick took a deep breath and, with trembling hands, slowly stripped. He refused to meet Luke’s eyes, but he could feel that penetrating gaze boring into him.

He took an extra minute to fold his clothes into a neat pile on the floor. Then he stood and rigidly faced Luke, stark naked and repressing the urge to cover himself.

Luke wolf-whistled and circled him, remarking, “Not bad, honey. You looked okay with your clothes on, but I definitely prefer you like this.”

He stopped in front of Nick, cupped his face in both hands, and kissed him. It was firm, but not rough, and his lips, warm and soft, tasted faintly of peppermint. He slid one hand to the back of Nick’s neck and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling their bodies together. Nick let out a muffled squeak of surprise. What was he supposed to do? Did Luke expect him to reciprocate, or just stand there and take it?

Nick recalled Tanidev’s earlier advice and reminded himself to relax. He compliantly parted his lips, and Luke’s tongue probed into his mouth. He wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to touch Luke the way Luke was touching him, but after a moment of deliberation, he lifted a hand and rested it on Luke’s chest. This was met with a pleased hum, so he tested the boundaries further, undoing one of Luke’s shirt buttons and sliding his hand under the fabric. His cheeks flushed with shame when he felt his blood rush south. He shouldn’t be turned on by this.

Luke broke away from the kiss and chuckled, “Getting excited, hm?”

“It’s just been a while,” Nick admitted.

That much was true. He’d been on a sparse handful of dates in recent years, but had taken the last few months to focus on his career.

Luke leaned down to kiss his throat, and far too quickly found the perfect spot. He sucked at the sensitive skin, and Nick arched against him with a soft gasp, fingers curling into his shirt.

“Feels good?” Luke murmured against his neck.

“Y-Yes,” Nick choked out. He shut his eyes and tried to convince himself that it wasn’t criminal for this to feel good. If he liked the things Luke did, that would only boost his performance.

But every instinct was screaming out how wrong this was.

Nick had no problem sleeping with men, but he was a cop, and here he was offering his body to Luke Verosik like a sacrificial virgin. He was selling himself for information. He was whoring himself. He did his best to bury those intrusive thoughts when Luke pulled away and regarded him with a fond, thoughtful smile.

“What was it you said to me this afternoon? Oh, that’s right; you asked if I wanted you to kneel. The answer is yes. I’d love to see you on your knees again.”

Steeling himself for the inevitable, Nick knelt down on the floor. His face flushed when Luke unbuckled his belt and tossed it aside. He dragged a hand through Nick’s hair, then tightened his fingers in a vice grip and shoved Nick’s face against his clothed groin with sudden roughness. Nick could feel the heat and hardness of his erection. Nausea pooled in his gut.

He didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to do this.

Luke released him, and it was all Nick could do not to fling himself backwards. Luke raised an expectant eyebrow, and Nick realized he would have to be more participative than he’d hoped.

He needed to do this. He was the only one who could. No matter how low he sank, Captain Firman would pull him out before anything bad happened. For his own sake, Nick had to believe that.

Without further ado, he unzipped Luke’s fly and did his duty.

Chapter Text

Nick was subconsciously aware that someone was calling him when the familiar buzz of his phone snuck into his dream, but he didn’t emerge from sleep until Alexander nudged him awake.

“Nick. Nick, you have to wake up. It’s Hank.”

Nick groaned and cracked one eye open. He squinted at his phone, which sat in Alexander’s hand. It buzzed insistently as if to prove its point. Nick had no strong desire to answer it, because a call from Hank in the middle of the night meant work, and work meant he would have to get out of bed. He was quite comfy where he was, stretched out on his back with Alexander beside him. Despite his reluctance, however, he sighed and accepted the call.

“Talk to me,” he said lifting the phone to his ear.

He bolted upright when Hank drilled through the speaker, “We’ve got a B & E in progress, and a man matching Luke Verosik’s description was spotted at the scene. I know it’s not a great time, man, but—”

“Where?” Nick demanded without a second of hesitation.

Hank rattled off the address, and Nick leapt out of bed, leaving a confused but alert Alexander behind.

“Is it the Endezeichen?”

“Yup. B & E in progress.”

Nick threw on some clothes as quickly as he could, paying little attention to what he selected. He grabbed his jacket, shoved his phone into his pocket, and snatched his car keys. Casting Alexander an apologetic look, he said, “I’m really sorry, but I have to—”

“I know. Be careful.”

They exchanged a curt nod, and then Nick was riding the elevator downstairs and speeding out of his garage.

*****

The crime scene was in the middle of a large residential neighborhood. When Nick arrived, the first thing he spotted was a massive Sterbestunde G painted in blood on the side of a cordoned-off house. While the one in the alley had been only a foot in diameter, this one stretched from the ground to the overhang of the roof. Nick jumped out of his car, ducked under a strip of yellow tape, and jogged over to where Hank and Wu stood in the doorway. In his periphery, he noticed neighbors huddling outside their houses up the length of the street. He glimpsed several fearful woges and knew that word would spread long before Renard made the case public.

“We’ve got four bodies this time. Same M.O. as the alley kills. We haven’t found the heads,” Wu reported as he led Nick and Hank inside. He paused in the entryway and lowered his voice to add, “I really hope you’ve got a lead on this guy, Nick, because this one’s a lot worse.”

This crime scene was indeed a lot worse, because Luke had killed a family.

The Reubens were a nuclear family of four: a mother, a father, a teenaged girl, and a boy who couldn’t have been older than eight. Luke hadn’t even tried to be subtle, as the front door had been violently kicked in. The Reubens were scattered throughout their home as if they’d all panicked and run in different directions. The teenaged girl had made it the farthest—not that it had done her much good. Her body lay twisted and bent at the foot of a staircase, and streaked across the edge of the top step were two bloody handprints. She’d almost made it to the second floor.

When Nick picked up a blood-splattered family photo from the mantle, his gaze zeroed in on the young boy. Although Kelly was less than a year old, he was growing fast, already walking and running. Nick found himself picturing Kelly’s face on the body of this eight-year-old. All he could do was stare at the portrait and wonder what kind of Wesen these people had been.

As Nick set the photo down and turned to absorb the surrounding carnage, Hank leaned closer and whispered, “Do you still think—”

“It’s him.” Nick glanced back at the teenager’s body and added, “He wants me to know it’s him. He wants me to know what he is.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He wouldn’t have bothered coming all the way from New York for a few flashy murders,” Nick said slowly. He took a turn about the room, thinking back to the surveillance from the alley. “He’s done worse than this, and he’s been doing it for a long time. His whole family has. He’s not stupid. He wanted me to see him by the alley, and he wanted to be seen here.”

Hank knit his brow. “But why would he just give himself away like that? If he’s interested in you because you’re a Grimm, why not contact you directly? Why do all of this just to get your attention? What does he want from you?”

“I don’t know,” Nick answered flatly.

He did know. Luke had contacted him directly, had asked to meet in person, and Nick had turned him down flat. The alley kill had been a means of getting his attention; this was retribution.

An old echo of Luke’s voice drifted up from the recesses of Nick’s mind, chilling him to his core.

“You don’t get to say no to me.”

*****

The call came two hours later, while Nick was finishing up the report on the Reubens’ murder. His phone rang right as Hank got up to get coffee. Nick paid little attention to the number as he answered.

“Detective Burkhardt,” he prompted, rubbing his bleary eyes.

“Hey, babe. How’s work?”

Nick sat up straight as an arrow.

“What do you want?” he snapped, filling his voice with as much venom as he could muster.

“You, obviously. I thought I made that clear. Or maybe you’d like another. . . demonstration? I was under the impression that you give a shit about Portland’s loveable Wesen community.”

“Why are you doing this?” Nick demanded, his voice cracking weakly.

Luke hummed and replied, “Oh, I have my reasons. A phone call isn’t the best place to discuss them. Anyway, I just called to let you know that I’m currently standing across the street from that tea shop you love so much. The Fuchsbau is behind the counter, and the Blutbad is dusting the shelves. Getting ready to open up for the day, by the looks of it. Good God, I knew the Fuchsbau was pregnant, but does she have a whole fucking litter in there? Oh, she does, doesn’t she? I’ll bet she does.”

Nick didn’t move an inch. He glanced at the coffee station; Hank had his back to him. He was on his own.

His pulse quickened as Luke droned on, “It’s always a shame when an expecting couple suffers the tragic loss of their would-be family. Have you ever carved up a pregnant woman, Nick? Knowing you, probably not.”

“Stop,” Nick choked out. Luke didn’t stop.

“A lot of Wesen have litters, so it’s extra exciting. There’s nothing quite like slitting a Wesen bitch from twat to tits and watching those fleshy little rats spill all over the place. It’s even more fun if you save the father for last; the males get so worked up. It’s hilarious. Your Fuchsbau looks pretty far along. I’d bet money those rotten abortions are due to pop out any day now. A shame we’ll never see them woged. What would that look like, do you think? A Fuchsbau-Blutbad hybrid?”

“Stop, Jesus Christ, just—just stop. Don’t hurt them. I’ll—” Nick’s breath hitched, but he cleared his throat and finished, “I’ll come see you. Just tell me when and where.”

“Good boy,” Luke purred. “I’ll text you the address at 11:00 tonight. Someone will pick you up there.” As if as an afterthought, he added, “By the way, I’ll be leaving a discrete garrison outside this shop. Come to our rendezvous on time, and keep it to yourself. If you try anything, I’ll kill your little pets and burn their shop to the ground. Have I made myself understood?”

“I swear to god, Luke, if you hurt them—”

“Have I made myself understood?”

Nick’s tongue was dry. His throat was tight. His voice was barely above a whisper as he responded, “I understand. I’ll be there.”

“That’s good to hear. Looking forward to it, babe.”

Luke hung up without another word. Nick sat there, frozen, the phone still hovering over his ear. He was hardly aware when Hank returned to his desk and set a cup of coffee in front of him.

“Here. You look like you could use it,” Hank said. When Nick didn’t respond, he frowned and asked, “You good?”

Nick’s movements were stiff as he pocketed his phone. He forced a numb smile.

“All good. Let’s finish this up and go through the files again.”

*****

Alexander had been battling a rising tide of worry all day, but when Nick’s jeep pulled into the garage that evening, his anxieties instantly dissolved. He was already smiling when Nick lifted the elevator gate and stepped into the loft, but his smile quickly faded.

Nick’s face was pale and tight, and he walked with uncharacteristic stiffness. The bitter scent of fear hung around him, faint but discernable. Alexander set aside the tea he’d been brewing and stepped out of the kitchen, fresh concern clutching his heart.

“Is everything alright? What happened this morning?”

Nick’s eyes flicked up to his face, and Alexander was momentarily paralyzed by the tortured, hollow exhaustion he saw in them. Nick dropped his gaze and brushed past him, moving listlessly into the kitchen.

“Everything’s fine. We got it cleaned up.”

A blatant lie. He wasn’t even trying to conceal it. Alexander had never seen him like this; he was usually so unflappable.

Alexander hesitated, then walked to where Nick now stood at the counter. He wrapped his arms around his middle and touched a kiss to the nape of his neck. Nick relaxed into his embrace with a small sigh.

“Nick,” Alexander said slowly, “if you need to talk. . . about anything. . . I have nowhere else to be right now.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Nick muttered. “Just been thinking.”

“What about?”

“I dunno. Stuff.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“You, me, us. ‘Us’ -es I’ve had in the past.” Nick turned around and met his gaze with a gloomy stare. “I know that what we’re doing isn’t the most conventional thing in the world, but I don’t want anything to happen to you. I’ve had enough romantic tragedy for one lifetime.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Alexander took his face in his hands and kissed him softly. “Nothing will happen to me, and as long as I’m here, nothing will happen to you. Nothing will happen to your friends, nor to your son. You have my word.”

Nick turned his face away, but not before Alexander caught a glimmer of guilt in his eyes. He slipped two fingers under Nick’s chin and gently guided him back up to meet his gaze. “I mean that, Nick. I won’t let anything happen to you—to either of us. Can you trust that?”

Nick shut his eyes and nodded.

“Yeah, okay,” he whispered.

“Okay,” Alexander echoed.

He kissed him again, and Nick leaned forward to deepen it. His hands came up to Alexander’s shirt collar, and he undid the buttons one by one. Alexander purred contentedly as Nick’s dexterous hands pushed his shirt open and roved over his bare chest.

Nick was just reaching for his belt when Alexander stopped him and suggested, “If you’d like to take this further, we should do so in bed.”

Nick had no qualms about that, so they made their way to the bedroom, shedding clothes as they went.

Alexander soon had Nick sprawled across the bed beneath him. He mapped a trail of kisses along his jaw, down his neck, just the way he liked it. Nick’s legs wrapped loosely around his hips, locking them together.

Alexander carried out the prep work with swift, practiced skill. He didn’t even need to watch his hands as he eased Nick open with his fingers. The worries that plagued his Grimm seemed to ebb with every soft moan Alexander drew from him.

Alexander prepped himself with a few quick strokes, then hitched one of Nick’s supple legs over his shoulder and pushed into him. Nick groaned through his teeth and pressed his face into the pillow. Once he’d adjusted, Alexander began to move, picking up a slow, measured tempo. There were times when Nick liked it fast and rough, but when he was in a mood like this, Alexander found that a steadier, more attentive approach was what he needed.

Alexander made gentle love to him, taking care to touch him in all the right places. He kissed him, caressed him, murmured soft words of praise and affection into his ear. Just as he’d hoped, Nick soaked it all up like a sponge, and before long, they were both nearing their peaks.

Alexander made sure Nick finished first. He stroked him, thrust steadily into him, and Nick came with a groan, writhing against the sheets and twisting his fingers into the blankets. Alexander climaxed not long after, sinking deep inside Nick and pressing his face into the crook of his neck. He stayed there for a while, relaxing inside his Grimm, before pulling out and letting Nick’s leg slip off his shoulder. He pushed him onto his back and touched a kiss to his lips. Nick sighed against his mouth, tangled his fingers into Alexander’s hair.

“You’re not alone,” Alexander assured him.

“You won’t leave me?” Nick whispered, his voice cracking.

“Never. I’m staying right here.”

Perhaps there was an Endezeichen Grimm in Portland, but that Endezeichen was not in Nick’s loft, nor in his bed. With his lovely Grimm held safely in his arms, Alexander set aside his misgivings for the night.

As long as he was here, he wouldn’t let anything happen to Nick.

*****

Nick lay on his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Alexander slept soundly beside him, unaware that anything was wrong. At ten to 11:00, Nick slipped out from under the covers and left the bedroom. He’d have woken Alexander by taking the elevator, so he used the tunnel and employed his emergency getaway car. The least he could do, for Alexander’s sake, was make it harder for Luke to track him home.

An address texted from an unknown number led him to an old steel mill a few miles outside of Portland, about half a mile off the interstate. It was a massive, dilapidated building that had been abandoned for as long as Nick could remember. The sprawl of rusting equipment and inactive generators was slowly being reclaimed by the surrounding field. As Nick drove along a gravelly in-road, he spotted a bird’s nest in the cab of a forklift and heard an army of crickets chirping from a pile of mossy barrels.

Waiting outside the mill was a sleek black limo guarded by four suited men. They stood there like statues as Nick parked and climbed out of his car. The nearest guard wordlessly opened one of the limo doors when he approached, and Nick hesitated only a second before climbing inside. The vehicle’s interior was pristine and sumptuous, with leather-lined seats and dark tinted windows. The guards joined him, the first two on either side and the latter pair seated across the way.

“He’s not here?” Nick probed.

“Just a precaution,” one of the guards stated.

Nick said nothing more, and neither did they.

The drive took them back into the city limits. Nick paid close attention to the route they took, though It was difficult for him to focus on anything other than the sickening knot of dread in his gut.

Luke was staying at a massive rental estate in a wealthy neighborhood, not unlike what the royals had used when they kidnapped Diana. Two men stationed at the main entrance were the only visible guards, but Nick had no doubt there were more. Luke probably had the area covered for at least a two- or three-block radius.

The limo parked along a roundabout driveway, and Nick was escorted to the front doors. As the guards led him inside, he was reminded of Luke’s old mansion back in New York. This rental was much less imposing, but it carried the same chilly air of elitism.

Nick’s hands were clenched in white-knuckled fists at his sides. It took every ounce of bodily control he had to avoid vomiting on the cream-colored carpet. Despite his growing anxiety, he had enough wherewithal to map the path they took through the manor and compile a mental list of all the exits he spotted. He couldn’t trust a word that left Luke’s mouth, so he needed a reliable escape route in the even that he needed to run.

Up some stairs, down a hall, around a few corners, and he was at last led into the master bedroom. It was huge and lavish, close to the size of Nick’s entire loft. In the middle of the room was a colossal four-poster bed with a red coverlet and a pile of matching pillows. Nick had to swallow a surge of bile at the sight of it.

Luke slept in that bed. Depending on how long he’d been in Portland, he’d probably already had a few prostitutes and one-night stands under those garish red sheets.

The guards marched from the room, leaving Nick alone. He turned in a slow circle, studying the space, but froze on the spot when Luke’s voice drifted from the bathroom.

“I wasn’t sure you’d follow through. You sounded pretty worked up over the phone.”

Loathing of the purest kind twisted in Nick’s heart, the weight of it almost doubling him over. He turned his eyes to the bathroom door, where Luke emerged and leaned lazily against the frame. His icy blue eyes raked up and down Nick’s body, and he said with a smug half-smile, “I’m glad you came. It’s nice to see you again, babe.”

His hair was longer than Nick remembered. He’d always kept it long, but now it fell past his ribs in a sleek ivory curtain. He usually braided it, but it hung loose tonight, tucked behind his ears and framing his elegant features. The years had visibly aged him, but he was as unfairly beautiful as ever—although, Nick reflected, he’d probably had some amount of discrete work done to preserve his youth.

Luke sauntered across the room, musing, “How long has it been? Fourteen, fifteen years? I’m still sorry I didn’t make my court date. I bet you would have looked perfectly tragic on the witness stand. A shame the trial didn’t get off the ground before that unfortunate little incident.”

Nick refused to take the bait.

“You’re a Grimm,” he said flatly.

“I am.”

“Did you know about me? Before?”

“Do you think I would have let you leave New York if I had?” Luke walked to a windowside desk, where he poured himself a glass of wine. He took a sip and stated, “Truth be told, I’m not the kind of Grimm you think I am. I don’t lean as far to the conservative side as most of my relatives. But that symbol does wonders to get people’s attention, doesn’t it?”

“You said you would tell me why you came to Portland,” Nick reminded him, switching the subject before Luke could goad him further. “I’m here. I’m meeting with you, like you wanted. Why are you here?”

“All in good time, honey.” Luke set down his glass and stalked across the room with the grace of a panther. He stopped in front of Nick, and those pale, nimble hands rose to unzip his jacket. Nick slapped his hands away and fell back a step. He wasn’t sure if he’d rather punch Luke or run away from him.

“If you touch me, I will kill you,” he growled.

“As if you could,” Luke scoffed. “I’m sure you’d put up a better fight than you did last time, but you couldn’t kill me if you tried. Oh, I should have come to Portland sooner. We have so much to discuss.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, babe. There’s so much I want to hear about! Your health, for instance; you look great. Your Wesen pets must be treating you well.”

“Don’t call them that,” Nick snapped with renewed intensity. He was the one to close the distance this time, fixing Luke with a vicious glare despite having to crane his neck to do it. Luke smirked down at him, not the least bit intimidated.

“Fine. Your Wesen friends. How did you manage that, by the way?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You sure about that? Because everyone else seems to know about it. I mean it, Nick, I really want to know how you secured their loyalty. They drop everything to help you with your cases and you were the best man at their wedding? And don’t even get me started on your Hexenbiest slut and that half-breed accident she dropped in your lap.”

Nick’s blood turned to ice. All coherent thoughts flew from his mind, save for one: Luke knew about Kelly.

Before he could speak, Luke lifted a hand and said, “Relax, I haven’t touched them. Your private life has been conveniently public since you became a Grimm. It’s not that hard to pick up the details.”

“You can have me. Do what you want with me, but you can’t hurt them. Not my friends, not Adalind, and I swear to God, if you go anywhere near my son—”

“Shh. Relax, honey,” Luke crooned, taking Nick’s wrists and tugging him closer. “I won’t lay a hand on any of ‘em if I don’t need to. You have my word. Now, about tonight’s transaction. . .”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Nick hissed, recoiling from his grasp.

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Is that how we’re going to do this? You’re gonna play easy for everyone except me, hm?”

Nick reeled back as if he’d been slapped. He was surprised by how much that stung.

“Just tell me why you’re here, and then you can do whatever you want.”

Luke tapped his chin thoughtfully, looked him up and down, and remarked, “You know, thinking back on our call, I don’t think I ever actually promised to share that information. I asked you to come over for a quickie, and you agreed.”

“Because you threatened my friends,” Nick said, his voice rising to a panicked pitch as he realized how tightly cornered he was.

“And that threat stands. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to tell you why I’m here. I always enjoy some pre- and post-coital chitchat.” Luke leaned in until their faces were inches away and purred, “But not until I’ve fucked you stupid.”

Nick’s face contorted in revulsion. He tried to squirm away, but Luke grabbed his waist with bruising strength and said, “In hindsight, I’m glad I was arrested when I was. Was it fun at the time? Hell no. But if they hadn’t come when they did, I would have killed you, Nick. You remember that day, don’t you?”

“I remember,” Nick choked out.

“Of course you do. How could you forget? Anyway, I’m glad I didn’t kill you, because these past fifteen years have given me the chance to think.”

Luke unzipped Nick’s jacket, pushed it off his shoulders and onto the ground. Nick’s stomach turned, but he didn’t resist this time. Luke moved in closer and went on, “I’ve had time to think about what I would do when I got my hands on you again. I decided a long time ago that death is too good for you. I decided that I wouldn’t let you die for years. I would keep you alive and hidden, tucked away where no one would ever find you.”

Off came Nick’s shirt.

“I’d fuck you whenever I wanted.”

His belt was unbuckled and discarded.

“I’d torture you however I wanted.”

Next went his pants and boxers.

“I’d use you up in every conceivable way, until there was nothing left to use.”

At the behest of a gesture, Nick stepped out of his shoes and removed his socks, leaving him naked. Luke stepped back and admired his body with a low whistle of appreciation. He clicked his tongue and commented, “Goddamn, honey, you look good. You’ve definitely filled out. I think I preferred you on the slimmer side, though.”

“When you were starving me, you mean?”

“You starved yourself, babe. Don’t you remember that nasty little phase you went through?”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Nick muttered. He shouldered past Luke and walked stiffly to the bed.

Cool hands alighted on his back, bending him over and pushing him face-down into the soft coverlet. He could hear the smirk in Luke’s voice as he said, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Chapter Text

Nick gulped and wrung his hands as two wine glasses were set side-by-side on the table. Luke sat opposite him, watching his discomfort with mild amusement. He looked perfectly at ease, with his long legs crossed gracefully and one arm slung over the back of the booth. Although, Nick reflected, this was probably a regular dinner setting for someone like him.

The restaurant was one Nick had never heard of. It was a Michelin joint in Manhattan, where the cheapest meal was $60 and the dress code demanded pristine formal wear. He and Luke sat alone in a balcony-tier booth, where a small chandelier bathed them in soft mood lighting. Beyond the thin privacy screens, Nick could hear the murmuring crowd of other rich patrons.

Luke was as breathtaking as he’d been when they’d first hooked up two days prior. He wore his usual expensive black clothing, though this time had a light layer of makeup to accentuate his beauty. His ears glittered with a constellation of silver studs, his fingers were bedazzled with decorative rings, and his nails were freshly manicured. Nick had never felt cheaper than he did then, with his rented suit and an ugly plaid tie—the only tie he owned. Even the maître d’ looked better than he did.

In an effort to make light of the contrast, Nick half-joked, “If it wasn’t for you, they probably wouldn’t have let me in like this.”

“Relax, babe. You look fine,” Luke assured him. He took a sip of wine and added with a shrug, “My Uncle Frank owns the place, anyway, so no one here gets to say a word against you unless they want to lose their tongues.”

“Wow. That is. . . dark.”

Luke chuckled. He studied Nick for a moment, then said, “On the subject of my family. . . I was surprised you called. Not many men want to risk a second date.”

“Oh, well, I just. . .” Nick swallowed hard. He hated how quickly his face heated up. Despite how flustered he was, he managed to say, “I just. . . I really liked being with you. I haven’t been with anyone in a while, and I wasn’t expecting it to be like. . . that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luke snorted. His tone was joking, but there was an air of offense in the way his shoulders tensed and his face tightened. Nick hastily stammered out a response, latching onto the first idea that came to mind.

“Nothing, really. It’s just. . . you’re one of the most powerful people in this city. The country, even.”

“The world,” Luke purred.

Stroking his ego seemed to soothe his encroaching anger, so Nick ran with it.

“Exactly. Even I know who you are, and I’m nobody. I guess I just didn’t expect you to care if I liked it.”

He paused, then added in hopes of winning some sympathy points, “Most of the men I’ve slept with in the past were like that. More focused on themselves, you know?”

“My dick’s just that good, hm?” Luke took another sip of wine and raised an eyebrow.

Nick’s face reddened. He tried to respond, but Luke cut him off with a flick of his hand. He set his glass down, leaned forward on his elbows, and stated, “That’s real cute, honey, but let’s cut the shit. Who are you in with?”

“What? I’m not—”

“Did Rodney put you up to this?”

“No, I’m not—Luke, no one—”

Luke struck like a snake, one hand lunging across the table to latch onto Nick’s wrist. Nick let out a frightened gasp as he was yanked forward. He tried to twist away, but Luke’s grip was like iron.

“I said cut the shit. No one calls a second time. What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” Luke demanded, his blue eyes narrowing.

“Nothing!” Nick cried.

“Then why the fuck did you call?”

“I just—I only—” Nick’s breath hitched as he meekly said, “I just wanted to see you again. You weren’t what I was expecting.”

Genuine confusion colored Luke’s features. He released Nick and sat back in his seat, staring at him in bewilderment. Nick yanked his hand back, rubbing his wrist anxiously.

Finally, Luke prompted, “You’re sure you know who I am?”

“You’re a Verosik.”

“And do you know what that means?”

“I know your family has a lot of power. I know you have a lot of power,” Nick said slowly. After a beat of hesitation, he scooched forward and added, “I didn’t think you would be. . . the way you were.”

“Really? And how was I?”

“You were good to me.”

Luke looked taken aback by the sentiment. He flapped a hand at Nick and snorted, “So, what, is this some sort of fucking power trip?”

“No, I just. . . I thought maybe. . .” Nick gulped and mumbled, “I thought you might be different.”

“Ah. So this is one of those ‘I can change him’ type of deals.”

“No, no, I don’t want to change you. That’s not what I want,” Nick countered quickly, not wanting to offend him. “I just want to be with you. That’s all.”

Luke stared at him long and hard. Nick squirmed uncomfortably, waiting for a verdict. Suddenly, Luke relaxed back in his seat, recrossed his legs, and scrutinized him with fresh interest. His gaze raked up and down, and it was one of the few times in his life Nick understood what it meant to have someone undress him with their eyes.

“So, hypothetically,” Luke began, his voice dropping to a sultry drawl, “if I were to bend you over this table and fuck you right here, how into that would you be?”

Nick’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. He shut his mouth and glanced nervously around the enclosed space.

“In the restaurant?” he asked in a small voice.

The closest thing he’d ever had to public sex was in a Dairy Queen bathroom, with one of the kinkier women he’d dated. It had taken some convincing for him to warm up to the idea, but he had admittedly enjoyed the thrill. This was different, though. He wasn’t about to drop his pants for someone in the middle of a classy restaurant where anyone and everyone could see them.

Luke picked up his wine and chuckled, “Yeah, you’d be into that.”

Nick squirmed uncomfortably on his seat. “Only if no one actually saw us.”

Luke let out a sharp bark of laughter at that.

“What would they do about it if they did?”

“I just don’t like people watching,” Nick insisted.

It was one of the few reservations he had with sex. He could do it in a public setting, but only so long as he and his partner were in a sequestered space, one that offered some amount of privacy. He’d never been into full-on voyeurism, accidental or otherwise.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Luke remarked, raising an eyebrow. “What are you into, then? You seem like the type who likes to be tied down.”

“W-Well, I mean, I—”

“Face down, ass up? Maybe some toys? You seem like you’d be into vibrators.”

“Luke, we’re in a restaurant.” Nick’s face burned, but despite the circumstances, he was already half-hard at Luke’s suggestions. It wasn’t fair for such a shitty person to be so effortlessly sexy.

“Yes, we are. Very astute observation, Nick. Do you prefer being on the bottom?”

Nick bashfully nodded. He was too embarrassed to say anything aloud as the maître d’, blank-faced and silent, came by to refill their glasses. Luke unabashedly went on, “I figured. Based on how vocal you were the other night, I guessed you prefer taking over giving. You were pretty good at oral, too. Had a lot of dicks in your mouth in college?”

When the maître d’ left, Nick leaned in and hissed, “Can we please not talk about this here?”

Luke leaned in as well and grabbed Nick’s jaw with bruising force, pulling him closer. Nick stiffened, and his cheeks flushed hotter.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, why’d you want to do this in the first place?” Luke purred.

“I-I thought we. . . I thought we could. . . you know. . . go back to your place.” Gathering his courage, Nick batted his eyes, nibbled his lip, and said, “I figured I could show you what I like there.”

“God, you’re so fucking cute.” Luke clicked his tongue appreciatively. “What do you say we cut dinner short, then? I’ll get the check.”

*****

Luke slung an arm around Nick as he dragged him into the foyer of his manor. Nick laughed and wriggled out of his arms, then grabbed his hand and tugged him up the stairs. Luke eagerly followed, pulling his tie loose as he did, until they reached the top of the landing, where he cupped Nick’s face and captured his mouth in a hard, hungry kiss. His lithe hands slipped under Nick’s shirt to feel over bare skin, but before they could go any further, a loud, raspy voice called, “Luthor.”

Fear pierced Nick’s heart when Luke went rigid against him. Luke pulled away and turned to face the person who’d spoken. He subtly nudged Nick behind him, but Nick peeked around his shoulder to see who it was. For a split second, he was sure his heart stopped.

Standing just down the hallway was a man Nick immediately recognized as Luke’s father, Tobias Verosik. He had the same white-blond hair, intense blue eyes, and elegant features, but his face was lined with age, and he carried himself with an air of chilly animosity that even Luke didn’t have. He was hunched over a silver cane, and his mouth was twisted into an ugly frown. He looked like he hadn’t smiled in years. His cold blue eyes flicked past his son and locked onto Nick with narrow disapproval. Nick shrank under the weight of his glare, hiding behind Luke.

“Dad,” Luke said curtly. He said the word with a lilt of sarcasm, as if it was a long-running, unfunny joke. His voice, icy cold, lacked any trace of affection.

“What the fuck is this?” Tobias demanded, gesturing to Nick with his cane.

Tense silence settled over the hallway. Nick could feel the eyes of servants and guards alike. He guessed Luke’s father didn’t visit often.

“With all due respect, old man, it’s none of your goddamn business.” Luke slid his hands into his pockets and leaned his weight on one hip, as if he was perfectly at ease. The venom dripping from his tone said otherwise.

“Christ, I can’t believe you’re still stuck in this phase,” Tobias grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Before Luke could retort, he dismissed the subject with a flippant hand wave and said, “We’re waiting in the study. I brought your sister. Your cousin Alyssa decided to drop by, too.”

“You brought Danica?” Luke asked sharply.

“She’s old enough to learn how we operate.”

“She’s fourteen.”

“And? I brought you and your brother to meetings earlier than that.”

“She doesn’t need to see—”

“We’ve been waiting for an hour, Luthor,” Tobias interrupted, tapping his cane impatiently. He scowled at Nick and snapped, “Send that fagtard back to wherever you found him. This is important.”

Without another word, he turned and strode down the hall, disappearing into an open room. Luke glared after him, silently seething. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw was tight, and his shoulders shook with visible rage. Nick desperately wanted to know what this meeting was about, but Luke was way too on edge to directly ask.

Deciding to play it safe, Nick piped up, “Would it be better if I left? We could try again tomorrow.”

“No,” Luke decided after a moment. He broke into a brisk stride and snapped, “You’re coming with me. You ought to meet my parents, anyway.”

Nick trotted after him, almost having to jog to keep up. Excitement bubbled at the thought of snagging intel directly from the inner circle, but at the same time, his brain looped through all the different ways he might accidentally prompt the Verosiks to kill him. He made a silent resolution that he wouldn’t speak unless he was spoken to, wouldn’t ask questions no matter how badly he wanted to.

When they reached the study, Luke abruptly stopped just outside the door. He whirled on Nick, grabbed his arm, and hissed, “Keep your mouth fucking shut and stay behind me. You’re a ditsy hookup I met at a bar, and you don’t have any connections to anyone, not even the Blindlights. You’re nobody. Got it?”

Nick nodded vehemently, shrinking back from the uncharacteristic urgency in his voice. Luke released his arm, took a deep breath, and strode into the study. He held his head high and fixed his face into an arrogant smirk. Nick stuck close behind him, clinging to his side like a barnacle as he took in the waiting Verosiks.

Tobias sat in a windowside armchair with a cigar clamped between his teeth, glaring around at the rest of the room. Seated on a small sofa behind him was a pale, cadaverous woman who Nick guessed to be his wife, Marissa. She sat straight and still as a statue, hands folded in her lap, eyes staring blankly into the middle distance. Beside her was a young girl (Luke’s sister Danica, Nick guessed) who had her hair done in crisp braided pigtails. She swung her legs and fidgeted with the hem of her short blue dress.

Across the room, a tall, lanky young man leaned against a bookcase. His blond hair was cropped short, and his chin sported a layer of pale stubble. Anthony, Luke’s brother.

The last Verosik could only be Alyssa, draped lazily across a couch like a cat. She wore a sleek black dress with a plunging neckline and a long slit up the side, which revealed one milky thigh. Her neck and wrists were manacled in jewelry, and her hair was tied back in a net of intricate plaits. Her eyes were a darker shade of blue than those of the other Verosiks, and her features were rounder, softer, but her gaze somehow felt more violating and devious than any of the others.

“Sorry to keep everyone waiting,” Luke said dryly. He sauntered over to Alyssa’s couch and plunked onto the cushions beside her. He grabbed Nick’s hand and tugged him down, so Nick was forced to squeeze between him and the arm of the sofa. He squirmed as the Verosiks’ eyes zeroed in on him.

“Who’s your new boy toy?” Alyssa drawled, leaning around Luke to scrutinize Nick.

From across the room, Anthony muttered, “Hopefully not another rat.”

“Are you never going to shut up about that guy?” Luke snapped. “I knew what he was up to as soon as he asked for my number.”

Alyssa snorted. “Sure you did. That’s why he had time to suck your dick, roofie you, and steal a bunch of account numbers. He would have gotten away with it, too, if Tanidev hadn’t decided to clock in a few minutes early.”

“Fuck off, Alyssa. One hard drive is nothing next to what your second husband tried to sell to the feds. He was the only one you had a good reason to kill.”

“Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Luke echoed with a roll of his eyes.

Anthony slunk forward to get a better look at Nick. “And you’re positive this one hasn’t been poking his nose into anything he shouldn’t?”

“Shut your cunt mouth, Tony. You’re the reason we’re having this meeting, you dick. Anyway, this one is. . .” Luke peered sideways at Nick with feigned concentration and asked, “What did you say your name was?”

Nick knew it was for show, but he couldn’t help feeling a little hurt by that.

“Nick.”

“Right. Family, Nick; Nick, family.” Luke gave his shoulder a squeeze and said, “I wouldn’t normally bring him in, but I’m thinking of keeping this one. Ain’t that right, babe?”

Nick gulped and nodded, forcing a smile. He didn’t dare look at Tobias, but he could feel those frosty eyes boring into him.

After a long, loud pause, Tobias said through gritted teeth, “I thought I made it clear that this was a family meeting. Verosiks only.”

“Relax, Dad, he’s not going to—”

“Is he a fucking Verosik, Luthor?”

Luke’s grip tightened on Nick’s arm to the point of being painful. His manicured nails dug through the cheap fabric of the blazer. He stared his father down for a brief eternity before heaving a sigh of mock defeat.

“Tanidev, get in here.”

Tanidev opened the door and stood expectantly with his hands behind his back.

“Yes, sir?”

“Take Nick up to my room.”

Tanidev strode to the couch and placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder. Nick obediently stood, suddenly very eager to leave. His earlier excitement was gone. He didn’t care about information anymore; he just wanted to get away from Luke’s family.

As he followed Tanidev, Luke playfully slapped his ass and added, “Put on something cute. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Nick made the mistake of glancing across the room at Tobias. The older man’s lip curled with distaste, and his hands were tight on his cane. The loathing in his eyes made Nick want to hide behind Tanidev. Tobias didn’t voice his discontentment, however, as Nick left the room and Tanidev shut the door, closing them off from the Verosiks.

In the hall, Nick perked up at the sound of shuffling around the corner. He craned his neck to see who it was, but his view was blocked when Tanidev planted himself in the way.

“You shouldn’t see this,” he said gruffly.

“Sorry, I was just. . .”

Nick’s words died on his lips when two guards rounded the corner dragging a bloody, beaten mess of a person between them. Blood trailed across the clean floor in their wake, and Nick heard the prisoner—a woman—utter a low, broken moan. One of the guards opened the door to the study, and they toted the woman inside. A lock clicked into place, and a muffled conversation started up behind the door.

Nick found himself unable to peel his eyes from the bloody trail on the floor. In a shaky voice, he asked, “Who was that?”

“No one you need to worry about.”

“What are they going to do to her?”

“Couldn’t say. They like to vary their techniques.”

Nick’s stomach turned. He felt lightheaded. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. After a moment of silence, Tanidev grabbed his arm and said, “You don’t want to hear what happens next. Trust me.”

Nick didn’t resist as Tanidev led him down the hall and out of sight of the study. He didn’t look back, but he couldn’t help wincing when he heard a distant scream.

*****

Nick sat on Luke’s bed with his knees tucked up to his chest, glancing at the clock every few minutes. It had been close to two hours since he’d left the study, but he’d received no indication that Luke would be coming upstairs anytime soon.

Luke had instructed him to wear “something cute,” but Nick wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. He’d ended up stripping down to his underwear and borrowing one of Luke’s shirts. He’d tried asking for Tanidev’s opinion, but the guard was carefully tightlipped in his response and had only said that Luke wasn’t hard to please.

At long last, the door opened, and Luke walked in, massaging his neck with a tired sigh. His blazer and tie were draped over one arm, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows. Nick’s eyes widened at the sight of blood splattered across his clean white shirt. There were speckles of it on his hands, too, as if he hadn’t quite managed to wash all of it off. He stopped in the middle of the room, and a smirk tugged at his lips when his eyes fell on Nick.

“Don’t you look indecent?” he teased, dumping his blazer unceremoniously on the floor. He knelt on the bed and crawled over top of Nick, pushing him down onto his back. He undid the first few buttons of his shirt, exposing the tattoos on his chest. Nick tried to relax as Luke dragged his fingers through his hair and dotted kisses along the side of his neck, but he was all too aware of the residual blood on Luke’s hands.

“Um. . . Luke?”

“Hm?”

“Can. . . Can I ask about something?”

“Mmhm,” Luke hummed, not breaking away from Nick’s neck.

“What was that meeting about? I saw the guards take someone into the study, and she looked really. . .”

He trailed off when he felt Luke tense. Luke pulled away with a sigh, sitting back on his knees and resting his hands on Nick’s thighs. He regarded Nick wearily.

“You saw that, huh?”

“You don’t have to tell me anything important, but what did she do? Broadly speaking? I don’t need details or anything.”

“She was one of Tony’s maids. They started fucking, and secrets started leaking. We traced the leaks back to her. Turns out she’s a fed.”

“So that’s what you meant when you said—”

“The meeting was because of him. Yeah.”

Nick processed the information in silence. Luke cocked his head and remarked, “You look nervous.”

“Yup.”

Luke reached forward and tilted Nick’s face up with surprising gentleness. Nick met his eyes, and Luke asked, “What’s going on in your head, honey? You don’t think I’m planning on torturing you anytime soon, do you?”

“No, I-I don’t think that,” Nick said quickly, shaking his head and averting his eyes.

“But you’re afraid of me.”

“I’m. . .” Nick reluctantly admitted, “I’m afraid you’ll hurt me.”

“Why?”

Nick shrugged, shrinking back against the pillows. Luke leaned over him and pecked a kiss to his lips. He pulled away, looked Nick right in the eye, and said with an ominous chill, “Don’t give me a reason to, and I won’t.”

He moved in for another kiss. Nick had no choice but to shut his eyes and lay still as Luke’s hands wandered over his body and slipped past the waistband of his boxers. He tried to relax, but all he could think was that he would never be able to shower off that bloody residue.

Chapter Text

The limo rolled to a stop outside the steel mill, parking right beside Nick’s car. One of the guards got out and opened the door, but Nick didn’t move to exit the vehicle. He sat like a statue, hands folded in his lap, eyes wide and faraway. Every few seconds, a tremor shivered through his body.

“Hm. For all your complaining earlier, you don’t seem too eager to leave,” Luke remarked. Unlike Nick, he was perfectly at ease, sitting with one graceful leg crossed over the other and an arm draped across the back of the seat. His hair, damp from a recent shower, was tied in a long, loose braid. His eyes gleamed with triumph.

Nick didn’t say a word. He finally started towards the open door, but Luke suddenly grabbed his shoulder and exclaimed, “Hang on a sec, babe, I almost forgot something.”

Nick watched dully as Luke fished a slim white envelope from his jacket’s interior pocket and handed it to him. When Nick opened it, he found a thick stack of cash bound in a wide band.

“What is this?” he whispered. His tongue felt thick. He could hardly hear himself speak.

“Just a little compensation. Fun ain’t free nowadays. Not sure what your current rates are, but two grand ought to cover what we did tonight. How does that sound?”

Nick’s grip tightened on the envelope. His hands shook. He slowly turned to Luke, lifting his gaze to stare hatefully up at him.

Luke rolled his eyes at Nick’s expression and scoffed, “Oh, don’t give me that look. You should be grateful. I don’t usually pay for it. You gonna get the hell out of my car now, or were you planning on sleeping over?”

Nick didn’t retort. He didn’t want to sit there and talk to Luke any longer than he had to.

He slid to the edge of his seat and stepped out of the limo, but nearly fainted when his feet hit the ground. The simple act of bracing his weight on his legs to stand sent a fresh barrage of pain rocketing through his body. He leaned heavily against the door frame, suppressing a bout of nausea, before lurching away. He didn’t stop until he reached his own car, where he limped around to the driver’s side and grasped the door handle with trembling hands.

He froze when Luke called from the limo, “Buy yourself something nice to wear for next time. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

Nick opened his door with grueling slowness and all but collapsed into the driver’s seat. A low, guttural moan escaped him as he dragged himself upright and pulled the door shut. He hit the locks, shutting himself in the safety of his car. He barely noticed when Luke’s limo rolled away, leaving him alone outside the abandoned mill.

He stared down at the envelope of money he’d been given.

Two thousand dollars. Two thousand dollars to let Luke touch him. Two thousand dollars to let Luke use him.

“Not sure what your current rates are, but two grand ought to cover what we did tonight.”

His rates. His price. The price to use him. He was worth two thousand dollars.

“Buy yourself something nice to wear for next time. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

Next time. Luke wanted a next time.

Nick’s chest constricted, and a despairing, angry sob rocked through him, doubling him over against the steering wheel. He flung the envelope into the passenger seat with a noise of disgust and dropped his face into his hands. His palms were immediately wet with tears. He wanted to curl up into a tiny, shameful ball and hide from the world. He wanted to go home.

His mind locked onto the prospect of home. With a shallow, shaky breath, he dried his eyes and swiped his hands clean on his pants. He refused to look back at the mill as he drove down the gravelly path and turned onto the interstate. As he drew closer to the city limits, however, one lucid question stood at the forefront of his thoughts.

What the hell was he supposed to tell Alexander?

*****

Alexander paced rapidly across Nick’s loft, phone in hand, glancing up at the security cameras every time he passed them by. He’d been up for over two hours now, but he hadn’t yet changed into proper clothes. He was still in his pajamas.

Just after midnight, he’d stirred awake when something triggered his instincts. It was a fairly regular occurrence, being roused in the middle of the night by a mysterious something that only his Pflichttreue side could detect. Back home in The Hague, it was usually one of his flat neighbors moving around or the heater turning on. Here at Nick’s loft, it might be leaves blowing against the windows or the rumble of distant traffic. Sometimes it was nothing more than a reaction to a visceral dream.

When his animal instincts switched on tonight, he’d shivered awake with a sense of chilly isolation. He’d automatically rolled over to Nick’s side of the bed, if only for the comfort of a warm, familiar body beside him. Nick would grumble some unintelligible half-awake words and return the embrace, and Alexander would fall back asleep without a care in the world. That was how it always went.

This time, however, when he reached to the other side of Nick’s bed—their bed—there was no Nick. Only empty sheets and a cold mattress.

Alexander really woke up then, instincts on high alert. He’d called for Nick, asked where he was. Was he in the bathroom? Had he gotten up for a glass of water? Upon receiving no response, Alexander had tumbled out of bed, haphazardly yanked on his dressing gown and slippers, and searched every inch of the loft for his Grimm. He even checked the roof, where Nick was wont to brood once in a while.

That was when he noticed the absence of Nick’s phone, shoes, and jacket.

Alexander had tried calling him. No answer. Checking the security cameras revealed nothing; Nick’s car was still in the garage, alongside Alexander’s rental. He searched the tunnel from entrance to exit. No Nick. He’d resolved to turn back and scour the loft again when he remembered Nick’s emergency car. He poked his head outside the furnace door and saw that the car was missing from its hidden alcove, and the protective tarp was thrown off to the side in a heap.

Nick had snuck out in the dead of night, and he didn’t want Alexander to know where he was.

Alexander had lost count of how many texts and voicemails he’d sent after that. He’d tried reasoning with himself that Nick had probably been called into work for another emergency, but if that was the case, he wouldn’t have snuck out the way he did. He would have used the elevator and taken his normal vehicle. He would have told Alexander, or at least written a note. He would have bothered to answer at least one text.

Now, Alexander was left with nothing to do but pace and wait for Nick to return. The only thing that dissuaded him from leaving to track him down was the evidence pointing to Nick’s autonomous exit. No one had stolen away into the loft and kidnapped him; no one had forced him to leave. He’d grabbed his jacket and phone, gone out through the tunnel, and taken his emergency car. Whatever he was doing, he was doing of his own volition, acting on some sort of plan.

Although Alexander’s fine slippers, dressing gown, and silk pajamas were soiled by his sprint through the tunnels, he didn’t change or shower. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the tunnel door. For all he knew, Nick could return at any moment. Alexander had no way of knowing how long he’d been gone.

Alexander briefly ceased his pacing to stare at the cameras for the umpteenth time. No movement, no Nick. He cursed under his breath and tried calling again. The phone rang. . . and rang. . . and rang. The call went to voicemail. No Nick.

Alexander was almost desperate enough to go to Monroe and Rosalee’s house, where he could use them to contact Nick under the guise of Council business. It would compromise his currently covert position, but his patience was wearing thinner by the second. If Nick wouldn’t respond to him, surely he would come running to his friends’ aid.

All of a sudden, the tunnel door unlatched with a soft click and slowly, cautiously swung inward. Alexander nearly swooned with relief.

“Nick!” he cried, racing across the kitchen and throwing the door open.

Sure enough, Nick stood at the top of the ladder, one knee braced on the square frame. Before he could speak, Alexander threw his arms around him and yanked him in through the doorway. Nick yelped in surprise and tried to wriggle away, but Alexander held him firm, crushing him in a tight hug.

“Jesus, Alexander, I’m fine,” Nick protested.

Furious indignation shot through Alexander’s heart. He held Nick at arms’ length, gripping his shoulders.

“You’re fine, are you? Fine? Is that all you have to say for yourself?” he demanded.

Nick started to respond, but Alexander wasn’t finished. His Pflichttreue skin threatened to emerge as he berated, “Where were you? I woke up, and you were gone! No note, no call, nothing! A bloody text would have sufficed, but you left nothing! Why would you—”

That was when he noticed the smell.

He abruptly quieted, taking a moment to scrutinize Nick. His hair was disheveled, and his skin was clammy with dry sweat. His face was pale and strained, and his eyes—his eyes held a miserable, hollow cast that Alexander had seen before but had never dreamed of seeing on Nick. He looked tortured. He looked ashamed.

Above it all, though, he reeked of sex.

The unmistakable musk of another person—another man—hung over him like a shroud, permeating the air and making Alexander reel back as if he’d been physically struck.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved.

Alexander’s eyes fell from Nick’s face to his jacket. The collar was turned up and the zipper was pulled to his chin, concealing his neck. Fast as lightning, Alexander’s hands shot forward and snagged the zipper.

“Wait—” Nick started, but Alexander was faster than he was. He yanked the zipper down and shoved Nick’s jacket open. Nick lifted trembling hands to hide his neck, but Alexander grabbed his wrists and pulled them back down. Nick slumped in defeat as Alexander stared at his exposed skin.

Dark finger-shaped bruises wrapped around Nick’s throat like a choker. Small blotches—hickeys—had been planted all around his collarbones. Crescent bite marks were nipped into his skin along his shoulders and the sides of his neck; not hard enough to be permanent, but just enough to be noticeable.

By force of habit, Alexander’s face fixed itself into an emotionless mask. A million thoughts ran through his head, melded into a singular acknowledgement of an undeniable fact, then went silent. He released Nick’s wrists and dropped his arms heavily to his sides.

“Who were you with?” he asked, his voice flat.

“Does it matter?” Nick snapped, taking a step back. He pulled his phone from his pocket and tossed it onto the kitchen counter, then tugged his collar back up and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. His shoulders curled inward, like he was trying to look smaller.

Reexamining his defensive stance and that awful stretch of agony on his face, Alexander guessed, “Did he hurt you?”

“How do you know it was a ‘he’?”

The counter-question hit Alexander like a punch to the gut. Nick wasn’t even trying to lie about the fact that he’d been with someone else.

Alexander felt his mask start to slip as he said, “Because I can smell him on you, Nick.”

“Sorry. I thought I’d have time to shower before you got up.”

“He hurt you,” Alexander concluded, his eyes drifting back down to those terrible bruises.

A dark cloud of hatred bloomed in the depths of his heart—not for Nick, but for the man who had touched him.

Nick huffed irritably. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not your business.”

He turned away and headed for the bathroom. It was then that Alexander noticed he was limping.

The Pflichttreue inside him roared to life with vengeful wrath. It was unlike anything Alexander had felt before, devouring and insatiable and so alive with venomous hate it was almost frightening.

Nick had snuck out in the middle of the night to sleep with another man. That much would have hurt, but Alexander could have taken it in stride, however painful it might be. It wasn’t as if Nick belonged to him. It wasn’t as if they were partners.

But if his behavior was any indication, this secret liaison had not only touched Nick, but assaulted him.

“I believe it is very much my business,” Alexander growled, pursuing Nick out of the kitchen. His vision sharpened as his glowing green Pflichttreue eyes took hold. He grabbed Nick’s arm, spun him back around, and demanded, “Who was it? Who did this to you?”

“No one!” Nick cried, recoiling from his intensity.

“So I’m to believe that no one placed those marks on you? Who was it, Nick?”

“Why do you care? You wouldn’t even know who he is,” Nick snapped.

“Then I will find out. I am not without resources, Nick. The Council—”

“The Council sends you here to fuck me every other weekend, not kill other people I sleep with! You’ve been doing your job just fine, so why would they care about anything else that happens here?”

Alexander rocked back as if Nick had slapped him. This wasn’t the first time the notion of Council-driven manipulation had been brought up, but never before had Nick deliberately weaponized the accusation. Regardless, Alexander held his ground.

“This person didn’t force himself on you, then? Is that what you would have me believe?”

“It doesn’t matter! It’s not your business!”

“It is my business! If someone hurt you, I need to know who they are!”

“Why? So you can go be my knight in shining armor and hunt them down for me?” Nick’s voice rose to a shout, and his face twisted with anger. “That’s not why you come to Portland! You’re not my boyfriend, Alexander!”

Loud silence settled over the loft. They glared each other down, and for a minute that felt like an eternity, neither of them moved or spoke. A deep-seated ache enveloped Alexander’s heart, muffling his animal rage, but no matter how badly Nick’s words hurt him, he couldn’t simply leave this alone. He gritted his teeth and tried again, lowering his volume this time in an effort to ease the tension.

“I know that, Nick, but—”

“I think you should leave.”

Alexander’s eyes melted back into their natural human shade of green. He fell back a step, his lips parting in a soft gasp.

Nick had never outright told him to leave before.

In his years serving the Wesen Council, Alexander’s mind had developed the habit of walling off pain and rerouting to solve whatever problem he was faced with. He did that now, mentally stepping back and reevaluating the situation.

He suddenly realized that, because of his immediate anger at the unseen other man, he’d been handling this poorly, to say the least. It wasn’t hard to see that Nick was badly hurt. He probably wasn’t accustomed to processing such raw, vulnerable pain, hence his defensiveness. Treating this like an interrogation was the worst mistake Alexander could have made.

Taking a deep breath, Alexander moved forward and reached for Nick’s hands. Nick yanked his hands away, so Alexander didn’t push for physical contact.

“Nick, I. . . I apologize. I should not address you in such a manner. Regardless of our relationship’s officiality, I do care for you, and I do not come here simply because the Council orders it. Please don’t hide from me. I only want—”

He lifted a hand to touch Nick’s face, but Nick jerked away and stepped back, broadening the distance between them. Alexander didn’t move from where he stood, not wanting to further provoke him.

Nick’s voice wavered as he looked Alexander in the eye and stated, “You told me once that if I wanted you to leave, you would leave. I’m telling you now: I want you to leave. If you mean anything you’ve said about caring for me, get out.”

He turned away, yanked open the bathroom door, and said over his shoulder, “Pack your shit. I’m taking a shower. I want you gone by the time I’m done.”

Alexander was quiet for a long time. Finally, he dropped his gaze and nodded.

“If that’s what you want.”

Without another word, Nick walked into the bathroom and slammed the door. Alexander stared after him, still as a statue. It wasn’t until he heard the shower turn on that he finally moved.

He felt empty as a ghost as he drifted through the loft. He changed into proper attire, gathered his effects, and packed them neatly into his suitcase. He was only half aware of what he was doing as he rode the elevator down to the garage and climbed into his car.

*****

Nick stood hunched over the sink, his hands gripping either side of the basin like a vice. He’d been out of the shower for close to twenty minutes, but he couldn’t seem to make himself leave the bathroom. He couldn’t even look in the mirror.

The shower had helped, but everything hurt.

His neck wasn’t the only place Luke had left his mark. His entire body was black and blue, and his ass and thighs were striped with swollen red lines where Luke had lashed him with a belt. His genitals throbbed from the abuse they’d taken in a painfully tight cage. His jaw ached from being propped open with a ball gag for hours. Luke had spared plenty of lube for himself, but had forgone all preparation for Nick. He hadn’t even used any spit. As a result, Nick’s anus was raw and scabbed where he’d bled from the friction.

A part of Nick was grateful that Luke hadn’t tried to make it good for him. He could handle pain. It wasn’t fun, but he could dust himself off and get back up afterwards. Forced pleasure might have been worse, in a twisted sort of way.

That hadn’t made tonight any more bearable, though.

His gaze slowly drifted up to the mirror. He hated the person he saw reflected in it. He hated how hollow and defeated his eyes looked. He hated how the splatter of bruises on his skin made him look smaller, as if they reached deeper than flesh.

Unable to stand the sight of himself any longer, Nick pushed away from the sink, tied a soft blue robe around himself (a gift from Alexander, his mind recalled unhelpfully), and limped to the bathroom door. He paused as his hand alighted on the knob.

“Pack your shit. I’m taking a shower. I want you gone by the time I’m done.”

He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have sent Alexander away. As disgusted as he was with himself, and even as he could feel phantom hands all over his body—inside his body—the last thing he wanted was to be alone.

“If you mean anything you’ve said about caring for me, get out.”

That was something Luke would have said. Nick balled a fist against his mouth to stifle a shuddering breath.

“If that’s what you want.”

Maybe Alexander had only said that to avoid further argument. Maybe he hadn’t left, and was just giving Nick a chance to cool down. Maybe he was waiting in Nick’s bedroom—in their bedroom—to talk things out. Maybe he was waiting to wrap Nick up in his arms and tell him everything was going to be alright.

Alexander knew something was wrong; of course he would be waiting. Nick eased the door open and hesitantly peeked out.

“Alexander?” he called, his voice a hoarse rasp. When he didn’t see Alexander, he stepped out of the bathroom. “I’m sorry I said those things. Are you still here? Can we talk?”

Silence.

Nick hugged himself and choked out, “Alexander?”

More silence.

Desperation gripped Nick’s heart, and he hobbled to the kitchen to check the security cameras. The buzzing screens revealed that his car now sat alone in the garage. Alexander was gone.

Nick clapped a hand over his mouth and sank to the floor against the counter, shuddering under the weight of silent tears.

He didn’t want to sleep alone. He didn’t want to be alone. But he’d sent away the one person who, in that moment, could have given him the comfort he needed.

He didn’t care about how superficial their relationship was. He didn’t care about the Council. He didn’t care about the risks. He just wanted Alexander back.

He tried to stand, but crumpled back down to his knees with a cry of pain. He tugged himself up just enough to hang on the edge of the kitchen counter, where he fumbled around for his cell phone. When he finally reached it, he dropped back down to the floor. With shaking hands, he scrolled through his contacts for Alexander. Before he could call, however, he froze, his finger hovering over the screen.

Alexander didn’t want to talk to him.

The phone slipped from Nick’s hands and landed on the floor with a thud. He leaned back against the counter and shut his eyes.

Of course Alexander was gone. His efforts to offer support had been furiously rejected, so he’d done what he’d once promised he would do and left.

Nick dragged himself to his feet and stumbled to his bedroom. He collapsed into bed, crawling under the covers and drawing himself into a tight, miserable ball. He was all alone now, and he had no one to blame but himself.

*****

Alexander couldn’t remember when he’d last stayed alone in the Hotel deLuxe. He recalled inviting Nick over once or twice, but that had been more or less a sexual experiment, because he’d liked the idea of having Nick in his own bed for a change.

Now, as he lay on the soft mattress, staring up at the ceiling, the room felt sterile and empty. It didn’t feel at all like his. The silence was a stark change from Nick’s loft, which always had some comforting ambience.

Alexander’s skin rippled with roiling emotion, and he made no effort to suppress his woge.

What was he doing? Why was he here, alone, and not with Nick?

Nick told him to leave. That was why. He’d told him to get out, and Alexander was respecting his wishes.

But how could he just leave?

Something had to be done. Nick was far too upset to discuss what may or may not have happened, so perhaps a direct approach was the wrong way to go about it. Alexander wasn’t certain how welcome he would be if he returned to the loft, but something needed to be done, and it needed to be done as soon as possible.

Before he knew he’d made a decision, he was out of bed, striding from his hotel room. He didn’t need to change, since he hadn’t bothered to undress when he’d gotten in. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. With renewed determination, he stalked outside to the parking lot, got in his car, and rolled out onto the street.

If Nick wouldn’t talk to him, perhaps he would talk to his friends.

It was time for Alexander to make his presence in Portland known.

Chapter Text

Nick waved over his shoulder to Elouise as he hopped down the front steps of her condo.

“Glad you’re doing well, sweetie!” she called. Leaning forward on her cane, she added, “Say hi to Luke for me!”

“I will! Thanks, El!”

An easygoing grin, now a well-practiced expression, remained on Nick’s face as he climbed into the black limo waiting at the curb. Luke sat inside with two of his guards, Tanidev and Renbach, sitting across the way. Nick sidled onto the seat beside Luke, cuddling habitually close to him.

“She’s adorable,” Luke chuckled, slinging an arm around him.

“I know. She’s kind of like a second aunt,” Nick agreed. “I don’t know where I’d be without her. Thanks for giving me a ride again, by the way.”

“No problem, honey. Your car’s still in the shop?”

“Yeah. I tried asking Tom for a loan, but he just told me to carpool.”

“Well, you can get a ride from me anytime, babe.” Luke leaned down to nip playfully at Nick’s jaw.

They’d been officially seeing each other for close to two weeks now, and things were going smoothly—much more so than Nick had anticipated. Luke had warmed up to him quickly, and Nick now spent more time with him—whether it be at his manor, at a club, or exploring the city—than he did with the Blindlights.

Nick had to admit, he’d expected it to be harder to feign affection for Luke. But Luke had proven easy to get along with thus far, so Nick had no trouble playing his role (he occasionally forgot it was a role, but he was trying not to think too hard about the implications of that).

The only hiccup was that he hadn’t managed to collect any intel the police didn’t already have. This was his second visit with Elouise, and he had nothing to pass on. Spending empty time with her at least served to boost his cover story.

Nick giggled as Luke kissed his neck and said, “I have a meeting with my folks this evening, but I’ve still got a few hours before then. What do you say we fool around for a little while?”

One of his fine, dexterous hands slid up Nick’s thigh and moved inward. Nick gently pushed his hand off-course, casting a flustered smile at the two silent guards.

“Sure, but let’s just wait until we get back to your place. Save the fun for the bedroom, right?”

“Take it easy, babe. We can have a little fun right here,” Luke said with a laugh.

Nick squeaked in surprise when Luke grabbed and maneuvered him with startling agility. In one easy movement, Nick was straddling his lap, and Luke was pulling him into a hungry kiss. His hands roamed over Nick’s back and settled on his ass. Had they been alone, Nick would have allowed it, but he found himself shying under the guards’ watchful eyes.

He broke away and pressed, “Can’t we just wait until we get back?”

Luke frowned. “What’s the matter, honey? You seemed so excited a minute ago.”

“I just. . . I’d feel more comfortable doing this in your room,” Nick said with as passive a tone as he could muster. When Luke didn’t release him, he flashed a pointed glance over his shoulder at Tanidev and Renbach.

Luke followed his gaze, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise as if he’d forgotten the guards were there. He scoffed and leaned back down to nuzzle Nick’s neck.

“Relax, they don’t care. When I interview for guards, I make sure all my hires either occasionally or exclusively swing towards men.”

“But I would really rather—”

“Besides, these two have been with me for years. This ain’t anything they haven’t already seen.”

“Luke, please stop, I just want to wait until we get to your place. Please, can we do that?”

Nick braced his hands on Luke’s chest and tried to slide off his lap, but Luke suddenly grabbed both his wrists with bruising strength. Nick gasped and tried to twist away, but Luke’s grip was like iron. When Nick looked up, those piercing blue eyes were narrowed with irritation, and his beautiful face had lost all semblance of warmth. It was as if a switch had been flipped. Nick got the sick feeling he’d just royally fucked up.

“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden, hm?” Luke inquired, his tone hard as steel. His grip tightened to the point of being painful.

Nick swallowed and mumbled, “Luke, you’re hurting me—”

“Wouldn’t expect you to be so damn prudish, considering how much you normally put out for me,” Luke said with a mean sneer.

Nick flinched as if he’d been hit. He glanced back at the guards and met Tanidev’s eyes, silently pleading for him to do something. His heart plummeted when Tanidev apathetically averted his gaze.

Luke shook Nick roughly and snapped, “What are you looking at him for? You think he’s going to do shit? You look at me when I fucking talk to you.”

“Please, Luke, I’m not saying no, I just want to wait. That’s all I’m asking. I just. . . I don’t like people watching.”

Relief flooded him when Luke’s glare softened and his grip went slack. As if that invisible switch had clicked back to normal, a gentle smile crossed his face, and he released Nick.

“Sure, honey. Whatever works for you,” he conceded pleasantly.

“Thank you,” Nick whispered, sliding off his lap and curling up on the cushioned seat. He tensed when Luke draped an arm around his shoulders.

Fear gnawed at the edges of Nick’s heart when he caught Tanidev’s gaze again and saw a spark of pity in his eyes. It was the same look he’d given him the first night he’d slept with Luke. But as quickly as it came, it disappeared, and Tanidev faced straight ahead.

Nick felt like he’d been shown a peek behind an imaginary curtain. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d glimpsed a side of Luke which had been previously hidden, and in doing so had incurred some sort of horrible penalty. So, while Luke was as chatty as ever, Nick just smiled and nodded, and didn’t utter a word for the rest of the drive.

*****

Although Luke’s abrupt personality change in the limo left Nick slightly more on guard than usual, he was somewhat relaxed by the time they arrived at the manor. Luke helped him out of the car, and Renbach and Tanidev escorted them inside.

As they headed to Luke’s suite, their arms linked together, Nick hesitantly piped up, “I’m sorry, Luke.”

“What for?”

“For what happened in the car.”

He felt Luke tense at the mention of the incident. To avoid flipping the switch again, he quickly said, “You know, just. . . whatever I did to upset you. I’m sorry. I really like being with you.”

Luke booped Nick’s nose with one manicured finger.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, honey.”

When they arrived at Luke’s suite, all seemed well. They entered, arm in arm, and stopped before the bed, where Luke carded his fingers through Nick’s hair and smiled lovingly down at him. Tanidev and Renbach started to retreat from the room, but Luke suddenly raised a hand and said, “Stop. You two stay. Shut the door.”

Renbach closed the door, then returned to stand silently beside Tanidev. Nick gaped at them, then at Luke, fresh fear blossoming in his heart.

“Luke, I said I was sorry, what—”

“Take off your clothes.”

Nick swallowed a lump in his throat and glanced at the guards again.

“Luke, I don’t want them to—”

“Assist him.”

Luke gave him a hard shove. Nick stumbled back, falling straight into the guards’ awaiting arms. Before he could process what was happening, they were grabbing him and forcibly stripping his clothes from his body. Nick kicked and thrashed, fighting desperately to escape, but he was no match for both of them.

When they finally released him, he lunged away so fast that he staggered and almost fell. He was left standing in the middle of the room, buck naked, looking frantically around for something to cover himself. Luke moved towards him, and Nick shrank away from his towering presence.

Luke cupped his chin and said in a sickly sweet croon, “Maybe you don’t fully understand this, Nick, but the whole point of having guards is to have reliable people protecting you. This might be a little much for you to process, because I have noticed that you tend to be on the slow side, but ‘reliability’ implies a certain level of trust. These two men have been on my payroll for years. I trust them. Since you’re apparently having a hard time doing the same, I feel it’s my responsibility to. . . acclimate you.”

Nick shook his head wildly. “Luke, please, I don’t—”

“Hold him down. Go ahead and prep him while you’re at it. I have to touch up my eyeliner,” Luke ordered. Without a backward glance, he turned and walked calmly into the bathroom.

Panic seized Nick, and he made a break for the exit, but Tanidev and Renbach grabbed him before he could get within five feet of the door. With disturbingly little effort, they bent him over the edge of Luke’s bed, pressing him face-down into the soft coverlet.

In that instant, Nick forgot that he had a job to do. All he could think was that he needed to get out.

He screamed and thrashed, but his efforts were in vain. Renbach pressed in behind him, forcing his legs apart and pinning them against the side of the bed. Tanidev planted one hand on his back and held his wrists securely over his head with the other. Nick was nearly immobile under their combined strength. He babbled out a string of pleading cries, but his words melded into a harsh shriek when Renbach forced one dry finger into his ass. Renbach initiated a rough, graceless rhythm, making no attempt to pleasure Nick. The only semblance of lube came when he shoved a second finger in and Nick began to bleed under the assault.

When Renbach deemed his prep work satisfactory, he removed his fingers and called to Luke, “Whenever you’re ready, boss.”

“You prepped him?”

“Well enough.”

“Good.”

Renbach and Tanidev shifted to stand on either side of Nick, making room for Luke to move in behind him. Nick squirmed and sobbed, his pleas nearly incomprehensible in his hysteria.

Luke ran a hand over Nick’s ass, then delivered a harsh smack to one buttock. Nick’s stomach was wrung tight with nausea at the sound of a belt unbuckling. He whimpered in helpless terror as Luke leaned over him and hissed, “Don’t ever forget who you belong to. You don’t get to say no to me.”

Nick felt the hard, wet tip of Luke’s cock press against his entrance. Then Luke forced his way inside with one rough thrust, and Nick’s vision whited out. A shrill, guttural scream tore from his lips. His muscles clenched involuntarily against the intrusion, which only made it worse as Luke drove deeper.

He couldn’t move. He could hardly breathe. His screams soon dissolved into a disjointed refrain of breathless shrieks. Tears streamed down his face, and his chest tightened with hitched sobs and shallow gasps. Every thrust burned with corrosive friction. Every hard strike seemed to hit deeper than the last. The whole thing felt like some visceral fever dream, but at the same time, the sheer, ravaging agony kept him starkly aware of each passing second, making minutes feel like an eternity.

Nick wasn’t sure how long it lasted—it could have been minutes, it could have been hours—but he wasn’t coherent enough to beg or even speak by the time Luke finished. He wasn’t even aware it was over until Luke pulled out.

Nick choked out a final sob as Luke smacked his ass again and stepped away. Renbach and Tanidev released him, letting him fall to the floor in a quivering heap. Nick pulled himself to his knees, clinging to the bed for support, and hugged his arms tightly across his bare chest. He could feel blood drying in sticky streaks where it dripped down his thighs. The distinct reek of urine hung in the air, and he was struck with a fresh stab of humiliation when he realized that he must have lost control of his bladder at some point.

As Luke zipped up and buckled his belt, he sneered down at Nick and said, “Aw, come on, babe, it wasn’t all that bad, was it?”

Nick curled in tighter on himself, shrinking away from Luke with a shuddering whine. Luke nudged him with a foot, and he recoiled.

Luke smacked him lightly upside the head, earning a meek whimper, and posed, “Are you done for the day, honey? Is that what I’m seeing? Are you all tuckered out?” He jerked a thumb at the guards. “Have you taken any consideration for how they’re doing? Renbach’s hard as a goddamn rock, and Tanidev’s probably on his way there. They don’t get a lot of private time to blow off steam.”

“Please,” Nick whispered, gulping in a loud, rattly breath.

Luke ignored him, turning to Renbach and asking, “How would you feel about a quick blowie?”

Renbach hesitantly responded, “I wouldn’t presume to—”

“You’re not presuming anything. I’m giving you permission to fuck him. He’s cute. You like?”

Renbach stared down at Nick. His interest was written across his face, clear as day, but he glanced back at Luke and asked, “Are you. . . is this a serious offer? I wouldn’t touch him without your express allowance.”

“Christ, I gotta spell it out for you?” Luke snapped with a roll of his eyes. “I’m ordering you to put your dick in his mouth. You, too, Tanidev, as soon as Renbach’s finished.”

Tanidev’s face tightened, and his hands clenched. “That’s really not necessary, sir. I—”

“Shut up and take the favor. I like this one, so I can’t promise either of you will get another opportunity. It’ll be good for him. Gotta break ‘em in proper, right?”

Luke crouched down and said with vile tenderness, “Nick, baby, are you listening to me?”

“Y-yes,” Nick whispered, having no choice but to comply.

“Good, because I hate having to repeat myself. These boys have earned themselves a bonus, so you’re going to suck them both off, starting with Renbach. You’ll perform capably and eagerly, because they deserve a few minutes of fun. Any questions?”

“No, Luke, please, I don’t want to—” Nick begged, reaching for Luke’s shirt, but Luke shoved him away with a revolted scoff.

“Christ, don’t touch me, you’re a fucking mess. Just sit up and open your mouth. It ain’t that hard.”

Luke stood and walked away, taking a seat in an armchair across the room to watch. Renbach was quick to take his place, grabbing a fistful of Nick’s hair and yanking him upright.

“You heard him. Open up,” Renbach growled, unzipping his trousers. “This might not happen again, so I’ll be sure to enjoy it.”

He shoved his cock into Nick’s mouth with brutal force, immediately hitting the back of his throat. Nick gagged and tried to pull away, but Renbach held him firmly in place and snapped his hips forward in a sharp thrust. He planted his large hands on either side of Nick’s head, preventing all attempts to escape as he started up a vicious tempo.

As Nick choked and retched around Renbach’s cock, his eyes darted away in search of a focal point, anything else he could focus on. His gaze landed on Tanidev’s face, and a distant part of him was surprised to see the guard grimacing at the violent scene. Tanidev’s mouth curled in distaste, and he winced at every ruthless thrust as if he were the one taking the assault.

Nick begged him with his eyes to help, to intervene, to do anything other than stand by. But just as he had done in the car, Tanidev fixed his face into a veneer of cold neutrality and looked away. No help would come from him. The only thing Nick could do was take the onslaught and wait for the whole terrible thing to be over.

*****

“What do you want to do with him, boss?”

“Leave him be. I’ll come back tonight. I’ve got to meet my folks soon. Tanidev, you’ve got the first shift.”

“Yes, sir. You want me to get him cleaned up?”

“He can clean himself up. Just do your damn job and stand by the door.”

“Of course, sir. My apologies.”

“Whatever. Renbach, you’re with me.”

Nick was only half-listening as Luke instructed his guards. He lay on the floor where they’d left him, curled up on his side, shivering, struggling to steady his shallow breaths.

Everything hurt. His jaw ached and his tongue was numb, though he could still taste the salty, bitter residue of semen. His legs were leaden, his lower back spasmed painfully, and his ass was completely wrecked. Had he started shitting himself right there on the floor, he wouldn’t have had the motor control to stop. He doubted he’d be able to move anytime soon.

The door shut, and two sets of footsteps retreated down the hall. Nick lay where he was, shaking like a leaf, until the door quietly opened and someone walked into the room. They knelt behind him, and Nick flinched as a heavy, calloused hand alighted on his shoulder.

“Nick? Can you look at me?”

Nick’s wide, bloodshot eyes darted back to look up at Tanidev. Looming over him like that, Nick was acutely aware of how physically large he was. His jaw throbbed with the phantom ache of a cock in his mouth. Terror quickened his breath and made his gut twist with panic. Was Tanidev going to fuck him again? Nick wasn’t sure he could take another assault. Tanidev would break him in half.

Instead of hurting him, Tanidev was unexpectedly gentle as he slid one hand under Nick’s ribs and pulled him upright. Nick gasped as he was hit with a fresh onslaught of pain, and he lurched away from Tanidev.

“D-Don’t—d-don’t touch m-me,” he said, each word stuttering out in a hoarse gasp.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to—”

“I don’t—I d-don’t want—”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Nick, just—”

Nick pressed himself flat against the side of the bed, fresh tears bubbling in his eyes. Tanidev tried to touch his face, but Nick turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a low moan of fear.

To his relief, Tanidev withdrew, but remained crouched over him to quietly say, “I just want you to know I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through that, and I’m—” He choked on the words, but swallowed and finished, “I’m sorry Luke made me do that. Can I at least help you get cleaned up?”

Nick didn’t respond. He wasn’t listening. His heart raced like a jackrabbit, and a fresh sheen of clammy sweat had broken out on his skin. The only coherent string of thoughts that crossed his mind was, “He’s going to do it again. He’s going to hurt me. He’s going to kill me.”

Tanidev stared down at him for a long time. Finally, he stood and retreated, abandoning Nick by the bed to resume his post in the hall. The remaining threads of strength in Nick’s body gave out, and he collapsed to the floor again, drawing himself into a tight ball. He could barely move, and soon found that he couldn’t stay awake. It was all too easy to shut his eyes and let reality slip away.

*****

Nick was curled up at the edge of the bed, as far from Luke as he could get, but he could feel Luke’s eyes boring into his back. He flinched with every quiet shuffle of the blankets.

Luke had come home in a shit mood that evening, thanks to a tense dinner with his family. He’d berated Nick for not cleaning up and had all but thrown him into the shower. Now, even though they’d been in bed for over thirty minutes, neither of them was asleep.

At last, Luke spoke, breaking the silence. Nick recoiled from his frosty voice.

“I know you’re awake. What’s on your mind, babe?”

Nick couldn’t tell if it was a serious question. He might have laughed if he wasn’t so miserable.

When he didn’t respond, Luke said in a singsong voice, “I asked you a question.”

“You hurt me,” Nick whispered.

Luke snorted and rolled across the bed. He looped one long, sinuous arm around Nick’s middle and pulled him away from the edge. With his back pressed to Luke’s chest and cool lips mouthing along his neck, Nick felt horribly, humiliatingly powerless. There was nothing he could do but lie there as Luke’s hands crawled over his body.

“Aw, is that what I did? I hurt you?” Luke licked a wet stripe across Nick’s neck, making him shiver.

“I would have done whatever you wanted,” Nick said dully. “I just didn’t want them to watch. That was all I asked for.”

“You’re still worked up about that? Chill your jets, babe. It’s like I said: they don’t give a rat’s ass what I do with my partners. They’ve seen it all. Besides, as long as you’re here, part of their job will be guarding you. It really is important that you can trust them.”

“I trust them to do their job. That doesn’t mean I want to have sex in front of them—or with them.”

“Feeling awfully spicy tonight, aren’t we?” Luke drawled, pushing Nick face-first into the pillows and climbing on top of him. He kissed Nick’s shoulder and reached down to ease his thighs apart.

“Luke, please don’t, it—it still hurts.”

“Shh. Relax, honey. All you have to do is lie there and take it.”

Luke pushed inside him, reopening the earlier wound. Nick’s choked yell was smothered when Luke clapped a hand over his mouth. Luke pinned him down and ground into him, crushing him against the bed. Nick just whimpered and moaned, exhausted in his agony. Tears squeezed from his eyes, trailed down his cheeks and over Luke’s hand.

As he raped Nick for the second time that night, Luke kissed him and whispered in his ear, “You’re so perfect, baby. You’re so beautiful. I love you so much.”

Nick shut his eyes and cried quietly against the pillows. Soon enough, the pain became too much, and he sank into the merciful bliss of unconsciousness.

Luke didn’t notice when Nick passed out beneath him. If he had, he wouldn’t have cared.

Chapter Text

Monroe unlocked the door to the spice shop and held it open so Rosalee could shuffle through, one hand braced under her pregnant belly. She gave Monroe a grateful smile as she ducked under his arm. Suddenly, she stopped in the doorway and frowned down at the floor.

“You okay, honey? Is something wrong?” Monroe asked, panic immediately coloring his voice.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Rosalee assured him. She gestured down to the carpet and said, “We just don’t normally get mail on Sundays.”

“Huh?”

Monroe followed her gaze. Sure enough, a sleek white envelope sat on the floor, having been pushed in through the mail slot. It was unsealed, but the flap was tucked in to keep it shut.

Rosalee took a deep breath and squatted down to grab it, but Monroe quickly snatched it up. “It’s alright, I got it. Don’t strain yourself.”

“Thanks,” Rosalee groaned, straightening with slow, laborious effort. She chuckled and patted her stomach. “The closer I get to pushing these three out, the happier I’ll be. I never realized how much I take bending over for granted.”

Monroe opened the envelope, and curiosity turned to shock when he reached in and pulled out a wad of cash. He exchanged a wide-eyed look with his wife, then fished around behind the stack of bills and pulled out a scribbled note.

“ ‘I don’t care how you use it. I don’t want it’,” he read aloud. He let out a breathy laugh of disbelief and said, “Not sure we’ve gotten an anonymous donation like this before.”

“How much did they give us?”

“Uh. . .”

Monroe thumbed through the bills, mouthing the numbers. His eyebrows rose higher by the second. When he finished counting, he looked up at Rosalee and whispered, “It’s two thousand dollars.”

“Holy shit.”

With a low whistle, Monroe tucked the cash back into the envelope and walked to the front counter. He opened the register and hid the envelope under the cash tray.

“Thank you, good Samaritan. Don’t want to lose track of that. We can take it home tonight when we close up, and I’ll drop it off at the bank tomorrow morning. I’ve been meaning to pick up more deposit tickets anyway.”

“Sounds good.” Rosalee took a seat on the stool behind the counter and opened her laptop. She glanced up at Monroe and asked, “Would you take care of the morning count? I have a few more applications to review.”

“I can absolutely do the morning count.” As Monroe opened the cash drawer, he added, “Those applications are important. Once Larry, Curly, and Moe arrive, we’re going to be needing the extra hands here.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Rosalee said with a smile, opening her email.

Between anxious glances, Monroe pulled out the bills to perform the routine morning count. After finishing the ones and fives and returning them to their respective slots in the tray, he abruptly stopped and turned to Rosalee.

“Can I get you anything? Chips? A blanket? I can help you lay down in the back, if you’d be more comfortable there."

"I’m alright, hon.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need something.” He counted out the tens, then paused again and suggested, “A glass of water? I can get you some water.”

“Monroe, I’m fine.” Rosalee’s tone was gentle but firm.

“Right, sorry. I’ll just, uh. . .”

“The count.”

“Right. Counting cash. That’s what I’m doing. That is the task at hand.”

Monroe’s rambling tapered into silence until the only sounds in the shop were the ticking of several clocks and the shuffle of bills.

Both of them jumped in surprise when someone rapped loudly on the door.

Monroe cursed and dropped the handful of pennies he’d been counting. As he hastily gathered them back up, he yelled, “We’re not open! Come back at 8:00!”

When he was met with silence, he rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Some people.”

He dropped the coins with another jolt when the knocking resumed, louder and more insistent.

“It’s probably Nick. Just go see what he wants. I’ll finish the count,” Rosalee said with a sigh, shutting her laptop and sliding off the stool.

Monroe huffed and walked briskly to the door. He pushed the blinds out of the way, fixed his face into his most menacing glare, and opened his mouth to inform this oh-so-valued customer that the shop would not, in fact, be open for several hours. When he saw who was standing outside, however, his glare disappeared and his face went white.

From behind the counter, Rosalee called, “Is it Nick?”

Monroe dropped the blinds back into place and turned to her with frightened indecision.

“It’s Alexander.”

“What?” Rosalee gasped.

They engaged in a silent debate, exchanging a series of frantic, insistent, and pleading looks. Finally, after an adamant hand flap from Rosalee, Monroe unlocked the door and cracked it open.

“Alexander, what a surprise. Why are you, um. . . here?”

“Council business,” Alexander replied with a polite smile. “I thought it would be most convenient for all of us if I approached you outside of open hours. May I come in?”

Monroe eyed him up and down, then stood aside and reluctantly opened the door. Alexander strode into the shop, and Monroe moved to stand protectively beside Rosalee.

“I didn’t call the Council,” Rosalee stated.

“I’m aware.” Glancing curiously around at the neatly stocked shelves, Alexander declared, “I’d like to speak with the Grimm. I don’t suppose he’s available?”

When Rosalee didn’t immediately answer, Monroe piped up, “I’m not trying to butt into any Council business, but is that. . . you know. . . maybe not the best idea? Considering what happened last time? I mean, I’m not one to judge, but. . .”

He trailed off when Rosalee flashed him a stern look. He shrugged awkwardly and muttered, “Just saying.”

That condescending pleasantness didn’t waver from Alexander’s face, but the ensuing silence was thick with tension.

“The Totliebhaber hunt did not go entirely according to plan,” he said at last, surprising them both. He straightened his tie and maintained, “This is not a hunt, but it is an urgent matter, so I’d like to speak with him as soon as possible.”

“Why?” Rosalee demanded.

“Council business.” After a beat of silence, he added, “I was instructed to share the details with the Grimm, and the Grimm alone. I haven’t been permitted to disclose anything to either of you.”

Monroe shared a long, sobering look with his wife, then fished his phone out of his pocket and said, “Okay. I guess I could give him a call. I can’t promise he’ll be available, though.”

“Make him available,” Alexander pressed. “I really must emphasize the importance of this.”

“Alright, alright,” Monroe relented, raising a hand in surrender. With one more dubious look at Alexander, he found Nick’s number and lifted the phone to his ear.

*****

Nick’s cell phone rang, blaring through the silence of the loft. It rang. . . and rang. . . and rang.

The ringing stopped. Then it returned, seemingly louder this time. Whoever was calling apparently didn’t understand when someone was unavailable.

Nick didn’t open his eyes. He was awake—sort of—but he wasn’t certain he could move. As bad as the pain had been when he’d lain down, it was much worse now. It wasn’t so fresh or abrasive, but it had devolved into a bone-deep soreness that filled every inch of his body. Every joint ached, every limb felt like lead, and his head throbbed with a terrible migraine. He had no idea how he found the will to crawl out from beneath the covers and stumble across the loft to the kitchen, where his phone sat abandoned on the floor.

He fell hard to his knees, and his vision whited out for a few seconds. When he came to, the phone was still ringing, so he braced himself against the counter for stability and answered the call with clumsy fingers.

“Monroe,” he rasped.

“Nick, thank God. I’ve called you three times! Of all the days for you to be away from the phone. . .” Monroe gave an exasperated huff, then hastily explained, “Alexander’s back. He’s here at the shop with me and Rosalee. He wants to talk to you, but he won’t say why, just that it’s urgent Council business. He did say it wasn’t going to be another hunt, though, which at least means there won’t be another, um. . . incident, like what happened last time.”

“Last time?” Nick echoed groggily. He racked his brain to remember what had happened during Alexander’s previous visit. He recalled experimenting with a variety of toys and positions, but couldn’t think of anything he might refer to as an “incident.” Or “Council business,” for that matter.

“The Totliebhaber?” Monroe prompted awkwardly, clearly reluctant to reference any more than that.

Nick mentally smacked himself. Fuck. He’d forgotten that his friends were still in the dark about his and Alexander’s relationship.

“Right, right. You’re at the shop, you said?”

“Yes. He just showed up. We’re about an hour from opening.”

“Okay, I’m coming over. Be there in a few.”

After a short pause, Monroe asked, “Hey, are you alright? You’re sounding a little torpid there, buddy.”

“Yeah, ‘m fine. ‘M fine,” Nick grumbled. “I’m coming over.”

He hung up, then slumped down and stared dumbly at the wall ahead of him. It took a long time for Monroe’s words to fully register in his brain.

A part of him was pissed. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want to discuss what had happened, and he doubted that would change anytime soon. Another part of him was terrified—terrified of what Luke would do, of what Monroe, Rosalee, and the others would think if they found out how intimate he and Alexander were, of seeing that blank, emotionless mask fall over Alexander’s face when he learned Nick had slept with another Grimm.

Stronger than that, though, stronger than the anger or the fear, was the relief. It washed over him like a tremendous wave, almost knocking him to the floor.

Alexander hadn’t left. He’d decided to involve Monroe and Rosalee, which was arguably worse, but he hadn’t left like Nick thought he had. He was staying. He was working to get back to Nick. He’d chosen a rather roundabout way to do it, but the effort was there.

The only thing Nick wanted was for Alexander to hold him and tell him everything would be okay. He wanted to forget about Luke entirely, just for a short while, and Alexander was the only person who could help him do that.

On the other hand, Luke was the very subject Alexander wanted to talk about.

Mixed feelings aside, the bottom line was that Monroe and Rosalee were now involved, whether they knew it or not, and Nick couldn’t just leave them with Alexander. So he dragged himself to his feet, changed as quickly as he could physically manage, and was soon on the road, heading for the spice shop.

*****

Alexander snapped to attention at the doorbell’s merry chime. He was careful not to show any outward emotion, but his heart skipped a beat when Nick walked into the shop.

He looked exhausted. Alexander had seen him stumble home after long days of work, more inclined to shower and go straight to bed than to fool around, but this was different. He looked utterly, wretchedly exhausted, as if the mere act of living was crushing him. He quietly greeted Monroe and Rosalee, then faced Alexander.

“Alexander,” he said curtly.

It was nothing like his normal tone. Alexander had to consciously remind himself that they needed to keep up appearances of detachment for Nick’s friends. Although he wanted nothing more than to run to his Grimm, he offered a cordial nod and returned the greeting.

“Burkhardt. All is well, I trust?”

“Living the dream,” Nick said dryly.

“I’m sure. Now, as to why I’m here. . . if we could speak alone?” He threw a pointed look at Nick’s friends, who hovered behind the counter.

“Uh. . .” Monroe began, lifting a hesitant hand, eyes darting between them. He was clearly torn between concern for Nick’s welfare and fear of the Council’s retribution.

“It’s fine,” Nick whispered to him. He offered his friends a tight smile, then turned back to Alexander and nodded at the door. “We can talk outside. Let’s get this over with.”

Alexander knew it was an act—he hoped it was, at least—but a twinge of hurt nipped his heart upon hearing those last few words. Nonetheless, after customarily thanking Monroe and Rosalee for their loyalty, he followed Nick outside. He took note of how stiffly Nick moved, and of the limp he was trying to conceal. Fresh anger edged into his concern—anger and loathing for whoever had dared to lay a hand on his lover.

Nick led him to a back alley behind the shop, out of view of the street. There, Nick finally rounded to face him. They stood in silence for a few moments; Alexander was the first to speak.

“I’d like to apologize.”

“What for?”

“When I questioned you of your whereabouts, I should not have been so blunt. I should not have raised my voice, nor pushed so strongly for your account. And, in hindsight, I should not have left if I truly thought something was wrong, which I still do.”

He cautiously moved forward and reached out. When Nick didn’t recoil, Alexander took his hands, lacing their fingers together. He moved ever closer, shortening the space between them, and said, “I’m sorry, Nick.”

Nick swallowed and turned his face away.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, too,” he responded. “I’m sorry I yelled at you and kicked you out. I just. . . I was—”

“I know.”

Alexander wrapped his arms around Nick, pulling him into a tight embrace. Nick pressed his face into the crook of his neck and sniffled softly.

Alexander wasn’t sure this was the most appropriate time to bring it up, but there was business that needed tending to, so he gently probed, “I don’t want to push you, but when you’re ready to talk about what happened, I’m here.”

Nick was quiet for so long that Alexander became convinced the story would simply not be brought to light. Then Nick spoke, his voice painfully hoarse.

“You remember how I said I knew the Endezeichen Grimm?”

Alexander tensed. His inner Pflichttreue roiled at the mere mention.

“Luke.”

“Yeah. Well, he’s not really an Endezeichen, he was just using the symbol for attention, but his full name is Luke Verosik. I was living in Brooklyn when I first got into law enforcement, and that’s where I met him. It was fifteen years ago, long before I was a Grimm. He comes from a very old, very powerful family, and they—”

Alexander abruptly pulled away.

“You didn’t tell me he was a Verosik.”

“You know about them, too?” Nick asked with a frown.

“One of my cousins was involved in the investigation, so I’ve heard stories. But I thought everyone on that case was either Wesen or Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennan. If you weren’t a Grimm at the time, why did they pull you in?”

“It was sort of an accident. I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the Verosiks. I was undercover somewhere else, and I met Luke by chance.”

Nick slipped out of Alexander’s arms and took a slow turn about the alley, looking anywhere but at him. He took a deep breath and finished, “He showed. . . interest in me. So I talked to my captain about it, and he encouraged me to take the opportunity that was presented.”

“You posed as Luke’s paramour to infiltrate the family.”

“Yup. He, uh. . . wasn’t the easiest person to be with.”

“And now he’s come to Portland for you.”

Nick lifted his arms in a helpless shrug.

“Basically.”

“And last night. . .” Alexander trailed off when pain lanced across Nick’s face.

“He called me the day we found those first two kills, the ones in the alley. I blew him off at first, but then he killed that family, so I agreed to meet up with him in private. He told me that if I didn’t show, or if I tried to stage an ambush, he would kill Monroe and Rosalee. He knows about Adalind and Kelly, too. He didn’t explicitly threaten them, but he made it clear that they’re on the list.”

Alexander stood frozen in place, staring at him.

Nick drew a shaky breath, and his voice cracked as he went on, “I don’t think he knows about you. I used the emergency car so he wouldn’t be able to follow me home, but my address is in the system, so he probably knows where I live. He might have seen you leave last night.”

A lone tear leaked from Nick’s eye. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know what to do. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me. I just. . . God, I shouldn’t even be telling you all this, but I couldn’t just—”

Alexander rushed forward and crushed him in a tight hug. Nick clung to him, and pain thrashed Alexander’s heart when his lovely Grimm shuddered with quiet tears. Alexander pulled away and cupped Nick’s face in his hands.

“I am going to kill him,” he vowed. “I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care what I have to do.”

“Alexander, he’s a Grimm.”

“I don’t care. I will kill him for what he’s done. We will kill him. But we can’t do it alone.” He leaned forward, letting their foreheads bump together, and said, “I understand your fears, but we will need your friends’ help if we’re going to stop him. I’ll contact De Groot and see what resources the Council can accrue.”

Nick’s lip trembled, and another sob escaped him. Never before had Alexander seen him break down like this. He hugged him tighter, pressed a feverish kiss to his mouth, and murmured, “I am here for you, Nick. Now and always.”

*****

Despite his lingering aches and pains, Nick strode into the precinct with renewed determination. Hank raised an eyebrow at his inexplicable energy as Nick approached their desks.

“You’re in early. How are—” Hank stopped midsentence, and his eyes widened.

“Take it easy. He’s with me,” Nick stated, following Hank’s gaze.

Alexander, trailing close behind him, smiled and politely said, “Detective Griffin. You’re looking well.”

At that very moment, Wu came walking briskly over to their desks, flipping through a stack of papers. He came to a halt when he saw Alexander.

“Uh, who—”

“Office, now,” Nick said sharply. “We need to talk to Renard. I’ll explain everything.”

Hank and Wu shared a dubious look, but they had no time to ask questions, as Nick was already heading to Renard’s office with Alexander in tow.

Renard glanced up from his laptop when Nick came in, and surprise morphed into apprehension when he saw Alexander. Hank and Wu took up the rear, shutting the door behind them.

“I haven’t contacted the Wesen Council,” Renard said coolly, his tone demanding an explanation.

“Is he from the Wesen Council?” Wu asked, looking Alexander up and down.

“He’s one of their agents. His name is Alexander. He’s come to Portland a few times,” Nick hastily explained. He turned to his captain and said, “We have more information about Luke, and we might have a plan to pin him down.”

“What’s the Council’s stake in this?” Renard demanded.

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “The same as yours, I would imagine. An Endezeichen Grimm in this day and age poses a danger for everyone.”

Renard stared at him long and hard, grinding his jaw. Finally, he addressed Nick, having apparently accepted Alexander’s presence.

“Well, I’m glad you came to me first, because I was close to bringing it up myself. You’ve been pretty damn erratic these last few days—don’t think I haven’t noticed. You were plenty upfront about the fact that you have a personal connection to Luke, but you haven’t told us what that connection is, or why it matters now. I think it’s about time you started sharing with the class. Just how well did you know him in Brooklyn?”

Hank and Wu watched Nick expectantly. He wanted to shrink under the weight of their eyes, but took comfort in Alexander’s steadfast presence. He’d already resolved to tell them what he knew. He couldn’t back down now.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he promised, crossing his arms, “but then we need to put our heads together and figure out how we’re going to take him down.”

“We’re with you, Nick. You know that,” Hank stated firmly. Wu and Renard voiced their respective agreements, and Nick locked eyes with Alexander in a moment of sudden clarity.

No matter what happened, he had to hold his ground. It wouldn’t be enough to arrest Luke or drive him out of Portland; he needed to be stopped for good. It had to end here, once and for all, no matter the cost. For better or worse, only one Grimm could walk away from this fight.

Without further ado, Nick took a deep breath and began his story.

Chapter Text

Nick sat alone in his apartment, curled up on the sofa with a blanket wrapped around himself. He stared blankly across the living room, his bloodshot eyes shadowed by dark rings of exhaustion. His hair was damp from a recent shower, and the hood of an old ACDC sweatshirt was pulled over his head.

He drew in a deep breath, then let it out with careful slowness.

As long as he kept his mind empty, he would be fine. As long as he didn’t think about any one thing in particular—as long as he didn’t think about It—he would be fine.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when his cell phone chimed on the end table beside the couch, starkly loud in his quiet apartment. He stared at the phone with wide eyes, pulled the blanket tighter around his trembling body.

“It’s not him. I talk to other people besides him. It won’t be him,” he whispered to himself. He gathered the courage to reach for the phone with one trembling hand, and wilted in relief when he saw that it was a text from Elouise.

When will you be able to come over again?

Nick stared at the words. His fingertips hovered over the keypad, but he didn’t type anything.

He hadn’t told anyone yet. He didn’t want Elouise to know. He didn’t want Hackle or Firman to know. He didn’t want anyone to know what Luke had done—what he’d let Luke do.

He could still feel Luke’s hands on him. He could hear Luke’s voice hissing in his ear. He could feel Luke inside him.

What would his bosses think if they knew about all the things he’d let Luke do with his body? It didn’t help that he had no one but himself to blame for the whole mess. He was the one who’d reached out to Luke to initiate a second date—to initiate a relationship. He knew his informant work was important, but deep down, a part of him wished he hadn’t told anyone when he’d first met Luke. He could have just hooked up with him once and moved on, but he just had to try and be a hero.

Maybe he would have felt better about it if he wasn’t faking affection to exploit someone’s trust. Maybe he would have felt better about it if this wasn’t the first substantial romantic relationship he’d had with a man.

He’d slept with men before, but had never tried going long-term with them. He’d only ever dated women. As a result, in just two weeks, he’d experienced more firsts with Luke than anyone else. It shouldn’t be a shock, he supposed, given how far out of his league Luke was, but there were so many firsts he wished he could have had with someone else—as well as a few firsts he’d have rather skipped altogether. His most recent first was definitely one of the latter.

Rape. That short, ugly word sat at the forefront of his mind like a rotted stump in the middle of a meadow. It wasn’t as if he’d never heard the word before, but he’d never imagined he might associate it with himself.

He felt sick. He felt used. He felt dirty.

No one could know what he’d let Luke do to him.

Something came up. Will keep you posted.

Nick sighed and leaned back against the couch. Elouise wouldn’t question his response, understanding the inherent danger, so he wouldn’t be expected to offer an explanation. He wasn’t sure he could face her right now. He had no idea how he was supposed to look her—or anyone—in the eye again.

K. Let me know when it’s a good time.

Nick replied with a thumbs-up emoji, but nothing more. He put his phone back on the end table and shut his eyes. He was so tired. He just wanted to curl up and go to sleep.

His phone suddenly chimed again. Assuming it was Elouise, he opened the message. His heart stopped when he saw that this one was from Luke.

It’s been 2 days. Where tf are you?

Nick dropped his phone, his hands shaking violently and his heart pounding. He tugged the drawstring of his hoodie tight and drew himself into a shivering ball.

His phone started to ring. He glanced at the screen, and a low whine of fear crawled up his throat. He didn’t answer. He didn’t so much as lift a hand. He just let it ring until it went to voicemail.

Silence—then the phone rang a second time. Once again, Nick let it go unanswered.

More silence—then a notification, another text.

PICK UP THE DAMN PHONE

The ringing started up a third time. Nick lay down on his side, tucking himself into the far corner of the couch and huddling under the blanket. A single tear rolled over the tip of his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the blanket over his head to drown out the incessant ringing.

He didn’t want to talk to Luke. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

*****

Nick wasn’t sure how long he lay there, curled up under the blanket, but Luke eventually stopped calling, and he was finally allowed some peace.

He was dozing in and out of sleep when, out of the blue, he was startled awake by a sharp rapping on his apartment door. He bolted upright, staring across the living room in terror, his heart racing.

There was no way—no way in hell. Surely Luke wasn’t invested enough to track him home. Nick waited in silence, hoping beyond hope that whoever was at the door would assume the unit was empty. He had no such luck, and the knocking persisted.

If it was Luke, then he didn’t have a choice. Luke would have no qualms about breaking down the door if his patience ran out before it opened. Nick’s only viable option was to see who it was and hope for the best.

He slid off the couch, wincing as he braced his weight on unsteady legs, and limped across the living room. He made sure the chain bolt was latched before he cracked the door open. To his horror, Renbach stood in the hallway outside, his brutish face twisted in a grimace of irritation.

“What do you want?” Nick demanded.

“Open the door,” Renbach snapped, ignoring the question.

“Where’s Luke?”

“Open the fucking door, Burkhardt.”

Nick recoiled from his sharp tone. As inclined as he was to slam the door on Renbach’s face, he unbolted the chain. Renbach immediately shouldered the door open, grabbed Nick’s arm, and dragged him out into the hall. Nick dug his heels into the grubby carpet and thrashed away, ripping his arm free.

“What the hell?” he shouted, stumbling away and gaping up at Renbach.

“Luke wants you back at his place. I’ve been sent to collect. Come on.” Renbach reached for him again, but Nick ducked away and flattened himself against his apartment door.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Nick said bitterly. “I don’t want to see Luke.”

“This isn’t a request.” Renbach crossed his arms and added with a sneer, “His orders were to retrieve you by any means necessary. As long as you’re alive and intact, he doesn’t care what that entails. You’re really only good for one thing, after all.”

Nick hunched away, shoulders curling inward. Although he knew Renbach wouldn’t listen, he pleaded, “I just need time to rest. I’m still—”

“You’ve had two days. You’re fine.”

When Nick didn’t move or respond, a vile smirk crossed Renbach’s face, and he pointedly raked his eyes up and down Nick’s body. He sidled closer, until he had Nick cornered against the door, and said in a low, nasty voice, “Before you commit to doing this the hard way, maybe I should clarify what ‘any means necessary’ would involve. If you try to hole up in your apartment, I’ll break down the door, fuck you until you can’t walk, and carry you out of here naked.”

He leaned down, and his breath tickled Nick’s ear as he hissed, “I liked fucking your face the other night. I’d love an excuse to crack your tight little ass open. Luke would probably appreciate having the prep out of the way. Is that what you’d prefer?”

“N-No, I’ll—I’ll go,” Nick whispered.

Renbach looked only slightly disappointed. He stepped away, seized Nick’s arm, and pulled him down the hall towards the elevator.

“Hurry it up, then. Luke isn’t in a very patient mood today.”

*****

When they arrived at the manor, Nick wasn’t brought to Luke’s suite, like he’d expected. He was instead taken to a secluded stairwell, where Renbach led him down a long spiral staircase. The air cooled as they descended, and Nick’s dread deepened.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked in a small voice.

“He’s conducting business right now, but he wants to talk to you. He’ll probably send you back up to wait in his room afterwards.”

The stairs ended at a small landing, where a single door awaited. Renbach pushed it open with a strained grunt, and Nick winced at the ensuing creak. Beyond was a short hallway, lined on either side with heavily bolted doors—six on each side, twelve in total. The monotonous gray walls and buzzing fluorescent lights gave the place a cold, sterile feel that made Nick shiver. He heard groans and whimpers behind several doors as Renbach led him down the hall.

They stopped at one of the final doors, where the hallway came to a dead end. Renbach pounded a heavy fist above a small rectangular slot. It slid open, revealing a tiny window, and another guard, Merryn, peered out at him.

“You’ve got him?”

“He’s right here. Open up.”

Merryn glanced behind Renbach as if to confirm Nick was there, then grunted in acknowledgement. He shut the window, and the door swung open.

Inside was a bleak prison cell, a small cube no more than eight feet on all sides. Accompanying Merryn was Tanidev, and between them stood Luke, facing a raised table. Nick sucked in a breath at the sight of a mangled body strapped down to the metal surface.

“Glad you could make it, babe,” Luke hummed. He wielded a long, curved knife, and Nick gulped nervously as he watched Luke wipe it clean with a rag.

“Should I wait upstairs?” Nick suggested hesitantly.

“I just want to ask you a few questions first.”

The person on the table let out a low, tortured moan. She weakly turned her head, and Nick recognized her as the woman he’d seen two weeks prior, the alleged FBI agent. Her face was gaunt and bloody, and Nick was unable to look away as her glassy eyes locked onto him. She rasped a wordless plea for help, but Luke shoved a leather bit into her mouth, effectively gagging her.

At last, Luke turned around to face Nick. He studied him thoughtfully as he moved to a small cart and began poking through a set of vicious-looking tools. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, his hair was pinned atop his head in a neat bun, and he wore a long butcher’s apron. He looked disturbingly comfortable in such a gruesome setting.

“You’re probably wondering who she is,” Luke said, nodding at the prisoner. When Nick didn’t answer, he prompted, “You remember that family meeting I dragged you to?”

“I remember.”

“She was the reason for it. Nick, meet special agent Amber Fields. She worked for my brother, Tony. They started having an affair, and the feds started miraculously gaining new leads.”

“I know. You told me.”

“Did I tell you how Tony caught her?”

Nick shook his head. He didn’t like where this was going.

Luke leaned back against the table and crossed his ankles. Wiping his hands clean with a rag, he explained, “Tony had his suspicions of her pretty early on, but he didn’t realize how likely a suspect she was until he came home one day to find his personal computer stolen, along with a hard drive full of account statements. Amber hadn’t been scheduled to work that day, but she was the only one who didn’t show up when he assembled his staff.

“He tried calling her, but she didn’t answer, so he sent a few. . . specialists to track her down. When they found her, they found the hard drive, the computer, and a metric shit-ton of other stolen intel. Tony was pissed, but our old man didn’t trust him to effectively torture the woman he’d been sleeping with, so he handed her over to me.”

“That meeting was two weeks ago,” Nick whispered.

“Ugh, I know. I didn’t expect it to take this long. She’s a tough nut to crack. I might have to call it a lost cause and put her out of her misery. If she doesn’t start talking by the end of this week, she’s not going to talk at all.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Nick blurted. “This is horrible, Luke. What do you expect me to—”

“On the subject of talking,” Luke interrupted, ignoring Nick’s protests, “is your phone working?”

Nick knit his brow in fearful confusion.

“Of course it’s working.”

“Did you lose it somewhere?”

“What? No. What does that have to do with anything?”

Luke shrugged and replied with unsettling nonchalance, “Nothing, probably. I’m just trying to figure out why you haven’t been answering my calls.”

Nick’s stomach dropped, and his mouth went dry.

“I-I was just. . . I was—”

Luke’s palm cracked across his face with a loud slap. The blow sent him staggering, but he was given no time to recover as Luke grabbed his shirt and yanked him closer.

“When I call, you pick up the goddamn phone,” Luke hissed. He narrowed his eyes and added, “Ignoring Tony’s messages was how Amber flagged herself. It’s not a crime to be slow on the draw once in a while, but do yourself a favor and be a bit more diligent from now on. Can you do that, honey?”

Nick swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. Standing this close to Luke, the reek of blood was overpowering. He would say or do whatever he needed to get out of that cell.

Luke smiled sweetly and released him. Nick rocketed backwards so fast that he almost smacked into Renbach.

“Can I go now?” he pleaded.

“Sure, babe. Just wanted to make a point. Renbach, take him to my room. I’ll be up in a few. And Nick. . .”

Nick was just turning to follow Renbach out of the cell, but he stiffened when Luke pinched his ass and murmured in his ear, “Put on something cute. Slutty is a good look on you.”

Nick didn’t answer. He didn’t dare look back. His face was hot, and his hands shook. He didn’t resist as Renbach led him out of the hall and back up the stairs.

*****

Now that Nick was more familiar with Luke’s wardrobe, he had an easier time fishing through the closet for something to wear. He ended up coopting a lacy G-string and one of Luke’s shirts, since Luke seemed to like when Nick borrowed his clothes.

Once he’d dressed, he risked a few minutes poking through the files in Luke’s desk, making mental notes of all the important-looking documents he found. Now he lay in bed, tucked under the covers, trying not to think too hard about what had happened in that very same bed two days prior.

He hated how exposed he was in his current scanty getup. Bundling himself in blankets helped, but he could feel phantom hands crawling over every inch of bare skin. He regretted borrowing Luke’s shirt, because he could smell Luke in the fabric. It didn’t help that he was still sore from head to toe, and in addition to the myriad of bruises, his rectum hadn’t had enough time to heal. He’d been shitting blood for the last two days, and letting Luke fuck him so soon after the initial injury would put him right back at square one.

Sex with Luke was the very last thing Nick wanted to think about, but whenever he tried to block those thoughts off, he was left with the memory of Amber Fields’s battered face. He hoped to God he wouldn’t end up like her, imprisoned and tortured for weeks.

Despite his best efforts to steel himself for what was to come, his stomach plummeted with dread when the bedroom door opened and Luke walked in.

“Made yourself at home, I see,” Luke remarked. He unpinned his hair, and it cascaded down his back in a silky blond wave. His hands were still speckled with blood, as were his clothes in spite of the apron he’d worn.

Nick sat up as he approached, and he couldn’t help flinching when Luke whisked the blankets away. Luke eyed him up and down with a wolf whistle and tugged him to the edge of the bed. He pulled Nick’s legs around his waist and growled, “God, I missed this,” before pressing a hard, hungry kiss to his mouth.

Nick felt like he was suffocating as his lips were forced apart and Luke’s tongue drove into his mouth. Pale hands wandered over his thighs and plucked at the straps of his lingerie. He felt sick as Luke ground his pelvis against him. At last, he decided to take the risk of setting a [temporary] boundary.

He broke away, and when Luke tried to kiss him again, he lifted one hand to block his lips. Luke pouted, but before he could voice his complaints, Nick spoke up.

“I’m not saying no. I just. . . can we just do oral tonight?”

“Two days feels like fucking forever,” Luke whined. He tugged Nick closer and said, “All I’ve been able to think about is how goddamn good you feel.”

“Luke, just wait,” Nick said firmly, pushing him away.

That was enough to change the mood. Luke’s eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“I thought I made it clear what I expect from you.”

“You did. Crystal clear,” Nick said hastily. “I mean it, I’m not saying no. I’m okay with being here tonight, but—”

“But what?”

Nick worked up the courage to remind him, “You didn’t prep me last time.”

“Renbach prepped you.”

“Not very well.” Nick shuddered at the memory of Renbach’s fingers inside him. “It still hurts, Luke. Can we just stick to mouth and hands until I’ve had time to recover?”

Luke said nothing. He stared hard at Nick, who shrank under the weight of his glare. Realizing that he needed to sweeten the deal, Nick opened Luke’s fly and freed his cock. He gave it a few hopeful strokes, then undid the first few buttons of Luke’s shirt and kissed his collarbone.

Luke was still tense, but he didn’t move to stop him, so Nick gently pressed, “I can make this good. Please, Luke? Just for a little while? I promise, as soon as I’m feeling better, we can do whatever you want. Please?”

Luke sighed, but a weary fondness crept into his expression. Finally, he pecked a kiss to the tip of Nick’s nose and guided his hand in a rhythm of faster strokes.

“Alright, babe. We can wait a while,” he conceded. He raised a sharp eyebrow and added, “But let me know when you’ve recovered. When that day comes, prep in advance, because I’m gonna fuck you stupid. Sound fair?”

“Sounds fair,” Nick agreed, nibbling his lip. He tugged Luke down for a kiss, tangling his fingers into his soft hair.

He prayed his smile looked natural, because it was taking every ounce of bodily control he had not to vomit into Luke’s mouth.

He wasn’t sure he could keep this up much longer.

Chapter Text

Nick, Renard, and Alexander stood side by side, waiting in tense silence. The only sounds were the distant drip of water and the hum of yellowed lights overhead.

Nick checked his watch. Ten minutes since he’d called Luke.

Sean was the one who’d suggested the Willamette Paper Mill, since he’d had a similarly discrete meeting there once before with his cousin Kenneth. The mention brought back ugly memories for both him and Nick, but it was the perfect spot for an ambush.

They all stiffened when a rusty door squealed open, then slammed shut with a clang. Next came the clacking of sauntering, high-heeled footsteps and the faint jingle of boot buckles. Each step jabbed Nick’s heart with a fresh pulse of dread until it was beating like a drum. He held fast, however, taking comfort in the fact that he wasn’t alone this time.

Luke entered the room, stepping out of the shadows and studying the three of them with mild amusement. He was as impossibly beautiful as ever, and his hair, pulled back in a tight braid, shone like the softest silk. His nails were freshly manicured, and the collar of a knit turtleneck peeked out over the lapels of his fitted black coat. He was naturally tall, but today wore a pair of heeled knee-high boots, black and lined with ladders of silver buckles, which brought him close to seven feet.

He scrutinized the wide, dank room and remarked, “Wow. This might be the most obvious trap I’ve ever walked into. I really thought you were smarter than this, Nick.”

“Who sent you?” Renard demanded, getting straight to business.

“What makes you think someone sent me?”

“Are you working for Viktor?”

Luke’s burst of laughter took them all by surprise. He studied Renard, cocked his head with a sardonic sneer.

“You must be the half-breed. No, I’m not working for your shitstain of a cousin. What makes you think I’d waste my time with him?”

“He is the king now.”

“Sure, he’s a king. He’s also a limp-dick goon who couldn’t kidnap one fucking baby.”

“Another one of the seven families, then?” Alexander probed.

Luke studied Alexander, then raised an eyebrow at Nick and said, “You’ve dropped your standards, babe. Pflichttreue? Really?”

“Answer the damn question,” Renard snapped, drawing his attention. “Which of the families sent you?”

“None of them.”

Renard blinked in surprise, but before he could speak, Luke matter-of-factly said, “With your gene pool, you’re always gonna have one foot in the old world, Sean. We might have answered to Royals once, but times change. Royals ain’t what they used to be, and neither are we. We look after our own now.”

“Why are you here, then, if no one sent you?” Nick interjected. “Why now?”

Those cold blue eyes turned on him, and every muscle in his body froze up. Had Luke attacked him then, Nick doubted he could have moved to defend himself. He was a deer in headlights.

“Like I said, babe. We look to our own now. As long as Wesen have existed, so have Decapitare. The Grimms are just one bloodline, one of dozens. So are the Verosiks.” Luke took a menacing step forward and said, “You know, fifteen years ago, you were really only good for one thing. But now. . .”

“That’s enough,” Sean interrupted. He moved forward, placing himself between Nick and Luke. “This can go one of two ways. You can come downtown with us now, and no one needs to get hurt, or we can bring you in the hard way. Your choice, Verosik.”

“My choice, hm?”

Luke hummed thoughtfully, like he was pretending to consider the offer, then proposed with perfect nonchalance, “How about this, Sean: I kill you all and bring Nick back home where he belongs. How does that sound?”

He gave a hard blink of his eyes, and blue irises suddenly morphed into lightless black pits.

Sean and Alexander recoiled, and Nick watched in shock as they were both forced into a synchronous woge, putting their respective Wesen skins on full display. Nick whipped back around to gape at Luke.

Luke chuckled and blinked his eyes back to normal. “I don’t suppose Aunt Marie ever taught you that little party trick. You’ve still got a lot to learn, babe. There are advantages to being raised knowing what you are.”

“I’m not going back to New York,” Nick stated resolutely. “I am never going back.”

“Oh, you’re going back. Maybe you don’t like it now, but you’ll come around.”

Luke drew ever closer, and Nick fell back a step before he could stop himself. Luke clicked his tongue and said, “You’ve forgotten the most important thing I taught you. You don’t get to say no to me. You just need. . . reminding.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Alexander growled, still fully woged.

“So have I,” Renard concurred. Without waiting another moment, he threw up a hand and shouted, “Now!”

All at once, dozens of Wesen leapt from the shadows. They burst out from within hidden alcoves, underneath equipment, and behind ajar doors. Some were contracted by the Council, others were fulfilling favors to Renard. They were on Luke in seconds, tackling him from all sides, grabbing his arms and driving him to his knees. One threaded a rag through his teeth and pulled it taut, gagging him, while another grabbed him in a chokehold.

Renard raised his voice over the ruckus to order, “We need him alive! Pin him down!”

Nick spotted the exact moment the plan collapsed.

Luke stamped his right heel on the concrete floor, and a slim blade projected from the toe of his boot with a soft click. He was strong enough to yank one arm loose, and that was all the leverage he needed to twist around and throw a deadly kick into the belly of the Wesen holding his other arm. He ripped the blade free and slammed his heel onto the toe of the Wesen holding his neck. He spun around fast as lightning, unsheathed a knife from within his coat, and stabbed a third Wesen in the throat. It was almost too fast to follow; he moved like water and struck like a snake, dodging, twisting, and slashing, killing the attacking Wesen one by one.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Nick, Alexander, and Renard rushed forward to help, but before they could get close, Luke put two fingers in his mouth and gave a piercing whistle.

Windows crashed, doors burst open, and dozens of men with guns and body armor joined the fray. Trapped between Luke and the ambush of guards, the Wesen had nowhere to run. They could do nothing but scream as they were systematically slaughtered.

Nick ripped his gun from his holster and rushed forward, but Renard seized him by the collar of his jacket and yanked him back. He broke into a run, dragging Nick along with him.

“Sean, we can’t just—”

“If we stay here, we’ll join them!”

“But—”

“It’s too late, Nick! Move!”

Nick had no choice but to run with him and Alexander as they navigated the twisting halls of the mill. They ran into several more of Luke’s hired guns, but killed them and moved on without skipping a beat. They finally made it outside, where Hank and Wu, having been stationed as backup, were approaching the building with their own guns at the ready.

“We heard screaming. What the hell happened?” Hank asked.

“Get in the cars, now!” Renard barked.

Hank and Wu didn’t argue. They each sprinted back to their respective vehicles, Renard joining Wu while Nick and Alexander piled in with Hank.

Hank looked sharply over at Nick and demanded, “What happened in there? Where’s Luke?”

“Just drive!” Nick shouted.

Wu was already peeling rubber out of the parking lot, and Hank was quick to follow. It wasn’t until they were on the road, panting heavy in the silence, that he repeated his question.

“Nick, what happened in there?”

Nick was quiet for a long time. He glanced over his shoulder at Alexander, who sat in the backseat. Their eyes locked. A thread of mutual fear was strung between them—not just because of the failed ambush, but for one remark Luke had made.

“You’ve dropped your standards, babe. Pflichttreue? Really?”

Luke knew about them. How long he’d known, Nick wasn’t sure, but he was certainly aware of why Alexander was really in Portland.

In answer to Hank’s question, Nick soberly said, “We lost.”

*****

“There’s nothing here,” Hank snapped, flipping through Luke’s file for the umpteenth time. “Just some surveillance pics, possible ties to other ties to the mafia, ID and birth records. Even those are questionable, though. I don’t think ‘Luke’ is even his real name.”

Nick rubbed his temples and sighed, “This is what they sent me. This is everything they’ve gathered in the last fifteen years. There was a lot more when I was there, but none of it’s in the system anymore. The Verosiks made sure of that.”

He leafed through the feeble pile of documents and muttered, “Let’s just see what we can pull from this. I doubt we can put together a concrete profile, but there might be something Grimm-related that the officers in Brooklyn couldn’t see.”

Wu approached their desks with a set of coffees. Nick accepted one with a quiet thank-you.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Hank murmured as he studied Luke’s photo.

“What?”

“Realizing that someone you’ve known for years is part of the Wesen world? I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”

“Tell me about it. What are the odds that some evil douchebag I dated fifteen years ago is a Grimm?” Nick snorted.

After dropping Alexander off at the loft, Nick had gone straight back to the precinct. There, he, Hank, Wu, and Renard had agreed to pull an all-nighter. The four of them were now running solely on caffeine and determination. They had plenty to do, since Nick’s old precinct in Brooklyn had finally sent over the files they had on Luke, but it didn’t help their case much. Nick and Hank had been pouring over the scant accumulation of documents for hours, taking turns reading, re-reading, and re-reading again, but they’d come up with nothing thus far, even after recruiting Wu’s sharp eye.

Luke had already confirmed to Nick that he was behind the decapitations and would happily commit more. All they needed now was physical proof, but they had nothing. A single frame from a security camera wouldn’t even be considered by a judge. At this point, Nick wasn’t even frustrated with their lack of progress. He was just tired.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fished it out with a sigh. He didn’t recognize the number, but answered anyway.

“Detective Burkhardt.”

“I can’t believe you left without saying goodbye.”

Nick straightened in his chair. He caught Hank’s gaze and put the phone on speaker.

“Luke,” he stated coolly.

Hank’s eyes widened, and he leaned in to hear the conversation as Nick demanded, “What do you want?”

“Same thing I’ve wanted since I rolled into town, babe. Anyway, I’m just calling to let you know I’m sending another gift your way. Feel free to bring your friends along. I’m sure they’ll want to see it.”

“Where?” Nick grabbed a pen and a loose sheet of paper as Luke rattled off an address with unbridled glee. Nick scribbled it down as fast as he could.

Before Nick could say anything more, Luke gloated, “Thanks for all those Wesen, by the way. I don’t find many opportunities to get my hands dirty anymore. Haven’t had a good scrap in years.”

He hung up, having gotten the last word in as per usual, and Nick stuffed his phone into his pocket with a growl of frustration.

“What are the odds he’ll be there?” Hank asked without any real enthusiasm.

“Low, but we don’t have a choice. Come on.”

They alerted Wu and Renard, and the four of them were soon speeding out of the precinct with a fleet of cruisers.

*****

Luke’s “gift” wasn’t hard to find. He’d apparently given out a few other tips, too, because the press was already there, broadcasting the horrific scene.

The coalition of Wesen contracted by Renard and Alexander lined both sides of the street like a march of flagpoles. They were impaled on tall wooden pikes, and their bodies, stripped of clothing to showcase their wounds, were swarmed with blankets of flies. There were over a dozen of them, all set up to rot in the sun. Painted in burning oil across the span of the street was, predictably, a massive Sterbestunde G. A helicopter rumbled through the air overhead, ensuring that any Wesen watching the local news would know what had happened.

Officers were working to block off the scene and shoo away the reporters, but Nick knew it was too late. The gruesome display would be public before the day was out.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say our plan failed. Spectacularly,” Wu commented.

“Where’s Alexander? We need to come up with a new plan, and fast,” Renard said.

“He went back to my—” Nick almost let slip that Alexander was staying with him, but quickly corrected himself, “He went back to his hotel to discuss other options with De Groot. He hasn’t gotten back to me yet.”

“Let me know as soon as you hear from him, because this is just going to keep getting worse.”

“Only if Luke thinks he hasn’t made his point yet,” Nick muttered.

He stared up at one of the impaled bodies, a young woman who he vaguely recalled woging into a Lowen. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. As Nick stared up into her glassy eyes and chalky face, he wondered if he could have saved her. He wondered if he could have saved all of them.

There was no debate, he quickly realized. They’d all died because of him, plain and simple. Maybe Luke had ulterior motives for coming to Portland, but Nick was the reason he’d started killing in the first place.

Two deaths to get his attention; it could have stopped there. Four more deaths to make a point, because Nick had refused to see him. It should have stopped there. Now this, a brutal massacre, all for the sake of proving that fighting him was useless. None of these Wesen should have had to die. Their blood was as much on Nick’s hands as Luke’s.

“Nick, you still with us?”

Nick glanced at Hank, who was watching him with careful concern. He nudged Nick with an elbow and said, “He’s trying to get under your skin, man.”

“It’s working.”

“Hey, we can do this. We’ve fried bigger fish.”

“I know.”

Luke Verosik was not Zerstörer, that much was true, but that didn’t make this case any less disheartening.

As if sensing Nick’s turmoil, Renard walked up to stand beside him. He studied the same Lowen woman and heaved a weary sigh.

“I hope you’ve still got some caffeine in your system,” he said stiffly, clapping Nick on the shoulder. “We’ve got a lot of mess to clean up.”

*****

“I understand that this situation would not typically fall under the Council’s domain, but—”

“I’m sorry, Alexander, there’s nothing I can do. At the very most, I could contract Reapers, but it would have to be with the utmost discretion, and they might not make it to Portland before Verosik kills again. There isn’t even a guarantee that they would be able to stop him.”

“We can’t bring Reapers into this,” Alexander protested. “They never leave empty-handed. If they’re unable to track Luke down, they’ll place the blame on Nick and pursue him instead. They already have a grudge against him.”

“Then I can do nothing for you, and neither can the Council. You know better than to assume they would even bring this matter to debate. We enforce Wesen law; Endezeichen Grimms are too far beyond our jurisdiction.”

De Groot didn’t sound particularly pleased with his own ruling, but he tried to lighten the mood by suggesting, “Perhaps let Burkhardt handle this one, ja? He is perfectly capable. He killed a Marechaussee, did he not?”

Nick didn’t kill the Marechaussee; Juliette Silverton did. But telling De Groot that would benefit no one, so Alexander kept it to himself.

Not knowing what else to say, he defeatedly asked, “What am I supposed to do?”

“From what you’ve told me, the situation appears to be worsening. I want you on the next flight out of Portland. We can monitor Burkhardt’s progress from the office.”

Alexander’s shoulders slumped. The phone almost dropped from his hand.

He couldn’t leave yet. This case was taking a terrible toll on Nick. Even if there was little he could do against Luke, he needed to stay for Nick’s sake. He recalled the alley behind the spice shop, where Nick had quietly broken down in his arms.

Nick needed him. He couldn’t just leave.

“Sir, I don’t mean to undermine you, but Nick Burkhardt is the first Grimm in history to repeatedly place his life on the line for the Wesen community. He has proven time and again that he is willing to cooperate with the Council. He’s even aligned himself with Hexenbiests. By leaving him to Verosik, we run the risk of letting an irreplaceable ally slip through our fingers, and. . .”

Alexander paused, steeling himself for reprimand, and boldly finished, “Because of his past association with the Verosiks, this case is uniquely difficult for him. I believe his resolve is stronger while I’m here.”

He held his breath through the ensuing silence. Even over the phone, with half a world between him and De Groot, the tension was palpable.

At last, De Groot spoke, and the chilly air of warning in his tone made Alexander’s heart sink.

“Do not forget where your loyalties lie. As your superior and the Chairman of the Wesen Council, I am ordering you to return to The Hague immediately. Your service is of greater use here than in Portland.”

“I understand. Thank you, sir,” Alexander responded mechanically.

De Groot hung up, and for a long while, Alexander just stood there with the phone to his ear as if the conversation was continuing. Eventually, he let his arm drop to his side, but his feet remained rooted to the spot.

He had to return to The Hague. He had no choice. De Groot was right; he couldn’t forget to whom his loyalty belonged. Orders were orders.

But the thought of leaving Nick, of going home to a quiet flat and an empty bed. . . that didn’t feel like home anymore.

He loved Nick. He’d come to terms with that some time ago. Even as duty called and every logical instinct demanded that he start looking up flights to Europe, the thought of abandoning his Grimm made his stomach turn with guilt. In any other circumstances, he could have persuaded himself to leave with the assurance that Nick could handle himself, but knowing how easily Luke could hurt Nick, how effectively he could dampen his otherwise indomitable spirit. . . how could Alexander just pack his things and walk away?

He sensed he was arriving at a crossroads. Never in his life had he been faced with a choice of such magnitude, one that so profoundly cleaved his heart in two.

Before he could make a decision, his instincts perked up, and he found his attention drawn to the rooftop door. He could have sworn he’d heard footsteps. He might have attributed it to the wind, but then he heard it again, unmistakable this time: the stomping of booted feet overhead.

He woged into his Pflichttreue skin and crept soundlessly toward the stairs, peering up at the bolted exit. He heard the mechanical clocking of firearms, and his lips pulled back from his teeth with a growl.

The door blew inward with a deafening bang. The force of the explosion threw Alexander across the loft. He crashed into the kitchen table, which splintered under the impact. The back of his head smacked into the hard floor, and his mind clouded with dense, disoriented fog.

His vision went dark, fuzzing in and out of focus. The thumping of his own heart drowned out all other sounds. The ceiling light above him exploded in a shower of sparks, and he sluggishly lifted an arm to shield his face.

The last thing he glimpsed was a silver-haired, black-clothed figure striding towards him. Then the world dropped away, and he knew no more.

Chapter Text

Nick huffed and wheezed as he half-carried Luke to his suite. Luke stumbled along with him, though it was more of a hindrance than a help as his feet kept tangling with Nick’s.

“Alright, one more step up,” Nick panted. “Lift your—no, you have to lift your leg. Luke, that’s not—okay, here.”

Nick grabbed Luke’s pant leg and forcibly lifted his foot onto the top step.

“Aw, thanks, babe. You’re so good to me,” Luke slurred, flopping heavily against Nick and nearly knocking him over.

“Yup. We’re walking, we’re walking,” Nick directed, guiding him down the hall.

With help from Tanidev, who was scheduled for the first watch of the night, they successfully made it to the suite. While Tanidev retreated to his post, Nick toted Luke across the room and dumped him on the bed. Nick plunked down beside him, struggling to catch his breath. It wasn’t until tonight that he realized he’d been falling out of shape. He’d lost a disquieting amount of weight over the last two months.

He glanced over when Luke nudged him with a foot and drawled, “Hey, you know something? I haven’t been fucked in a while. You wanna top tonight?”

“No thanks.”

“You wanna hop on my dick, then?” Luke suggested, pawing at Nick’s thigh and batting his eyelashes.

Nick scooched away and firmly said, “Look, tonight was fun, but you drank way too much.”

“Nah,” Luke said with dismissive flop of his hand. “I’m not some fucking lightweight. C’mere, baby, I wanna—”

His words caught in his throat. Nick realized what was about to happen a few seconds before it did, and he rolled Luke over just in time for him to vomit over the side of the bed. Nick held his hair out of the way and awkwardly patted his back as he retched onto the carpet.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Nick observed gently.

“Yeah, okay,” Luke conceded, his voice hoarse.

Nick pulled Luke’s shoes off, then helped him scooch up to the head of the bed and tuck in under the covers. As Nick stood up, Luke suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled it close to kiss his knuckles. His eyes were barely open as he murmured, “This was the one good thing I’ve been able to do this week. I really love you.”

Nick said nothing. It didn’t matter if he responded or not, because Luke wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning, but he was surprised to feel a worm of guilt wriggling in his heart.

He had no reason to feel anything but contempt for Luke. It had been two months since The Incident, and he still had nightmares. But since then, Luke hadn’t hurt him. If he was ever in a bad mood, the worst he would do was neglect to finish Nick off during sex. Aside from that, he made a point to be doting and sweet, whether that meant escorting Nick to work, inviting him to parties as a plus-one, or buying him small, frivolous gifts. Nick did what he could to return the favors, mostly because a tiny part of him was terrified of accidentally flipping the switch again. He knew his top priority was to collect intel, but he often found himself more concerned with tiptoeing around Luke’s mood swings.

Still, there were times when it was easy to forget he was playing pretend. Those moments, more than anything else, frightened him to his core, because he knew he couldn’t afford to foster any genuine feelings for Luke. Despite that, though, there were times when they would be laying in bed together, just quietly talking, or Luke would put an arm around him in public, or Nick would see Luke’s name on an incoming call and his heart would flutter with joy at the prospect of hearing his voice. In those moments, it was all too easy for Nick to forget why he was really there.

This wasn’t the first time Luke had let slip an “I love you.” Nick had yet to reciprocate. It would be smart to say it back, if only to assure Luke’s trust, but something kept him from doing so. It was that sense of guilt, that reminder that none of this was real.

“Go to sleep,” he said, giving Luke’s hand a squeeze.

As if on cue, Luke’s eyelids fell shut. His grip slackened and his face softened. As Nick gazed down at him, that familiar, confusing flutter of affection danced in his heart. He swallowed a lump in his throat and stood up from the bed, walking away before those intrusive feelings could make further headway. He had more important things to worry about.

He knelt beside the bed and slipped his hand into a slit in the mattress. From it, he pulled out a small flash drive. He then went to Luke’s desk and turned on his laptop. Before he went any further, he remembered to shoot a quick text to Elouise.

Had a good night. Ready to make tea date.

Elouise didn’t take long to respond.

Planning it now. Let me know if anything comes up.

Nick was jittery with anticipation. Elouise had slipped him the drive at their last meeting, alongside a note with a date written on it. She’d discretely explained that when that day came, she would be in communication with a spy contracted by the FBI. Nick would spend the day with Luke and, if the stars aligned, copy the data from his personal computer. When he was ready for the hand-off, Elouise would give the spy the go-ahead to sneak into the manor and retrieve the drive. She’d implied that the feds had a mole in Luke’s staff, and that person would help the spy get in and out of the manor without incident.

As Nick plugged in the drive and initiated a mass backup, he found himself fidgeting and periodically glancing at the door. What if Luke wasn’t as thoroughly passed out as he looked? What if the spy was caught on their way in? What if Nick and Elouise hadn’t been subtle enough with their texts, and the next time Luke went through Nick’s phone, he put together the implications of what they’d done?

Nick had little time to dwell on those scenarios, because soon enough, the door squeaked open and a scrawny man with a pinched, nervous face darted in. His gaze first fell on Nick, then Luke, who was sound asleep. His eyes grew wide and he drew back with a sharp inhale, flattening himself against the bedroom door.

“It’s fine, he’s out cold. I’ve got the thing,” Nick said hastily. He started to pull the drive, but stopped and swore under his breath when he saw that the backup wasn’t finished.

“He’d better be a hard sleeper,” the spy muttered, giving the bed a wide berth as he joined Nick by the desk.

“He’s completely wasted. Even if he was awake, he wouldn’t remember any of this.”

The spy looked unconvinced, but didn’t respond. He stole a sideways glance at the computer and did a double-take at the files he saw zooming by.

“Wow. He actually lets you see this much?”

“He assumes I won’t look for any of it at this point.”

“Huh. You really thought this through.”

Nick laughed awkwardly and said, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting for this since Elouise told me about it. I haven’t gotten to talk to many new people lately.”

Again, the spy declined to respond. They lapsed back into silence. Nick knew the spy was just there to do a job, but he had little to no face-to-face interaction with anyone outside of Luke’s staff nowadays. His visits with Elouise were increasingly sparse, and his involvement with the Blindlights was all but dissolved, although Tom Rodney did occasionally demand proof-of-life texts. As urgent as this operation was, Nick was excited to talk to someone new. He couldn’t resist striking up a conversation.

“So, uh. . . what’s your name?”

“The less we know about each other, the better.”

“Right. You’re right. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

More silence. Nick found himself drifting away from the desk, putting some distance between them. He desperately wanted to talk to the spy—in particular, to ask for updates on the investigation—but thought better of it and kept his mouth shut. The spy was right. The less they shared with each other, the better, just in case one of them was compromised.

To his surprise, the spy was the one to speak up next.

“Why did Firman bring you into this, anyhow? I’ve been wondering,” he inquired, a note of accusation slipping into his tone.

Nick found himself shrinking from the unexpected confrontation. He could have sworn he heard echoes of Luke’s words in the spy’s voice, asking if he still had his cell phone, or if he was free the following night, or if he understood that he wasn’t allowed to say no. A familiar coil of fear slithered through Nick’s gut, and he fell back a step with a nervous shrug.

“I wasn’t originally supposed to be here. I got involved with Luke more or less by accident, and Firman told me to stay close to him. So that’s what I’ve been doing.”

The spy stared hard at him, then shook his head and turned back to the laptop, grumbling under his breath, “Fucking idiot.”

Nick flinched. An automatic “sorry” slipped out before he could stop it.

“Not you,” the spy snapped. “Your captain. You don’t know what the hell you’re dealing with, but he’s letting you stay in the field anyway. Does he know Luke’s a psychotic prick?”

“Firman’s doing what he can. If we had any other options, he never would have asked me to—”

“Quit defending him. He’s a dick who’d throw his officers onto the train tracks if it meant moving his investigations forward. You shouldn’t be here.”

Nick wasn’t sure why that hurt so badly. It was true, but it stung to hear after he’d spent two whole months undercover. Were his efforts amounting to as much as he’d led himself to believe? Should he be taking more risks? Should he be aiming higher?

With his appetite for conversation gone, Nick shuffled back to Luke’s bed and perched on the edge. The spy was risking his life just as much as Nick was—arguably more so. The last thing Nick wanted to be was a nuisance, so he resolved to sit quietly while the spy finished his work.

Luke suddenly shifted under the covers and groaned quietly. The spy whipped around, sucking in a sharp breath. He tensed, poised to run, but relaxed when Luke didn’t move again. Nick kept his wary gaze on Luke as well, but didn’t rise from where he sat.

“Is he waking up?” the spy whispered.

“No. I told you, he’s passed out.”

“I don’t get how you can just sit there.”

“Habit,” Nick said with a shrug.

Discomfort colored the spy’s features, and he muttered a quiet “Right,” as he recalled Nick’s role.

At long last, the backup finished, and the spy ejected the drive. He started towards the door, but paused and turned back. Maybe he felt bad for his earlier brusqueness; maybe he just felt bad for Nick’s circumstances. Whatever the case, he said with a halfhearted smile, “I’m Ron.”

After a beat of hesitation, Nick shortly replied, “Nick.”

“Don’t get caught, Nick.”

“You, too.”

Nick watched as Ron slipped out of the bedroom. A million fresh worries flooded his brain (maybe a maid was cleaning right outside, or the next guard had arrived for his shift a few minutes early), but when he didn’t hear any commotion, he exhaled and reminded himself to relax.

He took his time undressing and showering. Luke had nice quarters, and Nick admittedly enjoyed the luxury. It was rare that he got the chance to spend empty time in Luke’s suite without the expectation of sex hanging over him. When he climbed into bed, his eyes were drawn to Luke’s hair, pooling over his pillow. Nick gently stroked it, and that earlier sting of guilt returned. This time, he was unable to brush it aside.

When he’d gone into this operation, he hadn’t expected to feel bad for Luke, but the reality of what he was doing was overwhelming. Sure, Luke was a shitty person who came from a shittier family, but Nick was starting to feel increasingly worse for manipulating him like this. On occasion, the notion even crossed his mind that he would deserve to be tortured in the basement if his ruse was ever found out—and in his heart of hearts, a tiny part of him whispered that he’d deserved The Incident.

In an attempt to tune out his own conflicted thoughts, Nick snuggled closer to Luke and shut his eyes. He switched his focus to more immediate issues, such as his next visit with Elouise. They’d scheduled an afternoon tea date for the next day, wherein Nick would confirm that he’d handed off the intel, and Elouise would confirm if Ron had successfully escaped with it. Even though these visits were just part of the job, Nick was excited. He liked Elouise, and he hadn’t seen her in a while.

Clinging to the promise of the coming day being a good one, Nick tucked his face into the pillow and drifted off to sleep.

*****

“It’s nice that you were able to come over. It’s been so long since we got to chat face-to-face,” Elouise said with a warm smile, offering Nick a plate of cookies.

Nick accepted a cookie and agreed, “Tell me about it. It’s been harder to get out lately.”

Elouise set the cookie plate on the coffee table and sat on the sofa across from Nick’s chair. Her house was full of cushy furniture, crocheted blankets, and pastel artwork. Being around her never failed to ease Nick’s anxiety.

“Speaking of getting out, you mentioned you had some fun plans yesterday?”

The question was laced with tension, and Nick had to think hard about how to answer. They both knew Elouise’s house was tapped, so they couldn’t discuss the operation outright.

“Yeah, it was one of the better days we’ve had,” he said at last. “We had a good time. Everything went according to plan. How’s the garden?”

“How’s the garden?” was their devised code for “How’s the investigation?”

Elouise’s face brightened. “Really well, actually! I planted some new sprouts last night, and they’re already taking root. I have a feeling these ones are going to grow up nice and strong.”

Nick was nearly startled out of his seat when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it and saw that Luke had texted him.

Where r u

Instinctual fear gripped Nick’s heart. Luke only texted that way when he was agitated.

“It’s Luke. Do you mind if I answer this real quick?” he asked, flashing Elouise an apologetic smile.

“Go ahead, sweetie.”

Nick typed a response as fast as he could, hoping a quick reply would soothe Luke’s temper.

With El. You ok?

He waited for a response, but when none came, pocketed his phone and turned back to Elouise, who had him fixed with a pensive frown.

“Is everything alright between you two?” she asked, suspicion leaking into her tone.

“Alright as always. He can just be a little high maintenance sometimes,” Nick chuckled, forcing a smile.

He still hadn’t told her about The Incident. He wasn’t sure how. His current strategy was to avoid thinking about it entirely. As long as he stayed in the moment—as long as he kept Luke happy—he would be fine.

Elouise didn’t seem fully convinced by his assurances. Nick squirmed in discomfort as she leaned forward on her cane and pressed, “Are you sure, dear? You’ve just been a little on edge lately. You two haven’t had any troubles, have you?”

Should he tell her? Could he tell her? What would she think of him? Would she look at him differently if she knew? Repression probably wasn’t best long-term plan. Even now, the memory of The Incident stuck in Nick’s thoughts like black tar, slowly eating him up.

He admitted with some reluctance, “Well. . . about two months ago, we did have one. . . issue.”

Embarrassment kicked in full throttle, so he quickly backpedaled, “We cleared it up, though, so there’s nothing to worry about now. Things have been good since then. But. . .”

Aside from The Incident, there was that recurring sense of guilt. Nick just barely stopped himself from fessing up to it.

“But?” Elouise prompted.

Nick chewed his lip. How could he possibly tell her that a part of him didn’t want to keep up the act? This investigation was so much more important than his own selfish wants, but it didn’t feel good to be so unabashedly manipulative, even with someone like Luke.

Maybe it would be a good thing if Firman knew he was approaching his limit.

“It’s just. . .” he began at last, “I’ve been with him for a while now, and I don’t want to hurt him. El, I think I—”

He paused and gulped. His tongue felt like sandpaper. It took all the courage he had to look Elouise in the eye and admit, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

His pocket buzzed again. He tensed when he saw Luke’s message.

I’m outside. Get out here now.

“What’s wrong?” Elouise asked.

“He’s outside.” Nick craned his neck to peek out the living room windows. Sure enough, a black limo was parked on the curb.

Be out soon.

Nick pocketed his phone and gave Elouise an apologetic smile.

“I’m really sorry, El, but I have to go.”

“We haven’t seen each other in over two weeks. You can’t stay a few more minutes?”

“No, he doesn’t like when I—” Nick cut himself off when he realized how bad that sounded and amended, “It sounds important. Can I call you later?”

Elouise looked disappointed, but nodded. “Alright, dear. I’ll clean up. You go ahead and take off.”

“Thanks, El.”

Nick grabbed his jacket and hurried to the front door, but when he opened it, he found Luke standing right there on the porch, scowling down at him.

He was angrier than Nick had ever seen him. No, angry was an understatement; he was livid. He practically radiated rage.

And every bit of that rage was pointed at Nick.

“You two-faced cocksucker,” Luke hissed, stepping inside and slamming the door behind him.

Nick clumsily backed away, his eyes wide. Ron must have been caught, he realized, and when Luke had seen all the intel he’d stolen, it wouldn’t have taken long to figure out where he’d gotten it.

“Luke, what’s wrong? Talk to me, baby,” Nick pleaded, as if he had any hope of actually reasoning with him.

Luke was across the room in an instant, grabbing Nick by the collar of his shirt and slamming him hard against the wall. Nick yelped and grasped his wrists, but was too frightened to try and fight back.

“It was you, wasn’t it? It’s been you this whole fucking time!”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Elouise yelled, springing to her feet.

The front door opened, and two of Luke’s guards, Merryn and Henley, ducked inside. They grabbed Elouise and pulled her away before she could move to help Nick.

“Let her go!” Nick shouted, throwing Luke’s hands off and lunging toward the guards. He didn’t get far before Luke grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him back. He spun Nick around to face him, and Nick shrank under his furious glare.

“You leaked that shipment route, didn’t you?” he growled.

Nick didn’t have to fake his confusion. What shipment? What route? Then it hit him.

He vaguely recalled something about shipment routes and trade deals in the backup files, but there was so much more for Luke to be angry about. If he was referencing a specific incident—an apparent shipment disruption—that could only mean one thing: Ron had succeeded. He’d escaped with the intel, and now the feds—and, hopefully, the police—were using it to interfere with Verosik operations.

It was rewarding for Nick to know he was helping, but now he was forced to deal with the fallout of the setback.

“Luke, I don’t know what you’re—”

“Shut up!”

Luke backhanded Nick across the face. The blow had him seeing stars, and Luke’s heavy metal rings forged shallow cuts in his cheek. Before he could recover, Luke grabbed him by the neck and hurled him across the room like a ragdoll. Nick crashed into the coffee table and cried out as glass sliced through his clothes and skin. He tried to crawl away, but Luke was on him again, picking him up as if he weighed nothing and throwing him through a pair of swinging double doors into Elouise’s kitchen. Nick landed hard and skidded across the tiled floor. He looked up to see Luke prowling towards him. He scrambled back with a whine of terror.

“Luke, I swear, I didn’t leak anything, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Luke yanked him upright and punched him square in the face. Nick’s nose shattered under his fist, and his head rocked back beneath the blow. Before he could speak, Luke punched him again, this time striking his jaw hard enough to crack a tooth. Nick’s head snapped to the side, and blood sprayed across the tiled floor.

Luke grabbed his chin and yanked his face up, forcing him to make eye contact. Nick’s vision fuzzed in and out of focus; he struggled to make out the details of Luke’s face.

“Answer me right, you rotten slut!” Luke snarled. “Do you really expect me to believe you had nothing to do with it? You’re one of the only people who could have accessed that information! So if it wasn’t you, who the fuck was it?”

“I don’t know, I swear. Please,” Nick begged, spitting up blood between words. He pawed at Luke’s chest and choked out, “Please, I love you, I wouldn’t lie to you, I wouldn’t—”

Luke hit him again, and everything went dark.

Nick resurfaced a few seconds later when Luke hauled him to his feet, dragged him to the sink counter, and slammed him front-down onto the edge. The air was knocked from Nick’s lungs, and he retched a messy gush of bile into the sink. Luke slammed him down a second time, and Nick felt his ribs crack under the force. Pain exploded in his chest, hot and sudden, and he frantically gasped for air that no longer seemed to be within reach.

Luke dragged him away from the counter and flung him back into the living room. Nick rolled across the floor, coming to a stop when he smacked into the couch. He flopped onto his back, mouth agape, chest heaving. Every breath was agony. Every movement made his muscles constrict around his cracked ribs. Blood filled his mouth and nose, threatening to choke him. Elouise screamed and thrashed against the two guards, but there was nothing she could do.

“I let you into my home. I let you into my bed,” Luke hissed, stalking over to Nick. “And you—this is what you give to me?”

He stomped his heeled boot onto Nick’s chest. A blast of blinding, red-hot pain made Nick convulse. His lips formed a desperate plea, but no sound followed. He hovered one trembling hand over his chest to indicate that he was hurt, but Luke didn’t care. He knelt down and struck Nick across the cheek with an open palm. Nick’s head hit the floor, and he instinctively lifted his left arm like a shield.

Luke seized him by the wrist and elbow and brought his forearm down over his knee. A loud snap echoed through the room.

Nick sucked in a whooping breath and let out a shrill scream. He was silenced when Luke’s hands closed around his throat like a vice. Luke straddled his chest, his weight crushing down on Nick’s cracked ribs, and strangled him with an iron grip.

Nick’s unbroken arm flew up, and he groped helplessly at Luke’s wrists. His mouth gaped and his eyes bulged. He stared up at Luke, hoping, praying, pleading that he would have a sudden change of heart, that the love he claimed to have for Nick would keep him from finishing what he’d started.

The only thing he saw in Luke’s eyes was hate, untouched by anything remotely resembling love.

Nick realized with sudden clarity that he was going to die then and there, struggling for breath underneath Luke, helpless and alone. He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want it all to end here, but his eyelids fluttered and his arm fell weakly to the floor. He wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t a match for Luke. He was going to die, and the world would go on without him.

A voice broke through the impending darkness then—not Luke, but Tanidev.

“We found the source of the leak. It wasn’t him.”

Luke’s hands disappeared. His inescapable weight lifted from Nick’s chest.

Air seeped into Nick’s lungs as he pulled a long, rattly breath. He choked and coughed when he accidentally inhaled some blood, but once his airway cleared, he could breathe. And oh, it was agony—every breath was like a host of metal spikes impaling his chest—but he could breathe.

Then someone was calling his name, and a set of hands clasped his face. He tried to tell them that his face hurt very much and could they please stop, but he was unable to speak.

“Nick, can you hear me? Come on, baby, open your eyes, I need you to wake up. I’m so sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to hurt you that bad, can you please look at me?”

Someone thumbed his eyelid open, and he lethargically tilted his head away. He tried again to speak, but the only sound that escaped him was a gurgly moan.

“Shit. Tanidev, take him out to the car. Henley, call Dr. Laurie. I don’t care what she’s doing; as soon as we get Nick home, he’s her top priority. If he doesn’t make it through the night, neither does she.”

“Yes, sir.”

A set of strong arms scooped Nick off the floor. He groaned again when the movement wracked his body with a fresh symphony of pain. His head lolled against a broad, muscled chest, and although it hurt to be folded and moved like this, the cadence of hurried footsteps and the gentle rocking that accompanied them invited sleep.

Sleep sounded good. He was tired. He was hurt. He just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to rest.

“Nick, I don’t know if you can hear me, but you need to stay awake until we can get you to Dr. Laurie.”

He didn’t want to stay awake. Staying awake was hard. Staying awake hurt. Why should he try?

Deciding that sleep was the much more appealing option, Nick welcomed the encroaching darkness and sank into unconsciousness.

*****

“How is he?”

“Stable, but it took some work. I had to use the rest of the Koschie-Flüssig. It’ll still take a few days for him to heal.”

“We’ve got a Koschie locked up downstairs. We can harvest more Flüssig. All I care about is that he’s stable.”

“Of course, sir.”

Nick’s eyelids felt like they were glued shut. It was a struggle to open them. When he did, his fuzzy vision was stabbed by harsh white light.

He tried to move, but his limbs were leaden, and his chest spasmed painfully. When he drew in a shallow breath, it rattled all the way down his windpipe, wreaking silent agony along its path. A stiff brace was locked around his neck, sparking a sense of sickening claustrophobia. His left arm was in the same boat, immobile in a heavy cast. His entire body felt clogged, sick, and his head pounded on all sides with a relentless migraine.

“Nick, are you awake? Can you hear me?”

When Nick cracked his eyes open again, he was met with the terrifying visage of Luke standing over him. A wheezy squeak of fright escaped him, and he wriggled helplessly only to find that he was restrained to the bed. Luke’s jaw tightened, and he placed a firm hand on Nick’s shoulder. Nick flinched, shrinking into the pillows, his shallow breathing close to hyperventilation.

Luke opened his mouth, then shut it. He was quiet for a long time. Finally, he clutched Nick’s hand and said, “Dr. Laurie’s the best physician I’ve ever had on payroll, but it’ll take some time for you to recover. It’ll be best if you stay here for a while.”

Nick made no attempt to speak. He just stared up at Luke, his heart thundering against his cracked ribs, his eyes wide and petrified.

Luke cleared his throat and went on, “You don’t have to worry about the leak. It didn’t even come from my staff. It was tracked back to one of my sister’s tutors. You’re off the hook.”

Even if Nick could have spoken, he’d have had nothing to say. Firman had only confirmed two other moles planted in the inner circle. One was a bodyguard, the other was now dead, and both were FBI. Nick supposed another informant could have been planted in the last two months, but he found that hard to believe. The only other explanation for why he was still alive was that someone had been framed for his actions. It made him sick to imagine an innocent tutor being imprisoned and tortured in his place.

“Listen, Nick, back at El’s place. . .” Luke’s brow furrowed with concentration, like he was struggling to find the right words.

Just when Nick started to think he might get an apology, Luke’s face settled into a cold, impassive mask. He released Nick’s hand and said, “Talk to Dr. Laurie if you need something,” before turning on his heel and striding from the room.

Nick was left alone, trapped in his own broken body with nothing but his fear and guilt to keep him company.

Chapter Text

The spice shop’s doorbell jingled, and Monroe and Rosalee shared an eye roll as Bud Wurstner darted in. He peeked out the window as if making sure no one was following him, then shuffled up to the front counter, nervously wringing his hands.

“What’s up, Bud?” Monroe asked, resigning himself to one of Bud’s rambles.

“Is that a serious questions?” Bud said with a high-pitched giggle. His face strained and the cords in his neck stood out as he leaned over the counter and hissed, “There’s an Endezeichen Grimm in Portland! Another one! I’ve been having flashbacks, and we’ve had three lodge meetings with less and less people showing up because they’re too scared to leave their homes! My neighbors have been badgering me for updates, but Nick hasn’t answered his phone once today, and—and—”

His head rolled and his skin rippled as he shuddered into a woge.

“Alright, Bud, just breathe. Remember to breathe,” Rosalee said, guiding him around the counter to sit on the stool. Bud clutched a hand to his chest and rocked back and forth, hyperventilating and mumbling to himself. After a minute of further reassurance from Rosalee, he calmed down enough to woge back to his human skin.

His focus darted between Monroe and Rosalee as he asked, “Have either of you heard from Nick? Do you know if he’s found anything?”

“Not that he’s told us,” Monroe said slowly.

The morning prior, when Alexander had shown up out of the blue for “Council business,” Monroe and Rosalee had spent much of the day theorizing about the spontaneous visit. Nick and Alexander left the shop on ostensibly civil terms, so it could be assumed that the conversation had gone well. Monroe and Rosalee suspected it involved Luke Verosik, and so agreed that the less involved they were, the better. Still, they’d been under the assumption that Nick would call with an update, but after a full day and night of radio silence, they had yet to hear from him.

“Oh, God, I can’t take this!” Bud cried, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at his forehead. “Two Endezeichen in the same city within just a few years of each other?”

“Well, the first guy wasn’t technically—”

“I just can’t believe it! These things don’t happen! They’re supposed to be gone! Of all the places in the world for this kind of stuff to go down, why here? Why Portland? Why is it always Portland?”

“Take a breath,” Rosalee reminded him gently.

Monroe gave Bud a comforting pat on the shoulder and said, “Try to relax. I’m sure Nick’s got this under control. Believe me, he’s dealt with a lot worse than this. Anyway, Portland’s a big city. I doubt a Grimm would come here for an Eisbiber, a Fuchsbau, or a Blutbad. What are the odds that any of us are ever going to see the guy?”

As if cued by the irony, the door opened, and Luke Verosik strolled into the shop.

Long blond hair hung down his back like a sheet of silk. His shirt and tailored coat were unbuttoned just enough to let the edges of intricate tattoos peek out, dark against his pale skin. His gothic outfit was all expensive black clothing and silver jewelry, and with his massive heeled boots, he had to stoop to pass under the doorframe. He effortlessly carried a terrifying presence into the small shop, as if death itself had walked in to admire their wares.

“Hi,” he drawled, flashing Monroe, Rosalee, and Bud a wolfish smile.

To their collective horror, he locked the door and turned the sign in the window to CLOSED. He sauntered into the middle of the shop, and the three Wesen shuffled away from him. Monroe stepped protectively in front of Rosalee and Bud, poised for a fight.

Luke regarded them for a moment, then said with a tone of false sympathy, “I get that this is a little awkward, but I was feeling sociable today, so I thought I’d stop by to have a gander at Nick’s menagerie.”

“You aren’t welcome here,” Monroe growled. He woged, and his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl.

Luke didn’t look the least bit intimidated. He rolled his eyes and tsked, “Don’t go there, babe. These nails were expensive. I’d hate to break one.”

“I’ll call the police,” Rosalee said bravely.

Luke made a show of turning to the door, then back to them.

“For walking into your shop?” he asked innocently. He crossed his arms and said with a shrug, “Go ahead. Call ‘em. I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere.”

“I’m calling Nick,” Rosalee decided, her voice trembling.

A delighted grin broke out on Luke’s face.

“Oh, please do! I was just about to call him myself. We talked earlier today, but I’ve got a few new tidbits to share. Go ahead and put him on speaker, honey.”

Rosalee called Nick and put the phone on speaker, holding it out so everyone could hear. Luke made no move to attack or leave. He just stood where he was, looking perfectly at ease, a pleasant smile resting on his face.

In contrast to Nick’s recent negligence in answering his phone, he picked up on the second ring.

“Rosalee, I’m glad you called. Everything alright?”

“Um. . .” Rosalee gulped and stammered, “I’m in the shop with Monroe and Bud. Luke is here. He wants to talk to you. You’re on speaker.”

Silence fell over the shop. Luke approached with slow, predatory steps and plucked Rosalee’s phone from her hand. He flashed her a smile and sashayed away, ambling around the shop.

When Nick spoke, there was an icy fury in his voice that neither Monroe, Rosalee, nor Bud had ever heard from him.

“I swear, Luke, if you lay one goddamn hand on them—”

“It’s nice to hear your voice again, babe,” Luke interrupted. “And don’t worry about your little pets. If they don’t start shit, neither will I.”

“They have nothing to do with this. Leave them out of it.”

“They have everything to do with your personal life, from what I hear. Anyway, they’re not the ones you should be worried about right now.”

There was a weighty pause.

“No.”

Luke smirked and declared, “That’s right. I found that special someone you’ve been diddling. See, after that stunt you and your friends pulled last night, I thought we could use a change of pace. I figured it wouldn’t take long before you got up to something new, being the conniving, Wesen-fucking fag you are.”

Monroe, Rosalee, and Bud flinched at his harsh words, but Luke paid them no mind. He absently inspected a jar of spice as he went on, “So here’s what I want, Nick: I want you to drop whatever plan you’re hatching—if there even is one—and I want you to come see me again. We can rendezvous at my place whenever you’re available, hash things out like grown folk, and you can have your beau. Sound fair?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“No, you’re not.”

Without another word, Luke hung up. He tossed the phone onto the counter beside the register, gave Rosalee a sweet smile, and said, “Thanks for the call, honey. Lovely shop, by the way. I’ll be sure to stop by again once Nick and I have settled up.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode to the door, his coat and hair billowing dramatically behind him. He chuckled smugly to himself as he ducked out of the shop and strolled away down the street.

The three Wesen didn’t move, even as the door swung shut and the bell tinkled merrily in Luke’s wake. They stood in shocked silence until Monroe breathed, “What the hell?”

*****

Nick was in his car and speeding away from the precinct before Hank or Wu could stop him. They ran in pursuit, calling his name, but he barely heard them. He could scarcely think as he bulleted down the street, heading for Luke’s manor.

Luke had taken Alexander—right from Nick’s loft, right from under his nose.

Nightmarish images flashed across Nick’s mind: Alexander’s empty-eyed head rolling across the ground; his curled, feeble frame charred to a crisp; his body mutilated, strung up, and left to bleed out from a constellation of fresh wounds. The onslaught of fantasies was capped off by the morbid visage of Luke lounging in an armchair, sipping a glass of wine and admiring a rug of spotted white fur beneath his feet.

Alexander couldn’t be dead. Nick couldn’t accept that. He wouldn’t. He refused to accept that Luke might have already killed him and was waiting to throw his decapitated head at Nick’s feet.

The drive through Portland blurred by like a fever dream. In no time at all, Nick was screeching to a stop in front of Luke’s manor. He stormed up to the front door, where two guards awaited. Neither one looked surprised to see Nick. They moved forward to intercept him, but he ripped his gun from its holster, pistol-whipped one of them in the face, and jabbed his hand into the other’s throat. Both men dropped like stones. Nick kicked in the door and ran inside before they could rise.

Luke was in the foyer, standing between the parallel staircases, waiting for Nick with a smug leer on his face. He didn’t balk as Nick stalked forward and furiously aimed his gun at him. Nick heard dozens of firearms being raised and readied around him, but he paid them no mind.

“Where is he? What did you do to him?” he demanded.

“That was quick. I’m glad you’re here, babe,” Luke said brightly, ignoring the question.

“Shut up!” Nick snapped. He rushed forward, but before he could get close to Luke, a wall of guards swarmed him, wrestling the gun from his hands and grabbing him from all sides. Nick punched and kicked wildly, but was quickly overwhelmed. The guards forced him to his knees, and Luke approached with his usual pompous swagger.

“You haven’t gotten much smarter over the years, have you?”

“Where is he?” Nick shouted, thrashing against the guards.

Luke crouched down, eyeing him with a fond, nostalgic smile.

“How about this: you spend the afternoon here, we fool around for a bit, and I’ll answer whatever questions you have. What do you say?”

“I hate you. I fucking hate you!” Nick spat.

Luke caressed his face, and grinned when he recoiled. “I know you do, baby. That’s what makes this so damn fun. You hate my guts, but you’ll let me fuck your tight little ass anyway, because I’ll kill your doxy if you don’t.”

“How do I know he’s not already dead?”

“Aw, sweetie. When I kill him—and I will before I leave Portland—I’m gonna do it nice and slow, and you’re going to watch every second of it. I want to see the look on your face when he starts begging, when you realize you can’t do a damn thing to help him. Where’s the fun in popping him off-page?”

“I’ll kill you,” Nick vowed, glaring right into Luke’s eyes. “I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better. So, how about it? You stay here a few hours, we have some fun, and your beau lives to woge another day. Sound like a deal?”

Nick hated Luke. He hated himself for playing so easily into Luke’s hands. He was starting to hate De Groot for ordering Alexander to stay in Portland when Luke first started his killing spree. But hate wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He needed to buy time until he could figure out how to save Alexander.

It made him sick, but he shut his eyes and nodded in resentful agreement.

Luke leaned in and whispered, “I can’t hear you, Nick. Say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want—" Nick stopped, every inch of him trembling with rage. He swallowed bile and ground out, “I want to stay with you.”

“Good boy.” Luke affectionately booped the tip of Nick’s nose, then stood and waved a hand at the guards. “Take him up to my room.”

It finally sank in that there was no way out of this. All the fight drained out of Nick at once, and he went limp in the guards’ arms as they dragged him through the manor. He didn’t even pay attention to the route they took. It didn’t matter anymore.

The guards dropped him unceremoniously in Luke’s room, then silently retreated when Luke entered and dismissed them. Luke hauled Nick to his feet, dragged him to the bed, and bent him face-down over the edge. His hands waltzed over Nick’s body, sliding under his clothes to explore bare skin. Soft, gloating words left his lips, but Nick tuned it all out. He didn’t have the will to resist anymore. He just wanted to get it over with.

He shut his eyes as his pants were yanked down around his ankles. He thought Luke intended to fuck him just like that, but he was suddenly flipped onto his back. Luke lifted his legs and pushed them out of the way, cupped Nick’s jaw with bruising strength and forced him to meet his eyes.

“I’m going to let you go after this, like I did when I fucked you the other night, but don’t think for a second that this is going to be the end of the new us. We’re just getting started.” He unbuckled his belt and triumphantly cackled, “Here’s to the new us, Nick!”

Nick howled as Luke slammed into him with vigorous brutality. He started bleeding with the first thrust. If Luke experienced any pain from the dry entry, it only spurred him on. He pinned Nick flat against the bed and rammed into him, assaulting his neck with hard bites and rough kisses. Nick sobbed, shrinking as deep into the bed as he could, wishing he was anywhere else. He felt like he was suffocating. He felt like he was dying.

"Fuck, I love you so much,” Luke groaned against his neck. “Love you so much. Scream for me, baby.”

Nick screamed.

*****

Hank and Wu rushed into the spice shop, Renard following close behind, and Rosalee hurried to meet them.

“Thank God you guys are here! Where’s Nick?”

They gaped at each other, then at her.

“We thought he was coming here,” Hank stammered.

“We haven’t seen him.” Monroe threw his arms up with an agitated flare and exclaimed, “What the hell is going on? How does Nick even know this guy? Why would he come here?”

“Apparently they dated a while back, before Nick was a Grimm. He was undercover, and using his position to spy on Luke’s family. He didn’t give us a ton of personal details, but it sounded like Luke was pretty serious about him.”

After a long pause, Monroe thoughtfully remarked, “Huh. I didn’t know Nick was—”

“Neither did we, but let’s save that conversation for another time,” Hank interrupted.

“Right. But where would Nick have gone? To confront Luke?”

“Probably, but we don’t know where Luke is,” Renard pointed out. “From what he said over the phone, it sounds like they’ve already been in contact, so I’m sure Nick knows where he’s going. But until he reaches out to us, there’s nothing we can do.”

Rosalee shook her head and said, “There has to be some way we can help him.”

“Listen to me for a minute,” Renard stated, stepping into the middle of the group. “We all know Nick, and we all know that he wouldn’t normally hide something this big from us. He would have at least told you two, or maybe Adalind. Now, Luke obviously brought a lot of power with him and is willing to cross a lot of lines, so I doubt he’d have any problem threatening Nick into keeping his mouth shut.”

“I’ve never known Nick to keep his mouth shut when someone threatens him,” Monroe interjected.

“Then it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume Luke threatened you and Rosalee. You two are Nick’s strongest anchors to the Wesen world. You’re the closest friends he has outside the precinct, and you’re vulnerable. All Luke would have to do is hold your names under a guillotine, and Nick would do whatever he wanted. I wouldn’t be surprised if he threatened Adalind and Kelly, too. Maybe we can’t help him right this instant, but we can facilitate in the long run by getting you to safety.”

“Luke’s got to have eyes on the precinct. If we make a move, he’ll know, and he might kill whoever he kidnapped from Nick’s loft,” Wu argued. He made a face and asked, “Anyone else wondering about that, by the way?”

“Let’s deal with the homicidal ex before we discuss the secret girlfriend,” said Hank.

“Or boyfriend, apparently,” Monroe chimed in.

Rosalee suddenly gripped his arm and said with a look of alarm, “You don’t think he’d be with. . .”

She trailed off. Monroe hesitantly probed, “Be with who?”

Rosalee released him and shook her head.

“Never mind. That’s impossible. Let’s just focus on the homicidal ex.”

“Right. So, if we can’t make a move from the precinct without catching Luke’s attention, how do we get you guys into hiding?” Hank posed.

Wu slipped his hands into his pockets and suggested, “Anyone else thinking it might be time to give Eve and Trubel a call?”

*****

Nick stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, moving to stand in front of the mirror. It was fogged with steam, so he reached out and swiped away a window of clear reflection.

He stared at himself for a long time. Finally, he turned away from the mirror and grabbed his clothes, which were folded neatly atop the toilet tank. He’d worn them for two days now, but he was glad he’d turned down Luke’s offer of a fresh outfit. He didn’t want anything from Luke.

The door opened as Nick dressed, but he didn’t turn around.

“How do you like the shower? Nice and roomy, isn’t it? I should have joined you.”

“Fuck off,” Nick muttered.

Luke sidled up behind him and wrapped his arms around his middle. Pecking a kiss to the nape of his neck, he chided, “Is that any way to speak to someone who lets you pass out in their bed and use their shower? You can be a little nicer than that. Your beau is English. Maybe he can teach you some manners over tea.”

He cupped Nick’s chin and pressed tender kisses along the side of his neck. Nick hated how small he looked in the mirror with Luke looming behind him.

“I hate you,” he whispered, staring daggers into his reflection. He watched his face contort with ugly loathing. “I hate you so much.”

“I know, honey. I hate you, too. But you know what? As much as I hate you for what you did to me and my family, I still love you. I don’t think I’ll ever find someone like you. I mean, after everything we went through together. . .”

Nick wasn’t fully dressed yet, but Luke began peeling off his clothes and tossing them onto the floor.

“You made my life Hell,” Nick said in a low voice. “For so long, I was afraid to fall asleep because I knew I would just see you. It took years before I stopped thinking I was back in that fucking house every time I woke up.”

“Aw, you’re so obsessed with me. It’s adorable.”

Once Nick was naked, Luke shoved him forward onto the counter with a viciousness that didn’t match his tone and grabbed a bottle of lube from a drawer. Nick knew it wouldn’t do much good, but Luke prepped him anyway, sliding two wet fingers inside him. Nick’s prostate buzzed from the stimulation as Luke’s fingers ground into him, but the ocean of lingering pain commanded his body’s reactions, so his penis remained flaccid and disinterested. Nick preferred it that way. He didn’t want to enjoy anything Luke did to him, even if it was entirely involuntary.

“You’re really not liking this, are you, honey?” Luke muttered unhappily.

“Just fuck me and get it over with,” Nick snapped.

“Don’t be like that, babe. I want to share the fun this time.”

Luke pulled what looked like a perfume bottle out of another drawer. It was filled with a suspicious purple liquid. Before Nick could ask what it was, Luke yanked his head back and forced the thin nozzle up one of his nostrils. He spritzed two shots of the liquid into Nick’s nose before Nick was able to lurch away.

“What is that?” he coughed, hacking and sneezing onto the counter.

“Just a little something to loosen you up. Let’s just say you’d be more likely to find it in a place like that spice shop than your average convenience store.”

Nick’s vision warped, and he swayed in place. He felt drunk. He almost collapsed to the floor, but Luke grabbed him and shoved him back up against the counter. Every subtle touch zapped Nick’s skin with electric heat. His heart sped up, pumping blood right to his groin.

His foggy brain finally wrapped around the fact that Luke had given him sort of aphrodisiac.

“N-No, I don’t. . . I don’t want—”

“Relax. You ought to be familiar with this stuff. You hunted a Totliebhaber once, didn’t you?”

“I. . . I don’t. . . understand.”

Nick’s tongue felt thick. He stumbled over every word he tried to speak.

“I know, honey. A double shot is a little much. This is Totliebhaber-Flüssig, harvested and processed from the spinal fluid of a Totliebhaber. It’s pretty potent shit—think Viagra times ten. I occasionally use a little half-spray if I’m having trouble keeping my stamina up.”

As if to demonstrate, Luke squeezed a tiny half-spritz into his nose. He snorted and shook his head, then added, “Even that much is a lot, but it’s not enough to tip me over like it’s tipping you.”

His pushed his fingers back into Nick’s hole and repeated the same skilled movements. This time, Nick spasmed with a jolt of pleasure that nearly knocked him off his feet. He gasped, bracing both hands on the counter to stay upright. His knees trembled and threatened to give out beneath him.

Luke pulled his fingers out, only to replace them with his cock. A desperate moan forced itself from Nick’s lips, and he arched back as Luke sank into him. After a few shallow thrusts that made his toes curl against the tiled floor, Luke yanked his head up to face the mirror. Nick’s stomach knotted with disgust when he saw Luke holding up his phone to record their reflection.

“I’m sure your Pflichttreue is starting to miss you. Why don’t we show him how much fun we’re having without him?”

“Hate you. . .” Nick panted, the words barely coherent. He bared his teeth and hissed, “I h-hate you. . .”

“That’s right, baby. Tell your boyfriend just how much you hate him.”

Nick couldn’t form the words to protest that his hate belonged solely to Luke, not Alexander. The only thing he could clearly think about was how repulsively good Luke felt inside him.

Luke gave a sudden hard thrust that made stars dance across Nick’s vision. He was going to come, he realized. He was going to come with Luke. He gathered what remained of his unraveling focus and tried to picture Alexander’s face. If an orgasm was inevitable, then he couldn’t be with Luke when it happened, at least not mentally.

That was Alexander standing behind him, he told himself. That was Alexander thrusting inside him. That was Alexander pinning him to the counter, grunting harshly in his ear. Those were Alexander’s lips on his neck, dragging across his skin and whispering muffled praise.

Alexander. Not Luke. Alexander.

When Nick finally came, his orgasm was powerful enough to double him over and make his eyes roll back. His entire body went rigid, and his hole clenched around Alexander’s cock. Alexander kept fucking him, harder and deeper with each thrust. It was the only sensation that existed, the only one that mattered. Nick gasped his name, though he could hardly hear his own voice. Alexander finished a few thrusts later, grinding deep inside him and crushing him against the countertop.

Alexander eventually pulled out. Nick’s eyes fell shut, and he might have passed out right there if it wasn’t for the thump of Alexander dropping his phone onto the counter.

Not Alexander.

Luke.

Nick’s eyes snapped open. His head gradually cleared, and his mind replayed the session in a visceral loop.

Luke had fucked him—he’d raped him—and Nick had liked it.

No, he hadn’t liked it. He was drugged, and his body responded to stimulation. That wasn’t the same thing. It wasn’t his fault. He’d hated every second of it—hadn’t he?

When he became aware that Luke was no longer pinning him down, he pushed himself up and staggered away from the counter. His gaze fell to a white puddle on the floor: his own semen. He lifted his eyes to stare at Luke, who was calmly buckling his belt. Luke looked him up and down with a smirk and pocketed his phone.

“For all your complaining, you sure seemed to enjoy that,” he remarked. “I probably could have gotten your rocks off without the drugs, but—”

Nick lunged, tackling Luke off his feet, and they fell to the bathroom floor together. Nick attacked Luke everywhere he could reach, in every way he could; he punched him, slapped him, clawed at his porcelain skin. Luke tried to grab his wrists, to throw him off, but Nick headbutted him, breaking his perfect nose with a satisfying crunch. He wrenched his hands from Luke’s grasp and scratched at his face, at his eyes, gouging at them, ripping at those blue eyes that had haunted his dreams for so many years and stolen so much of his life.

A trio of armed guards peeled Nick off of Luke and dragged him from the bathroom. He twisted and thrashed and snapped. He fought so hard that he managed to get loose, just for a moment. That moment was all he needed. He lunged away, barreling back towards Luke to finish what he’d started.

He was thwarted when more guards tackled him from all sides. He lost count of how many hits he took as they worked to restrain him. They eventually wrestled him to the ground, flattening him into the carpet, smothering him with their combined weight. He could only watch as Luke dragged himself to his feet with a groan and stumbled out of the bathroom. He almost fell, but caught himself on the door frame. His face was a bloodied mess; he wiped a smear of blood from his broken nose with the heel of his palm.

Staring down at Nick in bemusement, he panted, “I keep forgetting you’re a Grimm now. Didn’t think you had all that in you.”

“I’ll kill you!” Nick screamed. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Sure, Nick. Sure.”

Luke grabbed a towel and pressed it to his gushing nose. He snapped his fingers at a nearby guard and ordered, “Dump him back at his place. I have to clean up his mess.”

One of the guards delivered an expert blow to the back of Nick’s head, and the world dropped away.

Chapter Text

Nick sat on the couch by the bedroom window, with a blanket draped over his lap and a book open on his knees. He’d read it before, but he didn’t have much else to do, since Elouise had told him to hold off on gathering new information (“We can wait a while for our next tea. Don’t strain yourself,” was the confidential version she’d given him over the phone). It was an admitted relief to know that he wouldn’t have to think about work for a few days, but it also left him stuck in Luke’s manor with little to occupy his thoughts.

Thankfully, Luke’s days were busy, so Nick was at least granted regular time to himself. However, when Luke would come home in the evenings, Nick’s stomach would turn and his hands would begin to shake. Just being close to Luke was almost enough to send him into a crippling spiral of terror. If Luke noticed, he didn’t mention it. He’d made a marked effort to be gentler and more attentive, and he didn’t pressure Nick so strongly for sex (though he still hinted at and encouraged it, so Nick was usually guilted into a reluctant handy or blowjob).

Despite his fears, the past three days had given him the chance to heal. Knowing exactly how badly Luke had beaten him—had almost killed him—Nick had no idea how his body was mending so quickly. He’d tried to coax the information out of Luke’s in-house physician, Dr. Laurie, but she’d been pointedly tightlipped about it. He’d come close to broaching the subject with Luke, but had gotten cold feet and backed out for fear of rekindling any lingering anger.

As Nick turned a page, his phone buzzed, and a text from Elouise appeared.

Are you ok?

Nick considered typing up a response, but settled for a single thumbs-up emoji. Elouise didn’t reply, and Nick didn’t elaborate.

He was shaken out of the peaceful moment when the door opened and Luke walked into the suite. He wore an odd, calculating expression, and that alone was enough to make Nick’s heart plummet with dread. Had he done something Luke didn’t like? Was Luke tired of abstaining from anal? Had he found out that Nick really had been involved in the recent leak?

Despite his uncertainty, Nick shut his book, forced a smile, and sat up straight. The movement aggravated his sore ribs, but the pain wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been three days prior.

“You’re home early,” he said, aiming for a casual tone. “Everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. Great, actually. Today was. . . productive,” Luke replied with uncharacteristic nonchalance. He seated himself on the arm of the sofa and gazed contemplatively down at Nick. “How are you holding up, babe?”

“Better than yesterday. Whatever Dr. Laurie did really worked,” Nick said, lightly prodding the subject of the doctor’s mysterious cure-all.

Luke didn’t take the bait. He held one of Nick’s hands, brushed a thumb over his knuckles, and posed, “Since you’re feeling better, then, would you be open to answering a few quick questions?”

Nick gulped. His mouth felt dry. Had Luke found out somehow? Did he know about Ron? Nick had thought he was in the clear, but a lot could change in three days.

Resolving to play dumb, Nick nodded and said, “Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Good.”

Luke gave him an affectionate smile and kissed his hand, then snapped his fingers at the open door. Nick’s eyes widened when two guards dragged a man into the suite. He was badly beaten; one eye was swollen shut, blood seeped from a mouthful of broken teeth, and his faced was colored by one conglomerate bruise. When he lifted his head, heaving a shallow, gurgly breath, Nick recognized him, and the blood drained from his face.

Ron had been caught. To his credit, his expression didn’t change when he saw Nick, indicating no ounce of recognition.

“Should I be in here for this?” Nick asked hesitantly, glancing up at Luke.

“Yes, you should. Henley, close the door.”

One of the guards, Henley, did as he was told. Luke tugged Nick off the sofa and guided him to stand in front of Ron.

“Nick, baby, I just have one important question. If you answer it right, we can be done for the day. Are you good with that?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Nick relented, his stomach pitching.

Standing close behind him and gripping his shoulders, Luke crooned in his ear, “I want you to look very closely at the man in front of you. Have you seen him before?”

“No,” Nick said after what he hoped was an appropriately timed pause of fake scrutiny. As horrible as he felt for throwing Ron under the bus, the thought of being chained up in the basement himself was worse. “Why? What did he—”

He was cut off when Luke grabbed his neck and hissed, “Look again.”

“Luke, I swear I’ve never—”

“I just want you to be sure. Now, have you or have you not seen him before?”

“No, I haven’t seen—”

Luke spun Nick around and backhanded him across the face, sending him crashing to the floor with a yelp. Luke grabbed him by the hair, pulled him to his knees, and gave him a rough shake.

“You have seen him, haven’t you?” Luke insisted, his manic smile twisting into a sneer. “And you know damn well who he is, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t! I’ve never—”

Luke flung him into a nearby dresser. Nick rolled out of the way with a frightened squeak as it toppled to the ground. He shielded his face in anticipation of another hit, but Luke grabbed his wrist and dragged him back to the middle of the room. Nick felt his shoulder pop, and he was stabbed by a sudden bolt of pain.

“Luke, you’re hurting me!”

“Then squeeze some sense out of your thick fucking head and answer me!” Luke shouted. He yanked Nick to his feet and punched him in the gut. Nick doubled over with a wheeze, and Luke punched him hard in the face. He dropped to the floor, gasping for breath. He clutched his chest as his ribs smarted with pain.

Luke grabbed his arm—which Nick was certain had been dislocated—and forcibly flipped him onto his back. He crouched over him and pulled him upright by the collar of his shirt. Grabbing his face and turning him to look at Ron, he hissed, “He was caught a few miles from here, at a bunker that connects a network of underground tunnels—tunnels that happen to lead right into this house. Do you know what he was found with?”

Nick tearfully shook his head, though he had a good idea what the answer was.

“A polaroid camera and an empty flash drive. He was going to break into my home and steal from me. But isn’t it a funny coincidence that he knew exactly how to enter this house undetected? It’s especially interesting if you consider the theory that a mole is hiding right in the middle of the family.”

Nick gulped and stammered, “Luke, I told you, I would never lie to you. I don’t even know what tunnels you’re talking about—”

“And isn’t it interesting,” Luke maintained, his rage visibly intensifying, “that the information the police have recently been acting on comes from documents that only Verosiks have access to? What are your thoughts on that, Nick? Got something you’d like to share with the class?”

It took every ounce of willpower Nick had not to spill everything he knew and beg for his life. He couldn’t give in. Maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance to dissuade Luke without fessing up.

“I get why you’re going in this direction,” he began, clasping Luke’s hands in what he hoped looked like a loving gesture, “but I don’t know who this guy is, I don’t know what tunnels you’re talking about, and I have no idea who’s leaking information. I just know it isn’t me.”

He rested one trembling hand on Luke’s chest. When Luke didn’t immediately break his arm, Nick took his hesitation as a good sign and persisted, “I would never betray you. I love you. You know that.”

“Do I?” Luke countered, his eyes narrowing. His voice was cold as ice.

Nick sat up straight, cautiously closing the distance between them. “I know why you would suspect me, but I promise it’s not true. I would never do anything to hurt you. I love you. Please believe that.”

Luke was still and silent as a statue. The tension in the room was palpable. Nick just held his hand over Luke’s heart in an appeal for peace, whispering soft promises of love and loyalty.

Just when he thought he was finally getting through to him, Luke reached into his coat, drew a gun, and pressed it to Nick’s forehead.

“No, Luke, please!” Nick begged. He grasped Luke’s wrist, but didn’t try to grab the gun or push him away; that much open defiance would guarantee a bullet to the skull.

The only thing he could do was hold onto Luke and plead for his life. He repeated how much he loved him; he insisted that all he wanted was to be loyal to him forever; finally, he devolved into hysterics, begging Luke not to kill him.

Nick had led himself to believe by that point that he didn’t have a smidge of dignity left, but his heart wrenched with shame when he thought of how pathetic he must look. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Ron must have thought of him in that moment.

The tension finally broke as, with a growl of frustration, Luke pulled the gun away from Nick’s head and dropped him to the floor. Nick landed on his back with a gasp, falling limp with relief.

“Thank you,” he breathed, shutting his eyes. “Thank you. . . I love you. . .”

Without the slightest hint of remorse, Luke raised his arm and fired a procession of gunshots into Ron’s head. Nick flinched and squeezed his eyes shut as Luke emptied the clip. The shots were followed by silence, then the thump of a body hitting the floor.

Nick didn’t move. He didn’t dare look at Ron. A single tear slid down his face, but he didn’t wipe it away for fear that even the slightest movement might set Luke off. He just lay there on the floor with his eyes shut, waiting. What exactly he was waiting for, he didn’t know, but with how narrowly he’d just avoided death, he couldn’t take any chances.

At last, Luke spoke, addressing his guards.

“Take his phone. No more calls. He doesn’t leave this room without supervision. I want someone outside the door 24/7.”

The guards “Yes, sir” -ed and carried Ron’s body out into the hall. Luke glared down at Nick, and Nick flinched when he snapped, “I’ll deal with you when I’m done cleaning up your mess.”

He stalked from the bedroom without another word, leaving Nick alone.

*****

Nick’s hands shook violently as he dug his emergency burner phone out from where it was hidden in his mattress. His heart was pounding so fast he feared he was on the brink of an aneurysm.

He’d snuck out of Luke’s manor through a window, knowing he wouldn’t get another chance. From there, he’d hailed a cab back to his apartment, using what little cash he’d found in Luke’s desk drawer. Luke had been paying his rent for the last two months—even though Nick had been living with him for most of that time—and by some miracle, no one had broken in while the unit was unoccupied.

He’d spent his first few minutes home immobile on the couch in a daze of cathartic relief. But now, every instinct screamed that his escape had been too easy, that after the lengths Luke had gone to to keep him isolated, there was no way he would be allowed to simply walk out. He had a sick feeling that something terrible was coming his way.

It took several minutes of scrounging and searching to remember where he’d hidden his emergency burner, but as soon as he found it, he dialed Elouise’s number. His hands trembled so violently that the phone threatened to slip from his fingers.

At long last, the receiver picked up. Nick almost sobbed in relief at the sound of Elouise’s voice.

“Hello?” she greeted hesitantly. She obviously didn’t recognize the number, but was unwilling to ignore it.

“El, it’s me.”

“Oh my God, Nick?”

“You have to help me,” Nick said, the words spilling out in a stammered rush. “I got out, but there’s no way it’s over. He’s going to come back for me, I know he is. I really need help. I don’t know what to do, and I’m so fucking scared right now—”

“Alright, just slow down. Where are you?”

“I’m at my apartment. I—” Nick paused, and the gravity of what he’d done finally sank in. He sat back on his knees and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?”

“I left him,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I know it was my one job, but I couldn’t do it anymore. He killed Ron, and I couldn’t stay with him, so I left. I’m at my apartment, and—and I’m—I’m—”

He broke down, balling a fist against his mouth.

“Nick—” Elouise started, but he interrupted her in a panic.

“You can’t tell Firman. Please, El, you can’t tell him. I fucked up so bad, I know that, but I couldn’t do it anymore, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Burkhardt,” interjected a new voice.

“Sergeant Hackle?”

“I’m right here, kid.”

“Where’s Firman?”

“He’s at the precinct. Where are you?”

Nick’s head whipped around at the sound of thunderous banging on his apartment door. Someone shouted his name from the hall outside, and his heart just about stopped. He knew it had been too easy.

Hackle demanded, “Burkhardt, what’s going on? Are you still with me?”

“He’s at my door.”

“Who?”

“Luke! He’s at my apartment right now, he’s at my door!”

Nick ran to his bedroom, slammed the door, and braced a chair under the handle, barricading himself inside. He backed away and slid down the wall beside the bed, cupping a hand over his mouth to muffle a low moan of fright. He pulled his knees to his chest, curling into a shivering ball on the floor.

“Listen to me, Burkhardt. Are you listening?” Hackle said, his tone sharp.

“Y-Yes, I—please, you have to help me, I’m so fucking scared—”

“Where’s your gun? Do you have it with you?”

“My. . .” Nick’s briefly drew a blank, but he soon stirred himself into action. He crawled to his nightstand and pulled a dusty handgun from the drawer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used it. “Yeah, I have it here.”

“Good. Make sure it’s loaded. Now, where’s your apartment?”

Nick gave him the address, and Hackle gruffly said, “Alright, don’t move. Stay on the line with Elouise. I’m bringing a squad to come get you.”

“What if he gets in?”

“Shoot him.”

There was some distant shuffling, and then Elouise’s voice returned.

“Just try and stay calm, sweetie. Keep talking to me. Hackle’s on his way.”

“Okay. Okay,” Nick whispered, struggling to catch his breath.

There was a loud crash. Nick dropped his phone with a shriek. As he was picking it back up, the door handle rattled, and Luke roared, “Open this fucking door, Nick!”

“Nick, what was that?” Elouise demanded.

“He’s in my apartment! I’m in my bedroom, and he’s at the door right now, he’s trying to get in! Please, El, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die here, I don’t—”

“You’re not going to die. Hackle’s on his way.”

“I’m so scared, please, I don’t want to die—”

“I’m right here, Nick. Don’t hang up. Everything’s going to be—”

The door burst open. Luke stood there, his face a hard mask of fury, a long, sharp knife grasped in his right hand. His eyes zeroed in on the phone.

Nick didn’t think. He leapt to his feet, throwing the phone aside and raising his gun, aiming right at Luke’s chest. His hands quaked, but at this range, he couldn’t miss. Luke froze, and Nick ticked off the seconds in his head as they stared each other down.

“Drop the gun, Nick,” Luke said coldly.

Nick didn’t respond. He didn’t even acknowledge that Luke had spoken. His eyes flicked down to the deadly-looking blade Luke carried, and gruesome fantasies flashed across his mind of what Luke could do to him with it.

Luke stepped forward. Nick stepped back, pressing himself against the wall. Luke took another slow step.

“Stop,” Nick choked out. Luke didn’t stop.

Nick ordered his hands to move, to shoot, to defend himself, but his body seemed unable to respond. His finger sat frozen on the trigger. Luke moved ever closer, his gait slow and predatory, until the barrel of the gun touched his chest.

“We both know you can’t do it,” he stated. He met no resistance as he grabbed the gun and ripped it away.

Nick flinched when Luke’s fingers brushed his cheek. Luke thumbed over his lip and mused, “Did you really think I would let you go?”

“Please,” Nick whispered.

“I considered bringing you in for interrogation, but. . . to be honest, I’m not sure could stomach that.” Luke cupped a hand under Nick’s chin, tilted his face up. “Look right up here, honey. Just keep your eyes up here, and I’ll make it quick.”

Nick stared up at him with wide, petrified eyes as the sharp tip of the knife pressed against his chest, right over his heart.

He didn’t want it all to end here. He didn’t want to die like this, alone and helpless, killed by the man who’d stolen his life.

“Luke, please,” he said, weakly grabbing Luke’s wrist. “Please don’t do this. I shouldn’t have left. I’m so sorry, baby, I was so wrong, but I can go back with you now. I can be yours again. Just. . . just don’t. . . please, Luke, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Luke said. The blade dug in, breaching the thin fabric of Nick’s shirt and stinging his skin.

In a flurry of panic, Nick tangled his fingers into Luke’s hair and yanked him down into a desperate kiss. It was the only thing he could think to do. The kiss weighed heavy with an unspoken promise to stay—a promise to love.

The pressure behind the blade eased. Luke closed his eyes and leaned in. Nick took that as a good sign and pulled back to whisper, “I love you.”

“You left,” Luke said, his tone flat and accusing.

“I know, and I’m sorry. But we can try again. And if you promise not to hurt me. . . I’ll be yours. You can have me however you want, and I’ll be willing and eager, and I’ll love you—only you. Please.”

Luke stared down at him for a long time. Nick held his stony gaze. A part of him hoped Luke would take more convincing; the longer he stalled, the closer he came to freedom. Sergeant Hackle had to be close. Nick couldn’t hear any sirens, but maybe that was deliberate. Maybe the squad was keeping their sirens off in hopes of catching Luke by surprise. Maybe they were already in the building and making their way up to Nick’s floor.

Before Nick could dwell further on his impending rescue, Luke grabbed his arm and towed him from the bedroom. Nick stumbled and almost fell, but managed to regain his footing. Luke led him out of his unit and to the stairwell. Nick’s stomach sank when they weren’t met by a SWAT team in the hall.

The next minute was a surreal blur; down the stairs, through the lobby, and out the door they went. Nick blinked in the sunlight and lifted an arm to shield his eyes. Looking up and down the streets, he saw no flashing lights. The only familiar vehicle was a black limo parked on the curb.

Luke didn’t say a word beyond, “Get in the fucking car.” He barely even looked Nick’s way as he ushered him into the limo. No guards were waiting inside, so once Luke gave his instructions to the driver and shut the divider window, they were alone. It was then, as they were driving away, that Nick finally heard the wail of approaching sirens. They were too far to help him, he knew; he and Luke would be long gone by the time they arrived.

A single tear of despair rolled down Nick’s cheek and dripped off his chin. Luke brushed it away and tilted Nick’s face up to meet his eyes.

“If you pull a stunt like this again,” he said in a low, serious voice, “I will kill you. Do you understand?”

Nick nodded, his eyes falling downcast. Luke’s nails dug painfully into his skin, and he growled, “You are mine. You will always be mine, and no one will take you away. You don’t get to say no to me.”

Nick threw a final desperate glance out the rear window just in time to see two squad cars and a SWAT vehicle pull up outside his apartment building. He thought he recognized Sergeant Hackle’s broad build and gray hair, but then the limo turned a corner, and they were out of sight.

Nick’s heart sank. Just like that, his last inkling of hope was snuffed out. He really was going to die with Luke.

Overcome with an unexpected sense of grief, Nick shut his eyes and let Luke kiss him.

*****

Nick bit his tongue to keep quiet as Luke rammed into him, fucking him against the shower wall. He had one hand on Nick’s hip and the other on the back of his neck, pinning him in place as he thrust into him, grunting harshly in his ear. He was rougher than usual, each thrust driven by rage and triumph, as if he was trying to fuck the message, “I caught you, I won,” into Nick’s head.

Nick was not remotely in the mood for sex. Any sparks of stimulation faded as quickly as they appeared, and the whole session was just tedious and uncomfortable. At that point, he just wanted to get it over with. He just wanted Luke to finish and leave him alone.

Finally, Luke came inside him, flattening him against the wall with a groan. Nick didn’t move or make a sound; he just waited quietly while Luke rode out his climax. Luke was inadvertently blocking most of the shower spray, so when he pulled out and stepped back, Nick was left shivering in the corner, cool air licking his damp skin. He shuddered in revulsion when he felt some of Luke’s semen drip down his thigh.

“Get yourself cleaned up. I’ve got shit to do,” Luke snapped, sliding open the shower door and stepping out.

“Okay,” Nick whispered, though he didn’t think Luke heard him.

Once he was alone, Nick took his time washing. It was slow going, thanks to the beating he’d taken earlier (Dr. Laurie had thankfully taken care of his dislocated shoulder), but he was glad to have the time to himself. He doubted he would get much more of it in the foreseeable future.

When he finally got out of the shower, he wrapped a soft bathrobe around himself and stopped by the sink to study his reflection. He was disturbed by how sunken his eyes were, how gaunt his face looked, how thin his frame was. In retrospect, he supposed he hadn’t been eating much lately. He just didn’t feel quite so hungry anymore. He hadn’t realized it was already taking a toll.

“Nick, come out here for a minute.”

Luke’s voice drifted from the bedroom with chilly intensity. Nick pulled his robe tighter and stepped out of the bathroom. Luke sat at his desk, studying a file on his laptop. His eyes were flinty as he beckoned Nick over with a quiet “C’mere.”

Nick obediently walked to the desk, where Luke slipped an arm around his waist and tugged him onto his lap. Nick glanced at the screen, and his stomach did a flip when he saw his own name displayed alongside the SUNY emblem.

Luke prompted, “Says here you went to State.”

“I did.”

Luke scrolled down. Nick’s fear grew as his college courses, grades, and GPA flashed by.

“It also says you majored in criminal justice.”

Nick prayed Luke couldn’t hear his thundering heart. Then, to his surprise, the records ended only three semesters in. Luke confirmed the anomaly when he said, “Apparently, you dropped out after less than two years.”

Nick stared at the screen. That wasn’t right. He didn’t drop out; he graduated, moved to Brooklyn, and started training at Firman’s precinct.

It took him longer than it should have to remember how he’d gotten around Luke’s background check when they first met—it seemed so long ago now. Firman had wiped his employment records. Evidently, he’d also managed to get in touch with SUNY admin to dot every i and cross every t, so all the elements of Nick’s cover story would match up.

“That was when I started using,” Nick said slowly, recalling the elaborate lie Firman had cooked up for him. “Elouise helped me get back on my feet, and I eventually got involved with Tom Rodney. Not exactly what I had in mind when I graduated high school.”

“Hm. Ironic.”

“Tell me about it.”

Luke hummed pensively, studying the screen a moment longer before scooching Nick off his lap and standing up. He opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a thin rectangular box.

“I commissioned this a few weeks ago. I wanted to give it to you sooner, but. . .” After a pause, he quietly said, “A lot of things changed today, but I still love you. That’s the one thing I know for sure. So you might as well have this now.”

He opened the box. A silver chain winked up at Nick from a black velvet cushion—a necklace. Luke pulled it out and held it up. Dangling in the middle was a lone pendant. At first glance, Nick mistook it for a silver dollar, but closer inspection revealed that it was a thin disk stamped with a stylized V, bordered by a ring of intricate designs. When Nick lifted a hand to accept the gift, it weighed heavily in his palm. It felt expensive.

“It’s beautiful,” he stated plainly, not knowing what else to say.

Luke took his shoulders and guided him to stand before a full-length mirror on the wall. Nick didn’t resist as Luke clipped the chain around his neck. The silver pendant glittered against the dark fabric of his robe, and with Luke looming behind him, ghoulishly tall and gripping his shoulders painfully tight, all Nick could think was that it felt like a dog collar. It wasn’t a gift; it was a ball and chain. Any residual dregs of hope he might have had were squashed under its expensive weight.

He opened his mouth to compliment the necklace, but was unable to force any words out. As he struggled to say something—anything—Luke leaned down and whispered, “I know you’re the mole.”

For a second, Nick was sure his heart stopped. He watched his reflecting go pale and start to tremble.

“I’m not,” he choked out. He helplessly repeated, “I’m not. It’s not me, Luke, I could never—”

“You need to understand something about my family, Nick,” Luke said in a dangerously low voice. “I know that, to you, we’re just another batch of shitty mobsters with too much money. But we’re different. It’s not something I expect you to understand, so I won’t bother explaining it, but we’re different in a way no one else is. We have a duty to protect each other—more than most families. We have no one else. It’s us against the world.”

Luke turned Nick around to face him and maintained, “If you leave this house again, my family will snap you off the street before you can hail a cab. They will break you down until there’s nothing left to break, then throw you out like everyone who came before you. You don’t know how complicated our world is, Nick, and you have no idea what lengths we’ll go to to protect ourselves. Keeping you here, keeping you with me. . . it’s the only way you’ll be safe. I need to know that you understand what I’m telling you."

Nick’s lip trembled. He tried to avert his eyes, but Luke gripped his chin to keep him in place, holding his gaze.

“I understand,” Nick whispered at last.

He didn’t understand. He didn’t want to understand. He just wanted to go home.

That answer seemed to be enough for Luke, though, because he relaxed and touched a kiss to Nick’s forehead.

“Good. As long as you’re here, no one can hurt you.”

“No one but me,” was the unspoken catch, but he didn’t voice it aloud. He didn’t need to. He cupped Nick’s face and kissed him deeply, and all Nick could do was stand there and take it.

Luke untied Nick’s robe and pushed it off his shoulders, held him at arm’s length. He thoughtfully recalled, “You didn’t come in the shower earlier, did you?”

“I don’t need to. I don’t think I’m up for that tonight,” Nick mumbled.

“You sure? Because I think I’d like to return the favor.”

Luke guided him to bed and pushed him down onto his back. Nick sucked in a breath as Luke pinned his wrists to the sheets and kissed his neck.

“Luke, stop. Please,” Nick whimpered, his voice wavering.

“You’re one of Firman’s, aren’t you?” Luke mused, his voice muffled against Nick’s skin. “He’s always been a colossal thorn in the ass. Wonder what he’d think if he could see you right now.”

He dropped off the bed, knelt between Nick’s legs, and licked a wet stripe up his inner thigh. He pushed his legs apart, and Nick gasped when he felt Luke’s tongue dip into his taint.

“Stop, Luke, please stop, just stop,” he begged, his voice cracking.

This time, Luke did stop. He stood up and leaned over Nick with narrowed eyes, making him shrink in terror.

“Would you rather be chained up in the basement? It’d be awfully inconvenient for me to have to trek downstairs every time I felt like fucking something. Is that what you want?”

Nick fervently shook his head. Luke cocked an eyebrow and asked, “You’d rather stay here, then?”

Nick gulped and nodded. He cried out when Luke slapped him across the face and snapped, “Fucking say it.”

“I-I want to stay here. I want. . . I want to stay with you.”

“Good. Now shut up and enjoy this. You’re goddamn lucky I give enough of a shit to get you off.”

He ducked back down between Nick’s legs without another word. Nick squirmed and covered his mouth to stifle a sob. After everything Luke had done to him, this somehow felt like the most humiliating thing he’d ever been subjected to. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t admitted his guilt; Luke knew he was a mole. He could only lay there, helpless, as Luke touched him wherever and however he liked.

It was in that moment that the full scope of his situation sank in. For the first time since he’d gone undercover, Nick was truly, indubitably alone.

Infiltration was no longer a priority or an option. The only thing that mattered now was survival.

Chapter Text

Alexander awoke with a terrible migraine. His eyelids felt like they were glued shut. It took a herculean effort to open them—not that it did much good, of course, because he was blindfolded.

He knelt on the ground, leaning back against what felt like a metal pipe. He was secured by heavy chains and fetters, and his limbs were pulled taut, preventing him from falling over.

The worst part of his restraints, he quickly realized, was the muzzle. A thick metal bit was stuffed between his teeth, and his jaw was trapped shut by a wire cage. The whole contraption was secured to his face by tight leather straps.

Despite the immediate indignation at being muzzled and chained like an animal, Alexander didn’t move. He forced himself to relax in a façade of unconsciousness. The cuffs and shackles dug painfully into his skin as he sank his weight into them, but he didn’t want to risk an adjustment until he got a feel for his surroundings.

He could smell other people nearby, warm bodies with the distinct odor of seat. He heard the thumping of boots on a grated floor overhead, along with the clunking of large firearms. He was being guarded. He paid careful attention to the subtle sounds and smells around him, working to estimate the number of guards in the room. He was able to confirm at least four; two on his level, though far from where he was—stationed at exits, perhaps—and two more on a platform high above his head.

Alexander turned his attention inward, running a quick assessment of his body. He was barefoot, wearing only a shirt and slacks, which meant he’d been thoroughly searched. His back hurt and his limbs ached, but nothing felt broken. He’d taken a hard hit to the head, as evidenced by his pounding migraine. If enough time had passed for him to be taken someplace and chained up, then they’d probably drugged him for good measure. All in all, he was sore but functional, although he wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to defend himself if he tried to escape.

He tensed at the sound of a heavy door opening and slamming shut. Loud, deliberate footsteps made their way over to him, stopping no more than a meter away. Alexander quickly recognized the accompanying scent; it was the same one from the paper mill, the same musk that had clung to Nick when he’d snuck out to meet the Endezeichen Grimm.

It was Luke Verosik.

If Alexander didn’t have such expert control over his woge, he would have lunged at Luke in a blind rage. He forced himself not to react, to remain limp.

A foot nudged his knee. He didn’t respond.

He was slapped across the face, and Luke said, “Quit faking. I know you’re awake.”

The blindfold was ripped from his head. Alexander gave up his comatose ruse and blinked up at Luke, squinting under the glow of dim, stuttering lights.

Luke was certainly a sight to behold, tall and lean and beautiful from every angle. Platinum blond hair fell over his shoulders in a sleek curtain, and his fitted black clothing looked appropriately expensive. Alexander was not fazed by that incongruously lovely exterior; all he could visualize was the twisted, soulless filth concealed beneath.

Luke’s lips twisted into a vile smirk, and he declared, “So, you’re the dick Nick’s been bouncing on since he broke things off with that Hexen-bitch. Thanks for keeping him warm for me.”

Alexander’s woge surged to the surface. He lunged forward, straining against the chains and snarling through the muzzle. Luke grabbed his hair and slammed his head back against the metal pipe with startling strength. He crouched down and edged closer until their faces were just a handspan apart. Abyssal black eyes bored into the very core of Alexander’s being, and reflected in those lightless pits was his own snarling visage.

Nick’s Grimm eyes were the first Alexander had ever seen. He could still recall the chill of fear that clutched his soul the first time he’d come face to face with those twin voids. Now, what might have once been fear was nothing but bloodlust.

Yes, Luke was a Grimm. That wouldn’t stop Alexander from tearing out his throat for everything he’d done to Nick.

Luke gleefully chuckled, “I can’t imagine how frustrating this must be for you. I’m right here, right in front of you, and you can’t lay a hand on me.”

Holding Alexander’s hair in an unwavering grip, he leaned in closer and said, “Just like you couldn’t lay a hand on me when I raw dogged your boyfriend.”

Primal rage blotted out rational judgment. Alexander ripped away from Luke’s grasp and lunged at him again. The chains stopped him little more than a hair’s breadth away.

Luke scoffed at his efforts. “Don’t bother. Those chains were built to hold Siegbarste. You really think a Pflichttreue can break out of them? Settle down. I just wanna talk.”

Alexander hated that Luke was right. He could clearly feel that the chains weren’t going anywhere. He forced himself back into his human skin, though he was still seething.

“There’s a good boy,” Luke commended. His smirk widened, and he snidely said, “You’re almost as cooperative as Nick. He stopped by my place today, you know. You should have seen the way he was putting out for me. Oh, wait—that’s exactly what I came to show you!”

Luke pulled a cell phone from his pocket and held it up in front of Alexander’s face. On the screen was a video, and Alexander was forced to watch as it displayed a scene of visceral, drawn-out brutality.

Luke had recorded himself raping Nick in front of a bathroom mirror.

Bile rose to the back of Alexander’s throat. His eyes were glued to the screen; no matter how he tried, he couldn’t make himself look away. He was paralyzed with horror as Nick’s suffering played out before him.

His blood chilled when he heard Nick moan. He knew that sound well enough to know it was a noise of pleasure.

“Hear that?” Luke taunted. "For all his complaining, he had more than his share of fun.”

The misery etched across Nick’s face said otherwise.

“Hate you. . . I h-hate you. . .” he panted, his voice tinny and small in the recording.

The video went on, running agonizingly, impossibly long. Eventually, Nick’s jaw dropped, and his eyes rolled back. His body seized, and a single gasping word fell from his lips:

“Alexander. . .”

He’d just climaxed. That look of sensual euphoria was unmistakable to Alexander, who’d seen it enough times to have memorized every subtle twitch. Afterward, Nick lay limp on the bathroom counter, bent prone against its surface while Luke continued his vicious thrusting. Alexander was forced to watch until Luke hit his peak as well, plunging deep inside Nick with a groan. The video mercifully ended, and Luke pocketed his phone.

“Well?” he prompted, as if expecting Alexander to offer a rating and review. “What do you think? It’s a little rusty, but in my defense, I’ve only recorded home porn a few times.”

He sidled closer, cocked his head, and asked in a colder, crueler tone, “How did it feel to watch another man take a turn with him? It was nice and rough, too, just the way he likes it. How did it feel to watch him moan on someone else’s dick? Does he moan like that for you? I’ll bet he does. You wouldn’t guess it by looking at him, but he’s probably the sluttiest guy you’ll ever meet.”

Alexander’s eyes flashed Pflichttreue green, but he didn’t woge. He just stared at Luke, his glare promising murder.

Luke stood and moved away, snorting at Alexander’s menacing stare. “I’ve had more fun this week than I’ve had in fifteen years. I was hoping to play catch-and-release with him a little while longer, but he and his friends are starting to get uppity, so I might have to cut our game short. A shame, isn’t it? I like watching him break down. But once I bring him back home. . . I’ll have all the time in the world to play with him.

Luke bent down, looked Alexander right in the eye, and gloated, “He’s going to watch you die—slowly. Then I’m going to pick him apart, piece by piece, over and over. I’ll kill him one day, but not until there’s nothing left to kill.”

Luke straightened, and his lips pulled back from his teeth in a vicious smile. He laughed, low and sadistic, and turned his back on Alexander, sweeping from the room with his coat flaring out behind him. He slammed the door shut, and Alexander was left with nothing to do but contemplate his own dread for what was to come.

*****

The elevator gate rolled upward, and Eve walked stiffly into Nick’s loft. Her head swiveled to take in the destructive scene; the kitchen table was in pieces on the floor, several ceiling lights had exploded, and the door to the roof had been blown inward off its hinges. A pigeon had flown inside and was squatting in the beginnings of a nest on the kitchen counter.

“Nick?” Eve called, taking a few steps further in. Upon receiving no response, she tilted her head and stretched out her magic to search where she couldn’t see.

It didn’t take long to find him. Her senses curled around his familiar shape, huddled alone beneath the loft. He was in the tunnel.

Eve pivoted on her heel and strode to the kitchen. The lock on the tunnel door was already unlatched; she pulled it open with her magic as she approached. She swung a leg over the frame and descended the ladder. When she reached the bottom, she spied the glow of a lamp around the corner of the long passage.

She could feel him there, just beyond her line of sight, but as she drew closer, she halted and reeled back with a sharp breath. She hadn’t yet laid eyes on him, but she could feel roiling torrents of pain, grief, and anger. That violent hurricane of emotion evoked a tremor within her, something that might have once been fear. Nevertheless, she steeled herself and pressed onward. She rounded the corner to find Nick huddled on the ground beside one of the tunnel lamps, hugging his knees to his chest and staring sightlessly ahead. He didn’t look up as Eve knelt beside him.

“Nick,” she said softly.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, barely acknowledging her presence. “I don’t—I don’t know if I can beat him.”

“You can. We can,” Eve stated firmly, shifting to kneel directly in front of him. His eyes slowly lifted to her face, and she informed him, “That’s why I’m here. Monroe and Rosalee called to tell us what’s happening. Trubel’s running a mission in Venezuela, but she’s coming back to the States as soon as she can.”

“I don’t know if that’ll be enough. You don’t know him. If I try to stop him, he’ll—”

“He won’t do anything.”

“But—”

“HW is moving Monroe, Rosalee, Adalind, and the kids to a safe house as we speak. They’ll be guarded 24/7 until Luke is dealt with. Hank, Wu, and Renard are waiting to regroup with us at the precinct.”

Nick’s head dropped onto his knees. His shoulders shook and his breath hitched. Eve blinked, taken aback. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Nick cry—not since she was Juliette. Her senses told her that these weren’t tears of relief; it was just deeper despair.

After a beat of hesitation, she reiterated, “They’re safe, Nick. He can’t hurt them.”

“I know, and I’m glad. I am. But Eve, I. . . a few months ago. . .” Nick lifted his head to look her in the eye. He opened his mouth, shut it, and at last said, “I found someone.”

“Oh,” was all Eve could say. A familiar sadness crept into her heart, one that resurfaced whenever she thought about Nick. She sensed how difficult it was for him to admit this to her, however, so she stayed quiet while he continued.

“I found someone who makes me feel strong and safe and. . . and loved.” Nick drew a trembling breath and went on, “But I didn’t tell anyone, not even Monroe or Rosalee, because I don’t want them to look at me any differently than they do now. I don’t want to push them away, because my life is so much better with them in it. And by keeping it secret, I somehow thought I could make it last without ruining it, and I would never not have someone to come home to, and. . . and. . .”

His voice broke. Eve moved to his side and wrapped a comforting arm around him.

“Why do you think you would push any of us away?” she asked. “We’re your friends. We all care about you. Nothing will ever change that.”

“I know. I just. . .”

Nick shook his head and leaned back against the tunnel wall with a shaky sigh.

Eve was quiet for a few seconds. Giving him a nudge of encouragement, she prompted, “What’s her name?”

“His name. . . is Alexander.”

So that was the root of his fears. Eve opened her mouth to assure him that not one person in their group would think less of him for dating a man, but the mention of his partner’s name suddenly jogged her memory.

When he said he was with someone named Alexander, could he possibly mean. . .

No. There was no way. It had to be a different Alexander; it wasn’t an uncommon name. She chided herself for entertaining the possibility for even a second.

Nick looked over at her with tortured eyes and said, “Luke took him.”

“Then we’ll get him back.”

“We can’t. I don’t know where he is, or if he’s even alive. Luke said he was, but I don’t know if he’s telling the truth or just trying to fuck with my head. Eve, I. . .” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I can’t lose him.”

“You won’t. Listen to me,” Eve said firmly, framing his face with her hands. “You won’t lose him. I won’t let that happen. But if we’re going to save him, we need to regroup and figure out a way to stop Luke.”

“Okay. Okay.” Nick nodded wearily, unfolding from his hunched ball of misery. Eve offered a hug, and he gratefully accepted it.

“You’re not alone. You will never be alone,” she murmured.

Nick buried his face in her hair and cried quietly, unable to say anything more.

They held each other in the dark for a long time, until Eve broke away, hauled Nick to his feet, and led him out of the tunnel. As they left, she silently vowed to him and herself that she wouldn’t let Alexander die, no matter what it took.

*****

“Relax, Saul, I’ve got the situation under control. Sure, I’ve been taking a few. . . liberties, but you’re not the only one who’s got beef with him.”

Luke was only half-paying attention to the call as he squeezed a drop of Koschie-Flüssig into each eye. This was the second dose he’d had to take after Nick’s outburst. He’d hoped one would be enough to clear up the damage, but faint bruises were still visible under his foundation, and his nose had a noticeable crook.

Luke swore under his breath and blinked his eyes hard, resisting the urge to wipe them with a towel. Koschie-Flüssig was a God-given miracle, but it burned like a motherfucker.

“We had an agreement, Luthor.”

Luke’s eye twitched, and he tapped his fingernails irritably on the sink counter. He could count on his fingers the number of people who knew him by that name. He always hated hearing it.

“And that agreement will be fulfilled,” he assured Saul through gritted teeth.

“You’re toying with him.”

“I’m just—”

“You’re stalling.”

“I am not stalling. I’m enjoying some quality time with an old flame. We haven’t seen each other in fifteen years, you know.”

“We agreed—”

“We agreed that I’m going to bring him back to New York for you, and Michael will pick him up from there. Relax, our deal hasn’t changed. I’m just taking the opportunity for a little R & R. I don’t get a lot of vacation time these days.”

Luke walked to his desk, poured himself a glass of wine—a rare and expensive vintage—and carried it to a nearby window, which offered an attractive view of Portland’s skyline.

“You are trying our patience, Luthor. We reached out to the Verosik family for a reason.”

“I get that. You’ll have him,” Luke said, trying not to sound too snappish. He checked his watch and added, “I can nab him tonight. I roughed him up a bit earlier today, so I doubt he’ll put up much of a fight.”

“Don’t underestimate him. We’ve all heard the stories.”

“In my experience, Saul, most fairy tales about local heroes are just that: fairy tales. Especially in this day and age.”

Saul was silent for several long seconds. When he spoke, he somehow managed to sound more cryptic than usual.

“Take caution, Luthor.”

Luke hung up and tossed his phone onto his desk with an irritated huff. His father—may he burn in Hell—was the only person who’d ever insisted on calling him Luthor. That same subtle condescension was what Luke hated most about Saul and his family of fanatics.

Luke took another swig of wine, set his glass on the desk, and returned to the window. Portland wasn’t a bad locale. He really was thinking about getting a summer home here. He could work remotely, frightening the local Wesen in his downtime. He vaguely recalled a few Portland gangs that were connected to the syndicate, so maybe he could pop in with them in person, give them a good scare. He would probably keep that cute little spice and tea shop around for the sake of convenience; maybe he could even bring them into the loop by having them distribute smaller goods.

As Luke massaged a cramp in his neck, his thoughts turned once again to Nick’s outburst. He truly hadn’t expected it, which was how Nick had so easily gained the upper hand. Where had that fire come from? Luke was sure he’d snuffed it out. He was sure he’d fucked Nick into submission. Fifteen years ago, Nick wouldn’t have dared raise a hand to him, but apparently Grimms didn’t break as easily as Kehrseite.

He never should have let Nick leave Brooklyn.

As much as Luke was enjoying their little back-and-forth, all good things had to end eventually. Still, he suspected he had not seen the last of Nick’s defiance.

A knock at the door pulled him out of his brooding. Without leaving his spot by the window, he called, “Come in.”

“We have an update on Burkhardt, sir.”

“Talk to me.”

“It’s his Wesen allies.”

“What about them?”

Luke could hear his own uncertainty, and the guard no doubt could as well. He silently cussed himself out for letting his composure crack. He was a Grimm. He wasn’t supposed to feel things like doubt; he wasn’t supposed to show it, at the very least. That was one of the few worthwhile lessons his father had taught him, but to this day, he struggled with it more than any of his relatives. Even Danica, thirteen years his junior and constantly rolling on a cocktail of drugs, had a better grip on her emotions.

Luke detected a waver of fear in the guard’s voice as the man reported, “They were collectively moved by Hadrian’s Wall. We don’t know where to. Allegedly, a Hexenbiest was involved.”

“Ain’t that a bitch?” Luke grumbled.

The alleged Hexenbiest had to be Eve, formerly Juliette Silverton—one of the Wesen who Nick had whored himself out to. Sure, she hadn’t started out a Hexenbiest, but that didn’t soothe the flare of resentment in Luke’s heart.

Two Hexenbiests and a Pflichttreue. He’d probably fucked that half-Zauberbiest at some point, as well. That was undoubtedly how he’d been promoted to full-time detective.

“He really has no respect for what he is,” Luke murmured.

It was all too easy to picture Nick in a threesome with the Blutbad-Fuchsbau couple. That was probably how he’d secured their loyalty.

“Sir?”

Luke had almost forgotten the guard was there. He drained his glass and crossed the room to grab his coat.

“Tell Julius to start the car. I need to find some new hostages.”

*****

Bud poured himself, John, and Arnold each a glass of water, but his hands shook so badly that he sloshed more water onto the table than into the cups. He’d offered beer as a courtesy when they’d arrived, but they all agreed that they wanted to keep their senses sharp, even if one of those senses was unabashed terror.

“And then what? He just walked out?” John exclaimed in disbelief, accepting his water glass with equally trembling hands.

“Yes! He didn’t try to break anything or kill us, but he didn’t back off when he said we were going to call the police.”

“Oh, gosh. This is bad. This is really bad,” Arnold whimpered, clutching his water glass like a stress toy.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Bud huffed, peeking anxiously between the curtains of his living room window. “That first guy, the Lebensauger, he was bad, but this guy—he wasn’t a raver like the first one, but if you ask me, he’s on a whole other level of bonkers.”

“But how does Nick know him? They’re not related, are they?” John asked.

“No, they’re not related,” Bud snipped, throwing his hands up in agitation. “Look, all I know is that Nick has some kind of personal beef with him. I don’t know any more details than that.”

“But Nick can beat him, right?”

John looked at Bud hopefully, and Arnold perked up as well.

Bud snorted and replied, “Of course he can. He’s a Grimm.”

“But. . . Luke is a Grimm, too,” Arnold reminded him.

An uncomfortable quiet settled over the room. John and Arnold stared at Bud, awaiting further reassurance. Bud opened his mouth to insist that Nick could take Luke on easily, but a flicker of doubt crossed his mind, making the words stick on the tip of his tongue.

John shuddered. “I don’t want to be anywhere near that fight when it goes down.”

“Tell me about it,” Arnold agreed.

Bud flapped his hands and interjected, “Nick’s a cop, remember? It’s not like he’d be going into that alone. He won’t lose this, guys. He hasn’t lost yet, and he won’t lose now.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door that made all three Eisbibers jump with fright.

“It’s probably Nick,” Bud said after a beat of hesitation. “He might have an update.”

He skittered to the front door, unlocked it, and cracked it open just enough to peek outside. Standing on the porch was Luke Verosik, smiling pleasantly down at him.

“Hi, there! Got a minute?”

Bud slammed the door and braced his back against it, stretching his arms across the frame. He woged, inadvertently triggering John and Arnold to do the same.

“What’s wrong? Who is it?” John hissed.

“It’s him!” Bud squeaked. “It’s Luke!”

They all fell silent when Luke called, “If this door isn’t open in the next ten seconds, I’m breaking it down.”

Bud cast a helpless look at his friends, who were both backed into the far corner of the living room. Arnold fiercely whispered, “Well, don’t let him in!”

“Five seconds, Eisbiber.”

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Bud said gravely. Ignoring their protests, he reluctantly unlocked the door, then darted away to join John and Arnold in the corner.

The door creaked open, and Luke ducked under the frame. He towered menacingly in his heeled boots, idly stroking a lock of hair as he studied Bud’s house. After a moment, he turned to the three Eisbibers with an apologetic smile.

“I know this visit must come as a bit of a surprise. Believe me, it wasn’t my first call, but I figured you’d be the easiest to handle.”

“W-What do you mean?” Bud stammered. “What do you want? Are you—you’re not—are you gonna kill us?”

“What? No, of course not! Why would I do that?” Luke said as, to their horror, he pulled a handgun from within his coat and twisted a silencer onto the barrel. As he worked, he calmly explained, “I just need some new hostages. I had some other ones, but unfortunately, they’re no longer available, so I am going to ask you to come with me.”

“But I-I’m sure you can find other hostages. B-Better hostages, right? I mean, anyone else would be better than a few old Eisbibers,” John edged.

“Probably. Honestly, I could pick some random asshole off the street, and Nick would still come running to their rescue, but like I said, I figured you’d be the most cooperative. Anyway, I was just planning to pick up Wurstner, but since you two are here, you might as well come along.”

When Luke finished prepping his gun, he pointed it at them, nodded to the front door, and said, “Chop, chop, boys. I’m on the clock.”

The Eisbibers held a silent debate. John and Arnold started to walk resignedly forward, but Bud grabbed them and held them back.

“W-We’re not afraid of you!” he said bravely.

Luke raised an eyebrow.

Bud puffed up and went on, “Nick is our friend, and he’s not going to let you hurt anyone else. You’re just a—a dick! And you think you can just push everyone around! But—”

Looking supremely unimpressed, Luke aimed the gun and shot Arnold in the leg. Arnold screamed and fell to his knees, clutching the wound. Bravery forgotten, Bud and John cried out and dropped to his side.

“That’s cute, honey, but I don’t need all three of you. That being said, my therapist told me to do something generous every day, so I’m happy to let you all live. I’ll even let you go free afterwards, assuming Nick behaves. So, how about it? Am I taking three hostages, or two?”

“No, we’ll go. Please, just. . . just don’t hurt us.”

“Attaboy,” Luke said with a grin. He gestured the gun at Arnold and instructed, “Get him on his feet. Car’s outside.”

*****

Alexander had been trying for the last hour to wrest his hands free, but his efforts proved fruitless. The chains weren’t going anywhere unless Luke decided otherwise.

He tensed and whipped his head toward the door when he heard the locks click. His eyes widened at the sight of Luke entering with three trembling men in tow. One had an injured leg and was being supported on either side by the other two.

“Secure them,” Luke commanded to a guard. “They don’t need chains; rope will be fine. Just make sure you keep a set of eyes on ‘em.”

The guards sat the three prisoners on the floor and tied their hands to a railing above their heads. They didn’t resist, but one of them—a small, paunchy, balding one—met Alexander’s wary gaze. He waited until Luke turned his back, then started making strange, contorted faces. Alexander assumed it was meant to be some sort of signal pattern, but he had no idea what those faces could convey other than constipation or a stroke. He just frowned and shook his head.

The paunchy man glanced nervously at Luke, who was busy directing a group of guards. When he seemed certain the Grimm wasn’t watching, he woged, revealing himself to be an Eisbiber.

Alexander hesitated, then responded with his own woge. He displayed his Pflichttreue skin for only a few seconds before woging back and nodding at Luke in a pointed warning gesture. The Eisbiber returned to his human skin as well, and although he was still afraid, he seemed to find comfort in Alexander’s silent solidarity.

All eyes turned to Luke when he lifted his phone to his ear and offered a friendly greeting.

“Hey, babe, it’s me. How’re you holding up?”

Alexander strained his ears to listen, but was unable to hear the other side of the conversation. Luke strolled over to the three new prisoners (Alexander assumed the other two were Eisbibers as well) and nudged the wounded one with his foot. “Uh-huh, that’s nice, honey. Shut up for a second, I’ve got something you’ll want to hear.”

A villainous smirk crossed his lips, and he said, “I know that Hexenbiest cunt has your friends. You took away my hostages, so I went out and found some substitutes. Gotta say, Nick, you’re the only Grimm I know who wastes his time with Eisbibers.”

Nick’s response made Luke roll his eyes. He put the phone on speaker and lowered it to the paunchy Eisbiber’s face, saying, “It’s Nick. He wants confirmation that you’re alive.”

The Eisbiber gulped, leaned forward, and said with a tremor in his voice, “Nick, it’s me. It’s Bud. Arnold and John are with me. You’ve gotta help us, please, this guy’s crazy, he’s—”

Luke took the phone away before he could say more.

“There you go. All three of them, alive and unharmed.” He glanced at the injured Eisbiber and amended, “For the most part.”

He paused, listening to Nick, then threw a smirk at Alexander and said, “Sorry, babe, he can’t talk right now, but I can send you a proof-of-life pic. Or, better yet, you can come see him yourself. You know that old mill where I picked you up the other night? If you come now—and come alone—we can work things out civilly, and I’ll let your pets go. But I’m warning you, Nick: if you try anything, I’ll kill the four of them and leave their heads for you to find. No more games. See you soon, baby.”

He hung up and pocketed his phone with a vile grin. Then he strode over to Alexander and, without warning, punched him in the face.

Alexander grunted as his head was jolted to the side. The Eisbibers cried out in alarm. Alexander had no time to recover before Luke grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanked his head up, and slammed a knee into his nose. Alexander felt it break under the impact. Between the tight muzzle and the ensuing gush of blood, he struggled to breathe. A sharp kick caught him in the stomach, and he doubled over with a wheeze, only to receive another knee to the face.

Luke gripped his hair and shoved his head up against the pipe. Before Alexander could register what was happening, Luke pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of his bloodied face. He released him, and Alexander slumped down with a groan, held upright only by the chains.

“Sorry, hon, but I can’t string Nick along forever. He’s probably doubting I haven’t killed you yet. This is just for confirmation purposes,” Luke explained rationally.

Alexander glared up at him. Luke gave him an affectionate pat on the head and crooned, “Aw, don’t look like that, kitten. He’d come for you whether he thought you were alive or dead, but this’ll be a good reminder. I’ll bet he’s just dying to see you again.”

Luke strode from the room, cackling triumphantly to himself. Alexander leaned back against the pipe and shut his eyes, praying that Nick and his friends had a plan.

*****

“You can’t go there by yourself, Nick,” Eve argued, tailing Nick across the garage.

“I don’t have a choice. If I don’t do what he says, he’ll kill them all.”

Nick opened the garage door and climbed into his car, but Eve telekinetically rolled the window down and fixed him with her usual intense stare.

“Nick, if you go to that steel mill tonight, he will kill you.”

“Not if I kill him first,” Nick said with a humorless smile.

Eve was not amused. When Nick tried to turn over the engine, it chugged and died. He gritted his teeth and glared at her.

“Give me one other option,” he demanded, looking her right in the eye. “Any other option. I can’t let Alexander die. I can’t let Bud and his friends die. As long as Luke has them, I can’t afford to not do what he says. I have to go, Eve.”

“I’m not letting you go to your death,” she insisted stubbornly.

Nick mulled over potential arguments in his head, searching for anything he could use to convince her. She wouldn’t budge without a plan to get him safely away from Luke. An idea occurred to him, and he faced her with a deep, patient breath.

“Thirty minutes,” he proposed. Eve’s stalwart face didn’t change, but he pressed, “Give me half an hour to get there and negotiate with him. Then you can regroup with Hank, Wu, and Renard, and have them bring all available units to the mill.”

“If we wait that long, you’ll be dead by the time we get there.”

“If you move to soon, one of his moles will tip him off, and he’ll realize I’ve got backup coming. I need enough of a head start to keep him occupied. If we can time this right—if we can corner him without getting anyone else killed—we might be able to take him down.”

“He could kill you, Nick.”

“I could kill him.”

“You could kill each other.”

“I know.”

They faced off for a long minute. Nick kept his expression fixed, but in his head, he was ticking away the passing seconds. The longer he sat there with Eve, the more likely it became that he would find four severed heads waiting for him at the mill.

Finally, Eve took a slow step away from the car, and the engine sputtered to life.

“Thirty minutes,” she relented.

“Thank you,” Nick breathed, relief rushing through him. He reversed out of the garage and sped away from the loft. Eve stood in place like a statue, watching him go. As soon as his car was out of sight, her silent countdown began.

Chapter Text

Nick sat in bed with his legs tucked against his chest and his chin resting on his knees, watching Luke putter frenetically around the room. Luke darted to the bathroom to check his makeup, rushed to the closet for a new tie, studied his hair in the full-length mirror, then went back to the bathroom as if he’d forgotten he had touched up his makeup a minute ago.

He’d been stressing over a family gathering all morning. He didn’t offer details on the event, and Nick, not being involved, didn’t care enough to ask.

“Alright, I think that’s good enough,” Luke muttered as he buttoned his vest and straightened his tie.

“Cufflinks,” Nick reminded him.

“Shit. Cufflinks.”

Back to the closet. As he rummaged through the drawers, Nick suggested, “Couldn’t you just skip it? You’ve ditched family events before. If it’s just a brunch—”

“It’s not just a brunch.”

Nick flinched, and an automatic “Sorry” slipped out.

Luke didn’t notice. He snatched a pair of cufflinks and explained without missing a beat, “It’s a reunion. I’ve got relatives all over the world, and the entire clan is coming today. Bunch of conniving blond pricks packed into one shitty restaurant.”

“What’s the restaurant?” Nick asked, only half-paying attention as he picked at his fingernails.

“Some café called Golden Steam. They’re famous for their shitty coffee. They mostly do party breakfasts and brunches. I think it sucks, but my Aunt Carol likes it, so my Uncle Frank rented out the whole place for the day. It’s one of the classier joints in Manhattan, so you might not know it.”

“I know it. I’ve only been a few times, though,” Nick recalled. When he’d first moved to Brooklyn, he’d briefly dated a woman named Corie whose favorite place was the Golden Steam. He knew the address by heart.

That seemed so long ago now. Everything before the last six months—everything before Luke—felt like another lifetime.

Nostalgia drove Nick to suggest, “I can go with you, if you want.”

“No can do, babe. Verosiks only. How do I look?”

Nick slid out of bed and walked over. He tucked in Luke’s collar, then looked him up and down with playful scrutiny.

“No heels?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Luke rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Not today. My old man told me to dress ‘decent’. By which, of course, he means straight.”

“Hence the eyeliner.”

Luke chuckled and kissed Nick’s hand. Nick managed a tiny smile.

“I’m leaving Tanidev here today. I’ll text him when I’m on my way back, and he’ll let you know to get ready.” With a smirk, Luke added, “I want you to have enough time to prep in advance. Knowing myself, I’ll be needing to unwind afterwards.”

“Will do. I’ll be right here.”

As Nick toyed with the buttons on Luke’s shirt, Luke checked his watch and said, “I’ve gotta go, babe. I have to swing by Alyssa’s place. She’s still looking for a new driver, so I’m giving her a ride. She’s an evil bitch, but she’s definitely one of my more tolerable relatives.”

“Okay. Good luck today.”

“Thanks, honey. Talk to Tanidev if you need anything.”

“Okay. Thank you, Luke.”

Luke swept out of the room in his usual dramatic fashion. Tanidev swiftly replaced him, stepping inside and shutting the door. He had an unusually anxious air about him, but Nick didn’t think much of it. He returned to the bed and pulled the covers back. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, so he was hoping to use this time to nap.

Before he could get back into bed, a heavy hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Nick shrank at the sight of Tanidev standing over him, his eyes ablaze with an uncharacteristic intensity.

“Where did he go?” Tanidev demanded. His voice was rough, urgent. Nick automatically flinched.

“What do you mean?”

“Luke. Where did he go?”

“Some family reunion.”

“I know about the reunion!” Tanidev snapped, making Nick flinch again. Tanidev took a breath and said in a steadier voice, “Where is it happening?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“He didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t take any guards with him. Where is it happening?”

“The Golden Steam. It’s a coffee place in West Village.”

“Did he tell you the address?”

“No, but I know where it is,” Nick said slowly.

He recited the address, and Tanidev yanked his phone from his pocket. He dialed a number, waited in impatient silence for a few rings, and then spoke.

“I got the address for the reunion. We can finish this today,” he stated. A tinny voice piped up on the other end, but Nick didn’t catch their words. Tanidev glanced back at him and asked, “When is it?”

Nick quickly stammered, “Uh, it’s—he just left, so I guess it’s right now. He’s picking up Alyssa and going straight there.”

Tanidev repeated the information into the phone, along with the address of the Golden Steam. Nick just stood by the bed, staring at him, unable to comprehend what was happening.

Was this a trick of some kind? Had Luke ordered Tanidev to set Nick up, to catch him in a lie? It wouldn’t be the first time.

Less than four months prior—not long after their brief breakup—Luke had ordered Jameson to do that very thing. Blinded by hope and desperation, Nick had fallen right into his trap. He’d followed Jameson all the way to the front door before the guard revealed it was a ruse. Nick had spent the next two nights in darkness, locked in one of the basement cells. A week later, Luke put Henley up to the same task. Nick didn’t fall for it that time.

But why now? Ever since then, Nick had been loyal and obedient. They had a few hiccups here and there, but for the most part, he did what he was told.

He ran through a mental list of every independent action he’d taken in the last week, but couldn’t think of anything more extreme than visiting Luke’s library or taking a walk through the gardens. Luke hit him once in a while, and some days the sex was one-sided, but Nick had been good. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

As soon as Tanidev hung up, Nick blurted, “I haven’t done anything. I’m not leaking anything. I’m not—”

“Stop,” Tanidev interrupted, striding forward and planting his hands on Nick’s shoulders. He glanced at the bedroom door, then leaned in and said in a fast, hushed voice, “I was strictly ordered not to tell you this, but I’m Agent Wayne Tanidev. I’m FBI. You’re safe with me.”

Nick gaped up at him. He replayed the words in his head, but they didn’t quite sink in. Was this real? Was Tanidev telling the truth? No, he couldn’t be. It had to be another trick.

“I don’t want to leave. I’m happy here,” he said mechanically. “I’m happy with Luke. I would never leave him. He knows that. You can tell him—”

“You’re a cop. Your captain, Andrew Firman, wiped your record so you would pass the background check. He and Sergeant Thomas Hackle set up Elouise Mitchel as your liaison to the police. Four months ago, you gave a flash drive full of information to Ronald Goreson, a smuggler contracted by the FBI. Maybe you don’t remember, but I was on duty that day. I helped him get into the house.”

Firman, Hackle, Elouise, Ron. The revelation came crashing down on Nick, and he plunked down on the bed, the air leaving his lungs in one heavy exhale.

“But. . . but you. . .” He couldn’t ignore the pang of hurt in his heart as he looked up at Tanidev and whispered, “The whole time?”

“I promise I’ll answer any questions you have, but right now, you need to do exactly as I say,” Tanidev directed. He knelt down, looked Nick in the eye, and succinctly said, “I have to leave.”

Nick panicked at that. He grasped Tanidev’s lapels and pleaded, “No, you can’t leave me now, I can’t—”

“Let me finish. I just got off the phone with my boss. We’re going to move against the Verosiks, and she wants me there for it. We knew the reunion was coming, we just didn’t know when or where. We’ve been collaborating with your precinct since you were brought on board, so I’m sure Firman will come up with a plan. He’s a quick thinker. As soon as I leave here, I want you to get dressed and make a pack. You’re going to get a blanket and some water, then take the tunnel.”

“Tunnel? What tunnel?”

“Here.”

Tanidev walked Nick across the room, where he reached behind a dresser and triggered a hidden switch. A square door frame cracked open in the wall, and Tanidev pushed it inward. A narrow, rusty ladder descended into a dank tunnel.

A distant memory sparked, and Nick recalled, “Luke mentioned this once. Didn’t he catch Ron at the end?”

“You’re not going to the end. When you get down there, you’re going to take two lefts, two rights, and another left. When you turn the corner at the final left, there’s a hole in the wall. It leads to an old storage room. The door was officially bricked up years ago, so I don’t think Luke knows it’s still accessible. It’s small, but you should fit. Once you’re in there, I want you to sit tight and wait for me. I’ll come get you as soon as I can, but it could be a while—a couple of days, worst case scenario, which is why you need to bring a pack. Repeat that back to me.”

“Water and a blanket. Two lefts, two rights, one more left. Hole in the wall, and I wait for you inside,” Nick echoed.

“Good.” Tanidev looked him in the eye and said, “I’m getting you out of here. Can you trust me on that?”

“Yes,” Nick whispered. “I trust you.”

“Good. I’ll come back as soon as I can. Just hang in there a little longer.”

In the blink of an eye, Tanidev was gone. Nick shook himself out of his shock and turned around just in time to see Tanidev striding from the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Nick was alone. He stood in place for a minute, swaying under the weight of the bombshell that had just been dropped on him.

Was Tanidev telling the truth? Had he been undercover this whole time? He’d referenced confidential details, but it was common knowledge among Luke’s staff that Nick had started out as a mole. Tanidev could very well have pulled that entire speech out of his ass.

If Nick hid where Tanidev told him to, he would be cornered, vulnerable. When Luke caught him, he would drag him back down to the basement, or worse.

It was far too good to be true. Nick wasn’t allowed to leave the manor under any circumstances. If he stayed put, Luke would find him there when he came home, and he would know that Nick wasn’t going behind his back. He would know that Nick was still loyal.

But. . .

There it was. The inevitable “but.”

When Tanidev looked him in the eye and promised he would come back for him, Nick’s very first instinct had been to believe him. He didn’t even hesitate when Tanidev asked for his trust.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but in some elusive way, Tanidev was different. He wasn’t like the other guards. If real help was going to come from any of them, it would be him. Nick was taking a tremendous leap of faith, but the more he thought about it, the more he believed Tanidev was telling the truth.

After a few minutes shuffling around in aimless confusion, Nick finally kicked himself into gear. From Luke’s desk, he grabbed a jar that had been repurposed as a penholder, rinsed it in the bathroom sink, and filled it to the brim with water. A bottle would have been preferable, but it had a tight lid, so it was better than nothing. Next, he grabbed a throw blanket from the couch and bundled it around the jar. Finally, he snatched a purse from the closet and stuffed his meager supplies inside.

He was wearing his usual fare of underwear and a shirt, so he stole a pair of Luke’s slacks. They were too big, so he rolled up the cuffs and grabbed a belt. Lastly, he tugged on his sneakers and his favorite ACDC hoodie. They were the only articles of clothing he still had that were his own; Luke had been buying him new ones or sharing his own for months.

Taking a moment to steady his nerves, Nick yanked his hood up, grabbed his purse of supplies, and limped to the tunnel. He swung a leg over the edge, wincing at the fresh ache the movement sparked in his hip. Straddling the small door frame, he lifted his purse and, after a beat of hesitation, dropped it to the tunnel floor. It landed with a soft thump far below. He exhaled in relief when he didn’t hear his jar of water break.

A part of him shrieked to give up, to crawl back into bed, to wait for Luke and confess everything, because this couldn’t possibly work. If he was caught trying to leave again, he would be killed, or worse. And with Luke, it could always be worse.

But he wasn’t trying to leave on his own this time. All he had to do was hide, and Tanidev would come find him. If Tanidev was telling the truth—and Nick’s gut said he was—then that morning would be the last time Luke ever touched him.

A long-dormant inkling of hope sparked to life. The idea of freedom sent a joyful thrill up Nick’s spine.

He was leaving the manor. He was leaving Luke. For good.

“Where are you going, Nick?”

Nick froze, one foot on the top rung of the ladder. Slowly, dread building in his gut, he turned around.

Luke stood in the doorway, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Dark spots of blood splattered his clothes and hair, and when Nick looked closer, he spied a near imperceptible tremor in his hands.

“What happened?” he asked cautiously.

“As if you don’t already know,” Luke scoffed. When Nick didn’t respond, he swallowed and said, “The police and the feds hit the Golden Steam at the same time. The shooting started when I arrived. If I’d been in the building, I wouldn’t have made it out.”

He paused, then added with a humorless chuckle, “Although I guess staying in the car wasn’t a surefire escape, either. Alyssa was sitting right next to me, and she had her head blown open as we were driving away.”

Nick silently debated his options. Luke had caught him red-handed trying to sneak into the tunnel, so playing innocent wasn’t in the cards. He could make a break for the hidden cubby Tanidev had told him about, but he was sore and emaciated, and Luke was fast. There was no way he would win that race, even with a head start. He could stay in the bedroom and try to hold his ground, but his chances of beating Luke in a fight were about as good as his chances of outrunning him.

Tanidev had been telling the truth—Nick was sure of it now—but he was still cornered. His only hope was the possibility that the police had seen Luke escape and were tracking him back home.

“Was any of it ever real? Even one second of it?” Luke whispered. His voice wavered, and his face cracked with genuine hurt.

“I don’t know.” The words slipped out before Nick could stop them, but he sensed that there was no maneuvering out of this. He moved away from the tunnel and planted both feet on the floor, facing Luke. After a moment of honest thought, he said, “There were times when it was easier to pretend. I can admit that much. But I was never here for you. At the start of it all, I was here because it was my job. When that wasn’t an option anymore, I did what I had to do to survive.”

The response sent Luke staggering back a step as if he’d been hit. Nick broke down the mental dam he’d built to hold back his hate, and he put every ounce of contempt he could muster into his voice as he spat, “I never loved you. I never felt good about lying to you the way I did, but from the moment I met you, I hated you. Every time you hurt me, every time you touched me, every time you said my name. . . it only made me hate you more.”

He grabbed his silver V pendant and ripped it off his neck. The clasp pinched his skin with a painful sting as it popped open. His newfound confidence growing, he flung the necklace spitefully at Luke’s feet.

Luke stared dully down at the pendant as Nick lifted his chin and finished, “I don’t love you. I have never loved you. And your family is dead because of you.”

That last blow was a low one, but Nick was fresh out of fucks to give. Fessing up to his deceit felt like the most liberating thing he’d ever done. Whatever happened now, he was done holding back. He was done surviving.

That brave front cracked when Luke charged, moving faster than Nick’s eyes could track. Nick desperately leapt for the tunnel, but Luke slammed into him, tackling him to the floor. Nick screamed and thrashed, but Luke grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, poised over top of him with frightening intensity.

“You die here and now, you pathetic whore,” he hissed.

Nick ground his jaw and spat a mouthful of saliva into Luke’s face. Luke reeled back with a noise of disgust, and Nick jerked a knee up into his groin as hard as he could. Luke doubled over with a yell of pain, and his grip slackened. Nick wrenched his hands free and smacked the heel of his palm into Luke’s nose. He felt cartilage give way with a satisfying crunch. He wasted no time flipping over and crawling away.

When he tried to rise, a hand grabbed his ankle and yanked him back down. He collapsed flat to the floor with a grunt. Before he could move to defend himself, Luke was on top of him again, crushing him into the carpet.

“On second thought, maybe I’ll fuck you one last time. For the sake of closure, yeah?”

Then Luke’s hands were on his hips, ripping at his belt and sliding under his waistband. Nick shrieked and bucked, trying desperately to unseat him, but he was easily overpowered. With one hand, Luke slammed his head down against the floor, pinning him in place. Nick scrabbled at his fingers, screaming for help, hoping beyond hope that someone would hear him.

He was so close. He couldn’t lose now. He couldn’t go through this again.

Just as his pants were coming down, Luke’s weight disappeared, and there was a flurry of snarling and crashing. Nick dragged himself a few feet across the floor, then turned over to see what had happened.

His eyes bulged and his jaw dropped when he saw a monster standing in the middle of the room, poised between him and Luke.

It wore a suit, but it was far from human. Speckled white fur covered its body, and gold-green eyes gleamed down at Nick from a feline face. Nick gasped and scrambled backwards until he hit the desk. The creature just stared down at him, clawed hands outstretched, tufted ears twitching.

Nick had eyes only for the monster in front of him, so he hardly noticed when Luke jumped to his feet and charged across the room. The creature intercepted him with a roar, grabbing his jacket and throwing him aside with shocking strength. He bounced off the edge of the bed and hit the floor.

Nick’s brain was in scrambles trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing. Was this thing. . . protecting him? What the hell was it? Was it some sort of guardian angel?

As he racked his brain to figure out which religion he needed to convert to, Luke lunged again. When the monster-cat-angel tried to divert him, he ducked under its swipe and socked a fist into its lower back. The creature bellowed and dropped to its knees, then fell flat when Luke delivered a sharp kick to its head.

With the monster-cat-angel out of the way, Luke returned his attention to Nick. Nick whipped around and leaned up on the surface of the desk behind him, groping for something he could use as a weapon. His fingers closed around the slender grip of a letter opener, and he spun around right as Luke reached him.

Without pausing to think, Nick grasped the letter opener in both hands and jabbed it upward at the same time Luke lunged for him. Everything seemed to slow down as the blade sank into Luke’s stomach. He crashed down on Nick with his full body weight, inadvertently impaling himself. Blood soaked Nick’s hands and clothes, and for a moment, he and Luke sat frozen in mutual shock.

Luke stared down at the wound in his gut, at the blood that seeped through his shirt and dripped down Nick’s hands. He raised his head to meet Nick’s eyes, his face slack with shock.

With a strained shout, Nick kicked him away, ripping the letter opener out as he did. Luke stumbled back, bumping into an armchair. He stood there for several long seconds, swaying in place, his hands hovering over the open wound. Then, all at once, fury clouded his face, and he lurched back to Nick with an inhuman roar. Nick tried to stab him again, but Luke swiped the letter opener aside, grabbed him by the neck, and hurled him across the room.

Nick smacked head-first into the sharp corner of the dresser, and stars exploded across his vision.

The world warped around him. Sounds jumbled into static until all he could hear was his own heavy breathing and thundering heartbeat. He rolled away from the dresser and sluggishly pushed himself up, but a wave of vertigo washed over him, and he collapsed back down to the floor.

He was distantly aware of activity happening around him, but none of it registered clearly in his head. Snarling, grunting, more crashing; one loud bang, like a door being battered open; a sudden clamor of voices, barking orders and shouting over each other.

“Get him on the ground!”

“Watch his legs, get his legs!”

“Cuff him, now!”

Then Tanidev was there, kneeling beside him. He sounded like he was talking underwater when he asked, “Nick, can you hear me?”

“T-Tanidev, there was. . . d-did you see it?” Nick curled his fingers weakly into Tanidev’s shirt. “It was. . . it was white. . . had spots. . .”

“Stay with me, Nick. I’m right here. Just stay with me.” Tanidev shrugged off his bloody jacket, balled it up, and pressed it to the back of Nick’s head. Nick pawed at his wrist in a feeble attempt to help.

“Did you see it?” he asked again. If Tanidev had seen the creature, maybe he could tell Nick what it was. “I think. . . it protected me, so I think. . . I think maybe. . . it was an angel. . .”

“I need you to stay awake, Nick. Keep talking to me. Everything’s going to be alright. Just stay awake.”

Nick’s skull felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Despite Tanidev’s insistence that he stay awake, his eyelids grew heavy. It hurt to keep them open.

Tanidev’s face blurred. His voice was drowned out by a dull ringing.

Dark. It was so dark. His head hurt. Where was the monster-cat-angel? He had to stay awake.

Had to stay awake.

Had to

Stay

Awake

Chapter Text

Nick pulled off the interstate half a mile before the narrow in-road that led to the steel mill. He left his car in a ditch and went the rest of the way on foot; he wasn’t making the mistake of rushing in guns-a-blazing this time. He'd made a pit stop at the spice shop for weapons, and now carried his gun, triple crossbow, and two large daggers. For the sake of stealth, he wanted to avoid using his gun until absolutely necessary.

When he arrived at the mill, he refused to think about the first time he’d come here at Luke’s behest, just a few days ago. He refused to let his growing fear overtake him.

As he slunk through the shadows of rusting equipment and inactive generators, he kept an eye out for sentries. He spotted two armed guards by the main entrance and at least a dozen more posted around the building. If he went anywhere near that front door, he would be seen, so he continued circling in search of another access point. His efforts were rewarded when he found a more secluded door around the side of the mill. Two crossbow bolts later, he was in.

He crept along a grated floor, using the complex topography of the mill’s interior to remain hidden. His progress was slower than he would have liked, but the discretion was worth it. No alarms were raised as he snuck through the halls.

He eventually came to a heavily bolted door guarded by half a dozen men. Alexander and the Eisbibers had to be on the other side.

From the shadows, Nick raised his freshly loaded crossbow and shot three of the guards in quick succession, aiming for the ones farthest away. The others had no time to ready their weapons before Nick was upon them with his daggers. They were dead in less than a minute, leaving the door exposed.

Nick unlocked the door and eased it open. It screeched louder than he’d anticipated, ruining the ambush he’d hoped for. He abandoned stealth mode and burst into the room with his gun drawn. His instincts and body reacted faster than his mind did, and in a matter of seconds, he’d emptied the clip. One of four guards remained, and Nick threw himself behind a metal pipe to avoid a barrage of counter fire. Gripping one of his daggers by the blade, he waited until he heard the clacking of an empty mag before he jumped out from behind the pipe and threw the knife at the guard. The blade plunged into the man’s skull with a wet crunch, and he dropped to the ground, dead.

“Oh my God! Nick!”

Nick turned to the familiar sound of Bud’s voice, and he spotted the three Eisbibers tied to the railing of a raised walkway. He started toward them, but stopped at the sound of heavy chains clinking nearby. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Alexander.

Alexander was muzzled and chained to a metal pipe. His face was almost unrecognizable, covered in bruises and dried blood. Thanks to the picture Luke had texted him after their last phone call, Nick had known Alexander would look terrible, but seeing the damage in person made him nauseous.

He shuffled on his feet in a moment of indecision. Seeing his conflict, Alexander nodded toward the Eisbibers. Nick wanted nothing more than to run right to him, but he needed to get Bud and the others out first. He jogged over to them, gripping his remaining dagger, and cut each of their respective ropes. As soon as Bud was free, his threw his arms around Nick in a hug that nearly knocked him over.

“Oh, thank God! That Verosik guy is insane! I thought he was going to kill us!”

“He won’t. I won’t let that happen,” Nick promised.

Arnold hovered his hands over a bloody spot on his leg and said, “He shot me when he took us. I don’t know if I can stand.”

“I’m going to get you out of here, and we’ll get you to a hospital, alright? Just hang in there.”

Nick cast a final dubious glance at Alexander, then ushered the Eisbibers out of the room. He led them to what looked like a storage closet, where he hid them behind a bunch of dusty equipment. They huddled together on the ground, trembling with fright. Nick knelt in front of them and addressed Bud, who seemed to be handling the situation better than his friends. This wasn’t the first time his life had been in danger.

“The police are on their way,” Nick stated. “I needed a head start, but they should be here soon. I need you guys to stay here until they arrive, okay?”

“Wait, you’re leaving? You can’t just leave us here!” Bud cried, grabbing his arm.

Nick put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and explained, “I have to go back for Alexander. It’ll only take—”

“Who’s Alexander?”

“The other guy being held hostage. He’s an agent for the Wesen Council. I’ve worked with him a few times.”

“You’ve worked with the Wesen Council?” John gasped.

Nick patiently responded, “Yes, but we don’t have time to talk about that now. You three wait here. As soon as I get Alexander, I’ll come straight back, and we can all hole up here.”

“What if Luke finds you?” Arnold squeaked.

All three Eisbibers looked at Nick. The guilty fear in their eyes was plain to see. They didn’t think he could beat Luke.

Nick gritted his teeth and assured them, “If it comes to that, Alexander and I can hold him off until the police arrive. Now that you three are out of the picture, I doubt he’ll come looking for you. As long as you stay in here, you’ll be fine. We shouldn’t have to wait much longer.”

He started to rise, but as an afterthought, pressed the handle of his dagger into Bud’s palm. “On the off chance that a guard finds you in here, use this. You do not hesitate. You do not hold back. Do you understand?”

Bud nodded, his breathing quick and shallow. Nick closed Bud’s fingers around the handle, guided the sharp tip to his own chest, and said, “This is where the heart is. If you are attacked, you defend yourself, and you fight to kill. Do you understand?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I understand,” Bud conceded weakly. Nick released him, and Bud clutched the knife against his chest.

“Okay.” Nick clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to get you out of here. Everything’s going to be alright. Can you trust me on that?”

“Yeah. I trust you, Nick.”

“Okay. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Nick retraced his steps through the hallways, hoping and praying that Luke hadn’t killed Alexander in the time it had taken to hide the Eisbibers.

His shoulders slumped in relief when he entered the hostage room and saw Alexander right where he’d been before. Nick ran over and darted around to the back of the metal pipe, squatting to inspect the chains. They were heavy, and would clearly not come off without a key. He didn’t waste his time trying to break them. He instead skidded around to the front and knelt before Alexander.

“Put your head down. I’m going to try and get this thing off,” he directed, gingerly touching the muzzle.

Alexander lowered his head, and Nick fingered through his soft, dark curls until he found the straps. Thankfully, the muzzle didn’t require a key, so Nick unbuckled it and carefully eased it off his face. Alexander gagged and spat out a metal bit that had been stuck between his teeth.

Before Nick could say a word, Alexander pitched forward as far as the chains would allow and pressed a heated kiss to his mouth. Nick tangled his fingers into his hair and kissed him back without hesitation. It was a rushed, messy moment of intimacy, but charged with such raw emotion and so many unspoken words that Nick couldn’t recall a better kiss in their entire relationship.

Unfortunately, he could only allow it to last for a few passionate seconds before he pulled away and urgently clasped Alexander’s face.

“I need a key. Where’s the key?” he demanded.

“I don’t know, I woke up here. I saw a key ring on that one, though,” Alexander said, nodding to the guard Nick had killed with his dagger.

Nick ran over to where the guard lay. He yanked the knife out of his head, then fumbled at the man’s belt. Sure enough, he wore a key ring. Nick sliced open his belt loops, snatched the keys, and sprinted back to Alexander. He flipped through the different options with haste, trying them one by one in the cuffs. With each failed attempt, his paranoia grew, until he was convinced that Luke would leap from the shadows at any moment.

He whooped a small cry of victory when one of the keys slid neatly into the lock. He turned it, the lock clicked, and the chains clattered to the ground. He switched his attention to the fetters and found success with the same key. He helped Alexander ease his feet out of the shackles, wincing in sympathy at the red welts that marred his skin.

Alexander tried to stand, but stumbled back down to his knees with a groan. He might have fallen flat if Nick hadn’t leapt forward to catch him. Once Alexander was stable, he pulled Nick into a painfully tight hug and kissed him again, even harder than before. Nick wanted more than anything to stay like that, but they weren’t out of the woods yet.

Reluctantly breaking away, he told Alexander, “We need to leave. The police will be here any minute. Bud, John, and Arnold are safe, but you and I are still exposed here.”

“Understood. Lead the way.”

Nick seized Alexander’s hand, and they ran towards the exit together. They were no more than ten feet away when the door swung shut, and Luke emerged from the darkness behind it.

“Where are you going, Nick?” he asked with a smirk.

With a subtle turn of his wrist, the blade of a long, serrated knife flashed in the dim light. Nick heard the telltale slither of changing skin as Alexander woged, but he stepped in front of him, determined to keep himself between Alexander and Luke.

“It’s over,” he spat, not taking his eyes off Luke for a second. “The police are on their way. Even if we can’t tie you to the beheadings, you’ll be arrested for kidnapping, breaking and entering, aggravated assault, and attempted murder.”

“Please,” Luke scoffed. “You know my family better than that, Nick. I won’t spend more than a day behind bars. Besides, even if the police are coming. . . you’re right here. This is exactly what I wanted: mano-a-mano, Grimm-on-Grimm.”

His eyes flicked to Alexander, and he amended, “Well, almost. What do you say we even the odds?”

He charged, moving so fast that the only thing Nick saw was a white-haired blur before he was striking down with his knife. Nick’s instincts kicked in, and he body-checked Alexander out of the way, bringing his dagger up to block Luke’s swipe and kneeing him in the gut. He grabbed Luke’s wrist, spun, and kicked his legs out from under him.

Luke sprung back to his feet with an agile kick-up. When Nick took a swing at him with his dagger, he dodged and slashed across Nick’s back with his own blade. Nick stumbled away, and a sting of hot pain along the path of Luke’s knife indicated that he’d taken a hit. He had no time to recover before Luke was barreling down on him again.

Before long, Nick’s instincts were in full control, piloting his body through every move before he had a chance to consciously think about it. It was like a choreographed dance; one of them would occasionally land a hit on the other with a spray of blood and a grunt of pain, and then they would continue without skipping a beat.

At one point, Luke bore down on Nick, driving him to his knees. Their arms were taut, locking them firmly together. In the moment of pause before one of them would inevitably kick or twist away, Alexander intervened.

He pounced on Luke’s back with a snarl, knocking him flat to the floor. Nick spun out of the way, turning back just in time to see Luke throw an arm up in defense. Alexander had been aiming to bite Luke’s neck, but his fangs instead sank into his forearm. Luke shouted in pain and yanked his arm out of Alexander’s teeth, then thrust it back up with a hard elbow to his jaw. Having bought half a second of time with the blow, he twisted onto his back, threw a knee up into Alexander’s stomach, and slid out from beneath him with a sharp kick. Alexander lunged again, but Luke slashed at his face, and Alexander was unable to avoid a shallow slice across his cheek. His blood was vibrantly red against his white fur.

Luke had just risen to one knee when Nick was upon him again, attacking without restraint. Luke dodged a vicious stab to his shoulder and knocked Nick back with a hard kick to the ribs.

As if finally realizing he was at a disadvantage, Luke retreated up a narrow staircase to a catwalk high in the air. Nick and Alexander followed in hot pursuit, the former sprinting up the stairs while the latter leapt with inhuman agility across equipment and railings.

They cornered Luke as he was crossing a walkway. Alexander blocked one end while Nick brought up the rear at the other. Luke stared between them, his braided hair mussed and his clothes splattered with blood.

“It’s over, Verosik,” Alexander growled.

“Is it?” Luke sneered.

Alexander pounced with a roar, claws outstretched, but Luke was ready for it. He fell backwards as Alexander landed on him, but grabbed his arms and used his momentum to kick him over the railing of the walkway. Alexander tumbled through the air and landed hard on a lower platform.

“Alexander!” Nick shouted, almost throwing himself over the rail in his panic. He watched with growing fear as Alexander woged back to his human skin. If he was still alive, he’d been knocked out cold.

Suddenly, Luke was in Nick’s periphery, tackling him to the ground. Nick’s dagger fell from his hand and skittered across the floor. He brought his knee up into Luke’s ribs and rolled them over, putting himself on top. The advantage didn’t last long, because Luke grabbed his neck and punched him hard in the face; that was all he needed to roll them back over to where they’d started. He threw another strike before Nick could recover. His fist cracked across Nick’s cheek, snapping his head to the side, and his long fingers tightened dangerously around Nick’s throat.

“You and your Wesen doxy can put up a fight, I’ll give you that much,” Luke panted.

He punched Nick again. Blood sprayed across the grated floor of the catwalk. He gave Nick a rough shake, knocking the back of his head against the floor, and hissed, “But you can’t kill me, Nick. You couldn’t kill me then, and you can’t kill me now. Even two-on-one, you can’t win. Fucking pathetic.”

“Fuck you,” Nick spat, clawing viciously at Luke’s hand.

“Maybe I could, one last time, but I’ve gotta be honest, I didn’t think you had this much fight left in you. Not sure I want to put up with it anymore. Your buyer will be disappointed, but at the end of the day, you’re a hell of a lot more trouble than you’re worth. So I think this is the end for us, baby.”

Luke raised his knife and brought it down toward Nick’s chest. Nick threw both hands up just in time to catch the strike. Luke put his full weight behind the weapon, and despite Nick’s resistance, the blade inched downward, the sharp tip hovering closer and closer to his heart.

Suddenly, a face appeared behind Luke. With a squeaky Eisbiber war cry, Bud plunged a dagger into the back of his knee.

Luke’s leg buckled, and he collapsed to the side with a yell of pain. He turned and swung an arm out, backhanding Bud across the face. Bud fell against the railing with a cry, crawling backwards as Luke staggered to his feet and limped menacingly towards him. Nick leapt up, grabbed his long braid, and yanked him back.

“Bud, get out of here!” he shouted.

Bud didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and booked it down the walkway. Luke slammed Nick back against the rail and threw him to the grated floor. Nick clumsily dragged himself away, trying and failing several times to stand as Luke prowled closer. Luke was limping and covered in blood, but no less frightening in his approach.

“You slippery faggot,” he growled, flipping his blade with a vicious flourish. “This was fun while it lasted, but we’ve reached the end of the line, babe. No more games. No more mercy.”

“That’s the first thing you’ve ever said that I agree with,” Nick panted. He grabbed his dagger and rose to his feet with a groan, leaning on the railing for support.

Luke lunged. He swiped high, and Nick raised his own blade to parry, but Luke released the handle, and the knife dropped into his free hand. Nick’s eyes widened, but he couldn’t move fast enough to accommodate the surprise attack as Luke plunged the knife into his gut.

They fell to the floor in a bloody heap. Nick screamed and slashed at Luke’s face, devolving into a clumsy, desperate defense until he was able to shove him off. Luke didn’t attack again; he just sat on his haunches, chest heaving, watching as Nick dragged himself away.

Nick gaped down at the knife handle sticking out of his abdomen. He grabbed it with trembling hands and yanked it out. The serrated blade was coated in a wet red sheen, and all he could do was stare as blood seeped out of the wound to soak his shirt. He groped above his head for the rail and pulled himself to his feet, but the world stretched and swayed around him. His knees quivered dangerously, threatening to buckle under his weight.

“I’m sorry it had to end this way, Nick,” Luke said. It almost sounded genuine. “I love you. Always have, always will.”

He stood with a groan, gave Nick a final once-over, and turned to leave. As he did, he came face-to-face with Alexander in full woge, roaring with animal fury.

Alexander crashed into Luke, closing his jaws around his throat. Luke screamed and battered wildly at him. It took a jab to the neck and a desperate knee to the gut to throw Alexander off, but the damage was already done.

Luke hauled himself upright and stumbled against the rail, both hands flying up to his savaged throat. His mouth gaped in shock, and a stream of blood gushed from his lips as he choked around the fresh wound. He tried to stagger away, but Nick stepped in his path and shoved him back against the rail, plunging his blade into his chest.

“N-No,” Luke gasped, his voice congested with blood.

“You don’t get to say no to me,” Nick hissed.

He ripped the knife out. He felt the edges of the blade scrape bone as it slid between Luke’s ribs. Luke reeled back, eyes bulging, and with a ferocious shout, Nick kicked him over the rail. Luke fell, spinning and pinwheeling in midair, and hit the ground with a resounding thud far below. And thus Luke Verosik died, his broken body sprawled across the floor, beautiful ivory hair soaked red with his own blood.

Nick stood by the railing, staring down over the edge. It didn’t feel real. It felt more like some visceral fever dream.

Luke was dead.

“Nick.”

Nick turned slowly; every movement triggered a fresh ache as the adrenaline faded. Alexander woged back to his human skin, and Nick reached one hand up to cup his cheek. Alexander grasped his fingers and pressed a soft kiss to his palm. Leaning into Nick’s hand, he murmured, “It’s done. We have to go.”

“Right. We need. . .”

What did they need? What did they have to do? Then he remembered: “We need to get back to the Eisbibers. Bud will be worried. I promised I’d come back.”

Nick’s gaze locked on the stairs, and with a goal secured in his mind, he started shuffling to the end of the walkway. A wave of vertigo washed over him, and all of a sudden, he couldn’t seem to control his own legs. He wasn’t aware he was falling until Alexander surged forward to catch him and Nick face-planted into his chest.

“Nick? Nick, what’s wrong?”

“Hurts,” Nick moaned.

His whole body hurt. His shirt was warm and sticky, but underneath it, a cool numbness was spreading through his torso.

“You guys did it! You got him! You—wait, what’s wrong with him?”

Bud had come back. Nick tried to straighten, to order Bud back to his hiding place with John and Arnold, but when he tried to move, he only managed a sluggish flop. The sudden jolt threw Alexander off-balance, and he stumbled to his knees.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Nick mumbled.

“Nick, you need to stay awake. Look at me. Look only at me,” Alexander ordered. He looked over his shoulder at Bud and demanded, “Have the police arrived?”

“I think so. We heard sirens and a bunch of gunshots. They might still be fighting their way through the guards.”

“Get help, now!” Alexander barked.

Bud nodded and scampered down the stairs. Nick tried to chastise Alexander for yelling at Bud, because Eisbibers were sensitive folk, but the words clogged in his throat, and he spat up a mouthful of blood. Alexander cupped one hand under his head and held him up, gently saying, “It’s alright. Everything will be alright.”

His voice cracked, and Nick frowned when he saw tears glistening in his soft green eyes.

“Hey,” he murmured, thwacking his hand against Alexander’s chest in a clumsy attempt at comfort. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

“I know. I’m here, too. I’m staying right here,” Alexander promised.

“Good. That’s good.” Nick coughed up some more blood. “Never liked sleeping alone.”

“No, no, don’t go to sleep. You have to stay awake. Look at me, Nick.”

“But I’m tired,” Nick complained. He was tired. He was exhausted. “Think I just need to sleep it off. Will you. . . will you stay with me?”

A despairing sob escaped Alexander. Cradling Nick tight against his chest, he pressed a kiss to his hair and whispered, “Yes, Nick, I’ll stay with you. I’m right here. I’m staying right here.”

“Okay. See you in the morning.”

He didn’t hurt so much anymore. He was blanketed in a dull chill, but Alexander was nice and warm, so he couldn’t complain.

Alexander wanted him to stay awake, but would it really be so bad if he rested his eyes for a few minutes? Sleep sounded good.

“Nick, stay with me. Please, you can’t go. Please.”

He wasn’t going anywhere.

He just needed to rest.

Chapter Text

The first thing Nick became aware of was the headache.

It was a nauseating, relentless pounding on all sides of his skull. When he cracked his eyes open, his vision was flooded with bright fluorescent light, which only aggravated his migraine. He raised an arm to shield his face as he blearily looked around.

He was in a hospital bed, with an EKG to his right and an IV stand on his left. Tanidev sat in a chair in the corner, sound asleep, slumped to the side with his head resting against the wall.

Tanidev. Luke’s guard. Luke.

He wasn’t in a hospital, he realized. He was in the med room in Luke’s manor.

He was still with Luke.

He began to hyperventilate, and the beeping his heart monitor sped up. He couldn’t still be in the manor. If Luke had beaten him, then he should be dead, shouldn’t he? Unless. . . unless Luke had something worse planned.

Nick’s gut wrenched, and he uttered a low moan of terror. He sat up and tried to push himself to the edge of the bed, but was knocked back onto the pillow by a rush of dizzying nausea.

Suddenly, Tanidev was there, leaning over the bed and clasping Nick’s hands.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s alright.”

Nick grabbed his arm and sputtered, “P-Please, y-you have to get me out of here. Please, Tanidev, it’s going to be so much worse, I can’t stay here, you have to—you have to—”

“Nick, look at me. Look right here.” Tanidev met his eyes and firmly said, “You’re not with Luke. You’re at the hospital. It’s alright, you’re safe. Calm down.”

“But. . . but. . .”

“You hit your head pretty hard.”

“I. . . my head?” Nick lifted one hand to his hair. His fingers brushed a tight cap of bandages.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I-I don’t know,” Nick admitted. Tanidev helped him sit up, and he slowly said, “I think. . . I was with Luke.”

“And he left to go to the reunion. Do you remember that?”

Nick nodded. “Yeah, and. . . and I remember telling you, I think, because you said. . .”

He stared at Tanidev, who waited patiently for him to recount the events. Nick sucked in a breath and whispered, “You’re FBI. You were undercover the whole time.”

“That’s right. What else do you remember?”

“Um. . . okay, uh, I remember I was getting ready to leave, because you told me to hide in the tunnel.”

“And then?”

“And then Luke came home, and he. . . he attacked me.” Nick’s breathing quickened, but Tanidev grabbed his chin and turned his face, bringing their eyes back together.

“And then?” he prompted.

“I don’t. . . I don’t know. Were you there?”

“I was there.”

“You must have gotten me out, then, because I don’t. . .” Nick dropped his head into his hands and groaned, “I don’t know what else happened. I don’t remember. I was there, and then I woke up here. I just. . . my head just hurts really bad right now.”

“Hey, that’s okay. That’s all I needed to know,” Tanidev assured him. There was a note of relief in his voice.

The door opened suddenly, and Nick was seized by a fresh bolt of fear. He grasped Tanidev’s sleeve like a lifeline, but relaxed when Captain Firman and Sergeant Hackle walked into view.

They stopped a few feet away from his bed, and an awkward silence fell over the room. Nick became acutely aware of how pallid and emaciated he was, of how many bruises and scrapes covered his exposed skin. Firman opened his mouth to speak, then shut it.

“Burkhardt, I. . .” he started, but the words died on his lips. He cleared his throat and asked, “How are you holding up?”

“Okay, I guess,” Nick said. He was far from okay, but that wasn’t the response Firman was looking for.

Sergeant Hackle threw an exasperated look at Firman, then moved forward and said, “We owe you an apology, son. If we had any idea that Luke would—” He paused and amended, “If we’d known what would happen, we wouldn’t have put you through that.”

Nick stared at them for a long time. Based on the mutual guilt written across their faces, they knew about the things Luke had done. That revelation somehow made Nick feel worse.

“Do you know about all of it?”

Firman and Hackle shared an uncomfortable look. Hackle shifted on his feet and said, “Not all of it, I’m sure, but we got the gist.”

Another pause. Nick finally asked, “Where is he?”

“In custody. We’ve got eyes on him 24/7. He’s not going anywhere,” Firman reported, lighting up.

“You put up a hell of a fight, kid. You’re lucky to be alive after going head-to-head with a Verosik,” Hackle stated. He clicked his tongue and added, “Let me tell you something, Burkhardt: I know dozens of officers who wouldn’t have lasted half as long as you did. I don’t know where you found that kind of chutzpah in the middle of the shit you were putting up with, but. . .” He sighed and shook his head.

“You did good, kid,” Firman concluded. “That’s what we’re trying to say.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But on the subject of Luke, we’ve got just one more thing to ask of you.”

Hackle and Tanidev both glared at Firman, but he ignored them and explained, “Now that he’s in custody, it won’t take long to finagle a trial. But if we want to come out of this on top, you’ll have to testify.”

Nick wanted to curl into a ball and sink into the ground. It wasn’t enough that he’d had to be with Luke for six months; now, right when he thought he was in the clear, he was going to have to relive those six months in front of a full courtroom.

His first reaction was anger. It didn’t feel fair. Even after everything, he still wasn’t done. They still wanted more from him.

His next thought was that he was being selfish. He had a job to do, whether he liked it or not. If he really wanted Luke to face justice, he had to do his part.

“Do I have to talk about everything?” he asked hesitantly.

He didn’t want to tell a judge and jury about all the vile things he’d let Luke do with his body. He didn’t want to remember his time trapped in the inky darkness of the basement cells, where he’d lost his voice screaming for Luke to let him out. He didn’t want to remember how pathetically he’d pleaded for his life when Luke held a gun to his head. He didn’t want to admit that for the last four months—ever since Ron’s death—the investigation had been the very last thing on his mind.

There were things that not even Tanidev had seen, things he would sooner take to his grave.

Firman patiently said, “Burkhardt—Nick—I know this is a lot to ask, but we need to get him nailed down. In order to do that, we need a full testimony.

Nick gulped and nodded, blinking back an onslaught of tears. He couldn’t cry in front of his bosses.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” Firman said with a sigh of relief.

Tanidev gave Nick’s hand a comforting squeeze, but Nick didn’t look at him. If he looked at Tanidev, he would definitely start crying. He wasn’t sure where this sudden dignity had come from (he was certain he’d lost all trace of it in Luke’s manor), but he couldn’t stand the idea of looking so weak in front of Firman and Hackle. It was bad enough that they were seeing him beaten down in a hospital bed.

“Until the trial gets underway, you and Tanidev will be staying in a safe house in Newark.”

“Isn’t that out of our jurisdiction?”

“The feds set it up. Tanidev’s already given his statement. We’ll have you meet with the DA as soon as you’ve recovered.”

Nick nodded. He was still selfishly averse to the idea of testifying, but found some reassurance in the fact that he wouldn’t be staying in the safe house by himself.

After a few more minutes of mixed praise and sympathy, Firman and Hackle left, leaving him alone with Tanidev. Nick fell limp against the pillow and gazed wearily into his eyes.

“Thank you for staying with me, Tanidev.”

“Wayne.”

“Wayne,” Nick amended. He gave a small smile, but it quickly fell from his face. “It’s really over?”

“It’s over,” Tanidev confirmed. “He won’t touch you again.”

The tears finally came, and Nick grasped Tanidev’s hand tightly. Tanidev stayed with him like a silent guardian angel, and he didn’t move from his bedside until Nick had no tears left to shed and exhaustion propelled him into sleep.

*****

Nick emerged from the darkness slowly. His limbs were leaden, and his body felt like it was melting into the bed beneath him. When he groggily lifted his head, the first thing he saw was a thin tube poking out of his arm. He followed it to an IV bag hanging from a stand beside him, and it took a few seconds of thought before it clicked that he was in a hospital bed.

He blinked in dazed surprise when a set of hands cupped his face. Before he had the chance to ask where he was, warm lips were on his, pushing him back down onto the pillow. He instinctively knew who it was before his brain caught up to the kiss and his eyes focused on the person in front of him.

Alexander broke away and gazed down at him. His handsome face was swollen with bruises, his nose looked broken, and a cut was healing on his lip, but if he was in pain, he didn’t show it. He had eyes only for Nick.

“How are you feeling? Are you in much pain? What do you remember?”

“Wait, wait, hang on a minute,” Nick groaned, flapping a hand and squeezing his eyes shut. He planted his hands under his ass and tried to sit up, but gasped when sudden pain flared in his gut.

“Don’t move. You’ll tear the stitches,” Alexander said, catching him in his fall and easing him back down.

“Stitches? What stitches?”

Alexander clenched his jaw. His eyes tightened with pain as he reminded Nick, “Luke almost killed you.”

“Oh,” Nick breathed.

Everything came rushing back at once. Sneaking into the mill, murdering dozens of guards without a backward glance along the way; rescuing the Eisbibers and promising them that everything would be alright, even though he knew those words had a good chance of being bullshit; freeing Alexander from his chains; a kiss, quick but heated, like an unspoken vow that neither one was leaving without the other.

He remembered Luke, and the catwalk, and the knife.

Luke, choking on his own blood, falling.

“He’s gone,” Nick whispered.

“Yes. You killed him. We killed him.” Alexander took Nick’s hand and kissed his knuckles.

The wind left Nick’s lungs in one heavy exhale of shock. He shut his eyes and went limp on the bed. A tremor shuddered through him, and a single tear slid down his face.

Luke was well and truly gone. Not in custody, but dead.

Alexander caressed Nick’s cheek and said, “He can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt anyone.”

Nick grasped Alexander’s hand and held it against his face. A few more tears leaked from his eyes, but no more. He was so tired and had already cried so much.

He was alive. Alexander was alive. They were together.

And Luke was gone.

Now that he was safe, a thought occurred to him out of the blue, one he hadn’t pondered since the failed trap they’d set for Luke at the paper mill. He opened his eyes and met Alexander’s gaze.

“When we confronted him with Renard, and earlier, when he first contacted me, he said. . .”

“What?”

Nick frowned at the memory. It had only been a few days, but it felt so much longer. He cleared his throat and recalled, “He said he had other reasons for coming here. And at the steel mill, when he tried to kill me, he said I had a ‘buyer’ who would be disappointed. He never mentioned who he might have been working with, though. Is this ringing any bells for you?”

Alexander knit his brow and shook his head. He hesitantly offered, “I can look into it for you, if you’d like. It’s not unfounded to assume he was in cahoots with someone. Perhaps he was referring to a relative?”

“Maybe,” Nick relented, but he was unconvinced.

His ears suddenly perked up at the sound of familiar voices. He peeked around Alexander to watch the door. His sensitive hearing told him they were close.

“What is it?”

“Monroe and Rosalee are coming. They’re probably worried.”

“I suppose that’s my cue to leave, then,” Alexander sighed, standing up and regretfully releasing Nick’s hand.

“Wait, you’re going already? Back to Europe?” Nick didn’t try to hide his disappointment.

Despite the spark of longing in Alexander’s eyes, he stepped away from Nick’s bedside.

“I am an agent of the Wesen Council, Nick. I have responsibilities.”

“But. . .” Nick sighed and conceded, “Okay. You’re right. Goodbye, I guess.”

Alexander gave him a curt nod and turned to leave, but at the last moment, Nick reached out to grab his hand. It took him several tries to get the words out, but he cleared his throat and said, “Thank you.”

He released Alexander’s hand and lay back against the pillow. Alexander’s face tightened, but he slipped from the room without another word. Nick shut his eyes and tried to compose himself for his friends, but he couldn’t suppress the growing ache in his heart. There was so much more he should have said—so much he needed to say. He didn’t want Alexander to leave yet. He didn’t want Alexander to leave ever again.

He had little time to wallow in his loneliness, however, because the door opened, and Monroe and Rosalee hurried into the room. Rosalee shut the door while Monroe approached the bed. Nick managed a smile, despite how sore his face was.

“It’s good to see you alive,” Monroe said with a relieved chuckle. “From what Bud described, we weren’t sure you were going to make it.”

“What did he say?”

“Blood. Lots of blood. Basically, you and Luke shredded each other like cheese.”

Nick shrugged. It wasn’t far from the truth.

“Speaking of Luke,” Rosalee put her hands in her pockets and moved to stand beside Monroe. They shared an uneasy look, then Rosalee met Nick’s eyes and said, “If you need to talk about what happened this week, or whatever happened back in New York. . .”

Nick rubbed his sore ribs and sighed. After a short pause, he stated, “A lot of things happened. It was a long time ago, and it’s not a part of my life I like to look back on.”

“We both understand how that feels, Nick. It’s just. . . we know you have your reasons for not telling us about him, but—”

“I didn’t tell anyone about him.”

“We know. Hank said you were pretty tightlipped about it.”

Nick’s stomach turned with guilt. He’d given Hank, Wu, and Renard a synopsis of the Verosik sting and the failed trial that resulted from it, but he’d skimmed the details of his relationship with Luke. There were so many subjects that he didn’t know how to broach, so many ugly memories that he would rather keep buried.

“I didn’t tell them everything,” he admitted.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to. But when the time comes that you are ready to talk about it. . . you know you can tell us anything, right?”

“I know.”

“Good. That’s good,” Monroe said shortly. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looked Nick up and down, and asked, “Does it hurt?”

“Monroe,” Rosalee said exasperatedly.

“Very much,” Nick replied, resting a hand on his abdomen. He frowned and craned his neck to look past them. “Where are Hank and Wu, by the way?”

“The precinct. They wanted to come see you, but they’re still wrapping up the case. Paperwork and whatnot, dotting the i’s, crossing the t’s.”

“Adalind?”

“She’s good. Renard’s helping with cleanup, so she’s going to keep the kids over the weekend.”

“What about Bud and his friends? How are they holding up?”

“Traumatized, but safe. Bud is spreading the good word to all his friends and neighbors—ding-dong, the Grimm is dead, all that happy stuff.”

Monroe suddenly exchanged a serious look with Rosalee. She was the one to voice the next question.

“We talked to Bud. He told us Alexander was at the mill, too. And when Luke called you at the shop. . .”

“Oh. That. Yeah, that was, uh. . .” Pulling the words completely out of his ass, Nick bluffed, “That was a mix-up. Luke made an assumption and got the wrong hostage.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how Alexander wanted to talk to me about secret Council business?”

Monroe and Rosalee nodded. Making up the lie as he went, Nick explained, “Well, when the Council heard there was an Endezeichen Grimm in Portland, they sent Alexander to supervise the investigation.”

“Yeah, Hank mentioned that you guys collaborated with him.”

“Right. Well, after the paper mill incident—which I’m guessing Hank also told you about—the case started going south fast. That was when Alexander told me the Council wanted Luke dead, not just arrested. I told him to fuck off, because the Council doesn’t get to tell me what to do, but after that conversation, he went to my loft to stake me out. Luke happened to be doing the same thing, and when he saw Alexander there, he assumed we were. . . involved.”

Monroe frowned and pointed out, “You sounded pretty upset when Luke called you in the spice shop, though. Who did you think he was talking about?”

After the briefest moment of deliberation, Nick said, “If it turns into anything more than what it is now, I’ll tell you.”

He wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret forever, he knew, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. For the time being, he allowed his guard to fall as Monroe and Rosalee clamored around him with a mix of worry and congratulations.

There was only one person who could make the moment better.

*****

Alexander lifted his new phone to his ear and steeled himself for the critical reprimand he was no doubt about to receive.

De Groot picked up on the first ring.

Alexander hastily said, “I know my failure to return to The Hague may have caused some alarm, given the circumstances, but I can explain.”

“Very well. Explain.”

Alexander summarized his capture and subsequent rescue, finishing with his and Nick’s victory against Luke. He decided not to disclose the video Luke had shown him, nor the volatile depth of his past with Nick. When he was done, he waited uneasily for De Groot’s reaction.

“Burkhardt is in hospital, then?” De Groot asked at last.

“Yes. He had to undergo emergency surgery, but he is alive and on the mend.”

“In that case, I trust you are making preparations for your return? We have work for you here.”

Alexander took a deep breath and readied himself to deliver his proposition. Never before had he considered such a profane request as he was about to pose now; it bordered on insubordination.

“Sir, if I may, I’d like your leave to remain in Portland while Burkhardt recovers. The doctors estimate two weeks.”

Technically, the doctors had estimated only one week thanks to how well Nick was healing, but there was no harm in being careful. Alexander elected to gloss over that detail as he added, “I’ve inferred that my continued companionship would have a positive impact on his well-being.”

The ensuing silence was resounding. Alexander held his breath and waited, silently praying that De Groot would grant his request.

At last, the Councilman spoke. His counter question took Alexander by surprise.

“Would his continued companionship have a positive impact on your well-being?”

“Yes,” Alexander answered immediately. “Yes, it would.”

For him, it was no debate. He was in love with Nick. Whether Nick reciprocated his feelings, he wasn’t certain, but never before had he yearned for anything the way he yearned to stay by Nick’s side.

Happiness flooded his heart when De Groot sighed and said, “Very well. You have my leave to remain in Portland for the next fourteen days. However, I expect you to fulfill your regular duties through virtual filing, and you will maintain daily contact with me. We will have to schedule a meeting that conforms to both of our time zones, ja?”

“Of course, sir. You have my utmost gratitude.”

They spoke for a few more minutes, then De Groot hung up, and Alexander pocketed his phone. A breathless laugh escaped him.

He could stay with Nick. He had a feeling their allotted two weeks would pass far too quickly, but he didn’t have to abandon his beloved Grimm. After the toll Luke had taken on Nick’s psyche, Alexander felt that his presence was needed now more than ever.

He could barely contain his elation, but he forced himself to sit in his vehicle and wait. As soon as Nick’s friends left, Alexander would return to his bedside and deliver the update.

Neither of them would have to sleep alone.