Josh

“What’s impossible? I don’t get it.” Isaac’s bloodshot eyes gleamed, either from crying or sheer exhaustion. He staggered slightly, his body close to giving out. I grabbed him by the waist again, steadying him without breaking eye contact.

The second my hand hit his waist, he jerked—just enough to show he wanted out. His lean muscles tensed under my grip, tightening at the touch. Almost snarling, like a cornered cat. Torn between resistance and needing me. That flash of defiance flickered in his eyes, and fuck my cock stirred.

I loved that fire.

That fight.

How he never backed down, even when everything else was crumbling.

Isaac’s jaw clenched, his cheeks flushing red as his chest rose and fell in quick bursts. His hand flew to his mouth, hiding the tremble in his lips, but all I could think about was how those lips had felt against mine.

My eyes dropped to his throat, to the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, and I wanted to kiss him again. Harder this time. Properly.

I’d devour him whole if I could.

But this wasn’t the moment. Not after watching him almost die.

Once again, I was acting like the monster I was.

He turned away like he couldn’t handle me watching him or the feel of me. He blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear his vision. The black clouds and darkness from earlier still lingered in the corners of the room, and something in his expression made me pause.

Then, I noticed the scattered chaos around us. Objects that had floated moments ago were now flung awkwardly across the room, papers and small items dashed against the walls. They’d dropped the second Isaac calmed down. My gaze shifted to him, and I realized he couldn’t face me.

Was he scared of me, or himself?

Isaac shook his head, then looked back, eyes clouded with confusion. He didn’t say anything—just stared, lost.

My hands stayed on him, feeling his pulse hammering beneath the skin. Guilt started eating away at me. If I told him everything now—about the gods, about the shadows—it might break him. Or worse, push him too far. I couldn’t answer yet. But keeping it in? That was just as dangerous.

I forced an even breath, but it felt like my dick had short-circuited. Thoughts raced, scrambling to make sense of everything. I couldn’t let him see how close I was to going nuts. But Chronos—that name didn’t belong in our world. The god of time wasn’t something I could ignore. Just thinking about him sent a chill through my veins.

In Black Hand, the only thing we knew about Chronos—the father of gods, the destroyer of time—was that he’d been wiped from the records. We were trained to identify Espers and trace their powers back to the gods they descended from. Yet, Chronos was always a mystery. His name came up, but there was nothing concrete—no known descendants, no record of his powers, just that he was the strongest, the most dangerous god of all.

Until Aldragoth killed him.

No one knew what happened to his blade—the one thing that was supposed to reset the world after the Seven Days of Cleansing. Only a god can kill another god, and when that happens, it creates an imbalance. No one fully understands what that imbalance means or looks like. But if Chronos was dead, how the hell was this purge supposed to stop? And how the fuck had he spoken with Isaac?

“Josh, you’re not answering me,” Isaac pushed.

I locked my grip on his waist, trying to ground both of us. His skin was clammy, sweat soaking through his shirt. His body trembled, battling whatever fear had taken hold.

He turned toward me, staring with frustration and disbelief. “Did you know anything about him? And that god thing? Huh?” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “None of this makes sense.”

He rubbed his eyes, trying to block everything out, but the tears still slipped through. I moved without thinking, wiping them away with my thumb. I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to spill every secret, every name, to erase the broken look in his eyes. But I couldn’t give him anything.

“I want to give you answers, but I don’t have any right now.”

That was the truth. I needed to contact the Unit. If Isaac was a descendant of Chronos—and judging by how his powers were awakening, I was almost sure of it—they’d know what to do. Time slowing, the ground turning to quicksand beneath us, was a dead giveaway.

But if I contacted them… if they found out Isaac might be related to Chronos…

No. I couldn’t jump to conclusions.

I stared at Isaac, the weight of my hand on him growing heavier by the second.

“Does this have anything to do with what you did in the military?” Isaac’s voice trembled, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“I—” I started, my mind flashing to all the things I could never tell him. The things I wasn’t allowed to say, but Isaac didn’t give me a chance to continue.

“Just tell me if this has anything to do with what you used to do. This isn’t normal, Josh! I was about to die, and you’re acting way too fucking calm for a god to show up. But you freeze when I mention that Chronos kid? Like you know something you’re not telling me. What the hell is going on?”

“Isaac, I need you to trust me, okay?”

He was looking at me for answers, for something to hold onto, and I wasn’t giving him anything. How much could I tell him? How much should I tell him? I should tell him… But right now, I just needed him safe. I couldn’t shatter the fragile calm we’d found, not yet. There’d be time for the truth later—if there was a later.

Isaac tensed even more under my hands. I wiped away the last tear and traced his cheek with my thumb. I wanted to hold him together, but nothing I said would fix this.

“What are you hiding from me?” His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white. His eyes were still wet, and he wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. “You’re not telling me shit! You know what? Fine, fuck it. Move.”

Dropping my hands felt like letting go of the only thing keeping us both together. The emptiness was overwhelming, like I’d failed him.

He didn’t look at me when he spoke again. “I know… we spent too much time apart. You had your life. You moved on. And me… I’ve missed so much. You missed so much.”

There was a pause, and he let the air settle between us. His next words were quieter, but more certain. “Promise me one thing then. We’ll get Will.”

His voice wasn’t defiant anymore, just asking for something. It was his way of accepting, of trusting me again, even if it was just for now.

I wanted to reach for him again, to tell him it’d be okay, but I couldn’t. The only thing I could offer was the promise he needed. “I swear,” I said. “We’ll get him.”

I hesitated before speaking again, quieter this time. “Please, Isaac. At least let me treat your wounds.”

Isaac nodded reluctantly, and his gaze stayed ahead, away from mine. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at me, but the small nod was enough. Even if he wasn’t happy about it, he was letting me help.

***

Sitting in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the wheel, I stared out the windshield at nothing in particular. Isaac needed time—time to pull himself together, to find some footing after everything that had just happened.

I’d stayed in the living room, giving him space while he showered. I tried not to replay the close call from earlier, how badly things could’ve gone if I’d said the wrong thing. But after ten minutes of silence, I couldn’t resist.

I checked on him.

I hadn’t meant to. My feet moved on their own, and before I knew it, I was at the door to the bathroom. I knocked, but there was no response. Just the sound of water hitting the tile.

A weight pressed down on my chest, heavier with each second of silence. I cracked the door open just enough to slip inside. Steam rolled out, but it wasn’t the heat that caught my attention; it was the sound. Muffled sniffles, coming from the shower.

Isaac.

I just stood there, listening to him trying to hold himself together and losing the battle. Saying anything would’ve been pointless. He didn’t need that. He needed space, the freedom to fall apart without someone hovering over him, trying to fix it. So I stayed by the door, leaning against the wall, until I heard the sniffles stop.

Only then did I walk away.

He didn’t need to know I’d been there.

I headed to his room, knowing he wouldn’t be able to think straight when he got out. Picking out clothes was probably the last thing on his mind right now. For Isaac, even something as simple as finding a shirt would feel like a monumental task with everything that had just gone down.

Opening his drawers, I grabbed the first pair of jeans I could find and the blue hoodie he usually wore when he was feeling off.

Getting out of the house was the only thing that mattered. I knew that. Get on the road. Clear his head.

I tossed the clothes on his bed and headed to the car. And now here I was, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel, resisting the urge to check on him again. The engine was running, the steady hum filling the air, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the tightness in my chest.

He needed me to be strong. To stay calm. But that was getting harder by the minute.

My patience was wearing thin, irritation bubbling up for no reason I could understand. My fingers drummed faster and faster on the wheel. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I felt so wound up. But then I heard a knock on the passenger-side window. Isaac stood there, almost composed—except for the sunglasses hiding his eyes.

Seeing him in the clothes I’d laid out felt like a small relief, but the way he moved said enough. He wasn’t fully present.

As he slid into the seat, the click of the seatbelt buckling up broke the silence, and a faint scent hit me. He smelled like me. My soap, my shampoo. Something about it ignited a deep, possessive spark inside me, an almost primal satisfaction that he’d used my things. But I forced the feeling aside, burying it before it could take hold.

Isaac handed me a bottle of water and a pack of snacks. “You’ll probably get hungry fast… like always,” he said, tone flat. His voice had a ring to it—deep but not too deep, with a rough edge from everything he’d just been through.

I could see it even through the sunglasses, the exhaustion weighing him down, the hesitation to rely on me. But he was too weak to push me away, too drained after everything that had happened. He wasn’t ready to admit it, maybe not even fully aware of how badly he needed help right now. But I could tell.

Taking the bottle and snacks, I glanced at him and mumbled, “Thanks.” The car seat rustled as Isaac shifted in his spot, but I wasn’t sure if he even heard me. He just settled in, keeping to himself.

I glanced down at the map I’d marked up earlier while waiting. A rough sketch of the route to California lay on the dash. It felt old school, but judging how things were going down, I didn’t trust my phone to last much longer. Reception was already starting to go to shit.

Isaac noticed the map and let out a low whistle. “So, you used to mark maps in the military, huh?” He shot a glance my way before looking back at the map. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

A soft chuckle escaped me, more to break the tension than anything. “Yeah, just in case,” I said, picking up my phone and showing him the spotty reception. “Signal’s getting worse by the minute.”

Isaac barely looked at the screen, his response short. “I see.” Then he leaned back, resting his arm on the door, his hand coming up to shield part of his face. He stared out the window, lost in thought.

I didn’t push. He needed the quiet. The space. And if it meant he wasn’t spiraling, I’d take the silence.