Then I saw him.
Relief crashed through me so powerfully my knees actually buckled. Lo caught my elbow, steadying me as I stared across the chamber. Luka stood there—bruised jaw, dried blood on his shirt, exhaustion etched into his face—but gloriously, impossibly alive.
His eyes locked onto mine across the chamber, and beneath his carefully neutral expression, I caught the flash of raw emotion he couldn't quite suppress—relief, fear, and something naked and vulnerable that made my chest ache. I wanted to run to him, to touch him, to verify with my hands and mouth that he was real. Instead, I dug my nails into my palms until they nearly drew blood, forcing myself to stay put while every instinct screamed at me to cross the space between us.
Rhadamanthys sat in his obsidian throne, while the other two judges appeared on screens. The directors watched from their displays on the wall, a silent jury of assassins witnessing what could very well be Luka's last moments. The thought sent acid churning through my stomach.
Ana entered through another door, escorted by her own guards. She appeared smaller somehow, more fragile than when I'd first seen her at the funeral.
Minos rose on his screen, his face betraying nothing of the Tribunal's decision.
"Luka Aleksandar," he began, his voice echoing through the chamber. "You stand accused of killing Director Prometheus of the North American branch. The evidence presented regarding the circumstances of this action has been thoroughly examined."
"The Tribunal acknowledges the evidence presented regarding Director Prometheus's violations of the Pantheon Charter," Minos continued from his screen. "We find that these violations constitute grounds for posthumous censure and a full investigation of all his activities during his tenure."
"Regarding the matter of an appropriate sentence for Luka Aleksandar, who has admitted to killing a director," he continued, "the Tribunal has reached a unanimous decision."
My body went cold. The room faded around me until all I could see was Luka. My Luka. His shoulders squared with that stubborn pride that had stolen my heart despite everything. The soft curve of his mouth that could turn cruel or gentle in an instant. The hands that had killed so many yet touched me with such tenderness. This couldn't be the last time I saw him. It couldn't.
I hadn't realized I'd started forward until Lo's hand clamped around my wrist like a vise, holding me in place. My vision blurred with unshed tears. I wanted to scream, to beg, to offer myself in his place. I'd give anything—my career, my ethics, my life—just to see him walk out of this room alive.
"Therefore," Minos continued from his screen, "the Tribunal sentences Luka Aleksandar to assume full responsibility as Director of the North American branch, with the mandate to implement structural reforms that will prevent the abuses uncovered in this proceeding."
Relief exploded through me, followed immediately by confusion. Director? Not execution, not imprisonment, but promotion?
"These reforms," Aeacus added from her screen, her voice sharp as a scalpel, "will be conducted under the supervision of the Tribunal, with quarterly reviews of progress and structural changes. Any reversion to previous practices will result in immediate execution."
"In addition," Rhadamanthys concluded, his spurs clinking softly as he shifted in his throne, "Ana Aleksandar is hereby released from all Pantheon obligations and will be afforded protection as the sibling of a director."
"This judgment is unanimous and therefore absolute," Minos declared from his screen, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Remove the chains. Director Aleksandar will assume his position immediately."
Metal clanked against marble as the shackles fell from Luka's wrists and ankles. The sound broke whatever invisible restraint had been holding me in place. I shoved past Lo, past the Cerberus operatives who reached for their weapons, past protocol and propriety.
I crashed into Luka with enough force to make him stagger, my arms wrapping around him like I could somehow absorb him into my skin. His arms closed around me immediately, so tight I could barely breathe, and I didn't care. I buried my face against his neck, inhaling the scent of him, my tears soaking into his shirt collar.
"You're alive," I whispered against his skin, my voice breaking. "God, Luka, you're alive."
His hands moved to cup my face, tilting it up to his. His eyes were suspiciously bright, his throat working as he swallowed whatever emotion threatened to overwhelm him.
"I love you," he said, the words raw and unfiltered. "I fucking love you,Vincent."
Then his mouth was on mine, desperate and hungry and brutal. Nothing like the careful, controlled kisses we'd shared before. This was primal, messy, all teeth and tongue and need. I tasted blood, though I couldn't tell if it was his or mine, and couldn't bring myself to care. I kissed him back just as fiercely, my hands fisting in his hair, my body trying to press closer even though no space remained between us.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, I realized the entire chamber had fallen silent. Directors, judges, operatives—all watching with varying degrees of shock at this brazen display. I should have been mortified. Instead, I felt a savage satisfaction. Let them see. Let them know exactly what they'd almost taken from me. From us.
Luka's eyes never left mine, the ghost of a smile playing at his bloodied lips. "Director Aleksandar now," he murmured, just for me. "How do you feel about dating the boss?"
I choked out a laugh that was a half sob. "As your therapist, I'd call it an ethics violation." I pressed my forehead against his. "As the man who just thought he was going to watch you die, I'd call it a fucking miracle."
As we left the Tribunal chamber, Rhadamanthys appeared at Luka's side, his spurs singing softly against the marble. "A moment, Director Aleksandar?"
Luka stopped and Rhadamanthys moved closer.
"Your evidence about Prometheus killing Apollo has broader implications," Rhadamanthys began, his Calabrian accent thickening as he lowered his voice. "It connects to a pattern I've been tracking for some time."
Luka's posture remained wary. "What pattern?"
"Two directors have disappeared in the last eight months alone. Both after proposing changes that threatened established power structures. Triton questioned recruitment practices inOceania—vanished without a trace, replaced by Poseidon. Apollo suggested limiting unchecked authority within the organization—eliminated by Prometheus, replaced by Helios."
