7. Sebastian
7
Sebastian
A soft rustle of pages and the hum of magical wards filled the sprawling library at MAGIIC HQ. Sebastian sat alone at a corner table, his posture precise as he sifted through stacks of ledger copies. The dim light from enchanted sconces cast a warm glow over the faded ink and meticulously drawn columns, but nothing could soften the weight of his thoughts.
His uncle’s expression at dinner from a few nights ago hovered in the back of his mind—a fleeting crack in an otherwise impenetrable facade. It had been subtle, but Sebastian knew his family well enough to recognize discomfort when he saw it. And that discomfort had led him here, combing through documents most of his relatives wouldn’t have the patience to read.
He tapped a finger against the edge of one page, his sharp gaze catching a line that didn’t sit right. Another payment marked “L.M.” The initials had shown up several times already, each tied to a sum too large to be casual but too vague to be explained. The notes offered little clarification, with phrases like “consultation” and “specialized service” filling in where legitimate details should’ve been.
Sebastian frowned, the unease coiling tighter in his chest. This wasn’t the first irregularity he’d found in the ledgers. For years, the Blackthorn family accounts had maintained a veneer of respectability, but beneath the surface, threads of something darker had always lingered. His work as an archivist had revealed cracks in that image before, but this? This was different.
He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his dark hair as his mind worked to connect the dots. Silas’s reaction at dinner wasn’t coincidence, and the more he studied these ledgers, the more certain Sebastian became that his uncle was involved in something he didn’t want uncovered. The timing—these payments coinciding with the surge in rogue mage activity and the mysterious fires—wasn’t something he could ignore.
His silver-gray eyes flicked to the clock across the room, its steady tick a reminder of how long he’d been at this. Hours had passed, and the ache in his shoulders was beginning to demand attention. Yet he couldn’t stop. If there was even a chance these payments tied back to the fires, ARC needed to know.
But how much should he share?
Sebastian’s hand stilled on the page as hesitation crept in. Revealing too much risked implicating his family—a prospect he wasn’t ready to face. And yet, withholding information could endanger the mission. The tension in his jaw tightened as he leaned forward again, his focus narrowing back to the ledgers.
One thing was clear: whatever “L.M.” stood for, it was tied to something much larger than a simple business deal.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, staring at the cryptic “L.M.” entries as though the letters might rearrange themselves into answers if he willed it hard enough. A low hum from the magical wards lining the library filled the silence around him, but it did nothing to ease the tightening coil in his chest. He ran a hand down his face, the edges of his polished composure starting to fray.
On the other side of the room, Dante's muttering broke the stillness. The man was hunched over a chaotic stack of texts, frustration rolling off him in waves. He flipped a page with more force than necessary, and Sebastian caught a muttered curse.
A smirk tugged at Sebastian’s lips despite himself. Trust Dante to approach research like a physical battle.
Gathering the ledgers, Sebastian stood. He stopped just short of His table, noting the scorch marks marring the edges of one of the books in the pile.
Sebastian set the ledgers down hard enough that Dante glanced up, his amber eyes narrowing.
“Hard at work, I see,” Sebastian said with amusement.
Dante leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “If by ‘hard at work,’ you mean stuck doing something that feels like banging my head against a wall, then sure.”
Sebastian raised a brow, pulling out a chair and sliding into it. “Maybe this will help,” he said, nudging the ledgers forward.
His gaze flicked to the ledger and back to Sebastian, arms crossing over his chest. “And what am I looking at?”
“My family’s ledger,” Sebastian said. “There are payments tied to entities I can’t identify. I thought they might interest you.”
“Convenient,” Dante said, skepticism lacing his voice. “You just happened to stumble across some family dirt and decided to play whistleblower?”
Sebastian’s expression didn’t falter. “I’m here to help, not absolve my family of whatever role they may—or may not—have played. These payments could be important.”
Dante leaned forward, the glow of the warded lamps catching the fire in his eyes. “Could be,” he repeated, his tone sharp. “Sounds a lot like you’re hedging.”
Sebastian held his gaze. “I’m giving you everything I have. If it’s not enough, I suggest we find more.”
Dante exhaled, the heat in his stance not quite cooling. “Fine. But if this blows up, don’t expect me to defend you when your family starts pointing fingers.”
Sebastian inclined his head, his lips quirking. “Noted. Shall we?” He gestured toward the ledger, waiting as Dante reluctantly leaned in to examine it.
The two worked in charged silence, the air between them humming with unspoken challenges. If Sebastian noticed the occasional sideways glance Dante sent his way, he didn’t comment, his focus on the task at hand.
***
Dante
The charged silence of their earlier work carried into the narrow confines of the stacks. Dante trailed a step behind Sebastian, his mind churning as he tried to piece together the implications of the ledgers. Aged paper and ink filled the air, but it did little to soothe the gnawing unease coiling in his chest.
Sebastian paused, pulling a slim volume from a shelf. “You’re uncharacteristically quiet,” he said.
Dante crossed his arms, leaning a shoulder against one of the shelves. “Just trying to figure out what’s real and what’s smoke.”
Sebastian glanced at him, the faintest arch of an elegant brow. “Smoke?”
“You’ve told me everything you know,” Dante said, the edge in his tone making it clear he didn’t fully believe it. “But you don’t get to act surprised if I still have doubts. Your family’s not exactly known for playing clean.”
Sebastian’s fingers tightened on the book he held before he turned, his silver-gray eyes narrowing. “And that’s my fault? Last I checked, I’m the one bringing these ledgers to light, not hiding them under a rug.”
Dante straightened, the simmering frustration from earlier sparking again. “Yeah, but how do I know you’re not keeping just enough back to save face when this all blows up?”
Sebastian exhaled, stepping closer, his composure cracking just enough to let a sliver of irritation through. “Do you honestly think I’d risk pulling my family into this if I had something to hide?”
“Maybe,” Dante shot back. “Because even if you don’t want to admit it, you still have something to lose.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened, the book still clutched in his hand. He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re too polished for your own good,” Dante growled, refusing to back down. “You’re not ARC. You’re not a fighter. You’re a consultant playing detective in a war zone.”
His smirk was sharper now, like a blade catching light. “Yet here I am, standing in the same firestorm. Funny how that works.”
Dante opened his mouth for another retort but faltered as Sebastian leaned in just enough to invade his space. The air between them tightened, the steady hum of the library’s wards fading under the crackle of unspoken tension.
“Tell me, Dante,” Sebastian murmured. “If you really thought I was useless, why are you still here?”
Dante bristled, his arms uncrossing as heat flickered at his fingertips. “Because I don’t trust you. And that means keeping you close.”
Sebastian’s smirk softened, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. “Fair enough. But maybe next time, try channeling that trust issue into something productive.”
The words weren’t loud, but they echoed in the tight space of the stacks. For a moment, Dante stared, unsure whether to snap back or step away. Instead, he said, “I’ll keep that in mind,” and turned to scan the shelves, hoping the sudden thrum of his pulse wasn’t as obvious as it felt.
Dante stared at the rows of books in front of him, their worn spines doing little to hold his attention. He shifted, the confined space between the stacks pressing in as he reached for another title without really looking at it. His back was to Sebastian, but the man’s presence felt too close, like a storm gathering just behind him.
The soft scrape of shoes against the floor warned him a moment too late. Sebastian stepped closer, his measured calm a sharp contrast to the heat simmering in His chest.
“You really don’t trust me, do you?” Sebastian asked.
Dante didn’t turn around, his hands tightening on the edge of the shelf. “Not as far as I can throw you.”
“Practical,” Sebastian murmured. “But exhausting, I imagine.”
Dante bristled, his shoulders tense as he scanned the titles in front of him. “What do you want, Blackthorn?”
“Perspective,” Sebastian said, leaning in closer. Dante stiffened as a breath of air ghosted against his neck. “And maybe to remind you that this investigation works better with cooperation.”
The confined space amplified every sound, every movement, as Sebastian reached past Dante. The brush of his arm against His sent a jolt through him, a charge he felt down to his fingertips. He froze, his breathing sharp as Sebastian’s hand settled on a book just inches away.
“You’re in my space,” Dante muttered.
“Am I?” Sebastian didn’t move, his chest just barely grazing against his back. “You’ve got all this fire, Dante, but you’re not very good at keeping it in check.”
Dante swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the shelf. “And you’re not very good at reading the room.”
Sebastian chuckled, the sound too close, too knowing. “Careful. You might give me the wrong idea.”
Dante turned his head just enough to shoot him a glare, his amber eyes sparking. “Move.”
Sebastian didn’t reply, his hand lingering on the book before he pulled it free. His smirk softened into something unreadable as he finally stepped back, the tension snapping like a wire stretched too far.
Dante spun around the moment Sebastian stepped back, his frustration boiling over into sharp words. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Is this some kind of game to you?”
Sebastian tilted his head, the smirk on his lips softening but not disappearing entirely. The book in his hand seemed forgotten, his focus entirely on Dante. “A game?” His voice was calm, smooth like polished glass. “I didn’t realize you thought so highly of my imagination.”
“Don’t toy with me,” Dante snapped, taking a step forward. His pulse was still racing, heat flickering at the edges of his magic.
“Toy?” Sebastian echoed, his gaze locked on His. He stepped closer, slow, and unwavering. The shelves boxed them in on either side, and as Sebastian advanced, Dante instinctively shifted back, his broad shoulders skimming against the cold wood.
“I wouldn’t,” Sebastian continued, carrying an unmistakable edge. “But if I did, you’d know.”
Dante swallowed hard, the heat in his chest rising to meet the sudden chill down his spine. He wasn’t small, wasn’t used to being physically dwarfed by anyone, but something about Sebastian’s calm confidence was…unnerving. “Is that right?”
Sebastian pressed closer, caging Dante between his arms. “Very.”
The word came out almost a whisper, and Dante froze, his pulse quickening. He was uncomfortably aware of Sebastian’s presence—the controlled heat radiating from him, the measured stillness that was somehow more intimidating than motion.
“You’re too close,” Dante said breathily.
Sebastian tilted his head, his silver-gray eyes gleaming like a fox who’d cornered a rabbit. “Am I?”
His hand came up, reaching for a shelf just above his head, and His breath hitched as Sebastian leaned even closer.
His fingers twitched, gripping the shelf’s edges behind him. “This is dangerous.”
Sebastian didn’t move back, his head dipping, the space between them vanishing. Every nerve in his body braced for a kiss.
Instead, Sebastian’s lips curved. “But I don’t think you’re ready for my kind of danger.”
The words lingered between them, heavy and sharp, before Sebastian finally stepped away. With a casualness that only made the moment feel more surreal, Sebastian held up the book he’d retrieved. “We’ll pick this up later.”
Dante didn’t respond—couldn’t. His body felt locked in place, his pulse roaring in his ears as Sebastian turned and strode away with that infuriating air of composure.
Left standing alone, Dante exhaled, his hands curling into fists as he stared at the space Sebastian had just occupied. His chest felt tight, his thoughts tangled in a mess of irritation, confusion, and something he refused to name.
For the briefest moment, he considered chasing after him—demanding answers, clarity, anything to untangle the knot Sebastian had left behind. But those thoughts died as quickly as they came, leaving only one truth burning in the back of his mind: Sebastian Blackthorn was dangerous in ways Dante hadn’t prepared for.