Chapter 40
The Black Hole was its usual self; dim, sticky, loud, and smelling faintly of stale beer and fried food.
but today it felt different. The air buzzed with tension, curiosity, and the low hum of conversations that paused whenever someone glanced their way.
Rain could feel the emotional static of the room brushing against his skin like static electricity.
Their group was crammed into a corner booth, the cracked leather seats sticking to their legs, the table littered with half-empty glasses and the remnants of shared chips. The neon sign above the bar flickered intermittently, casting the room in pulses of purple light.
“Locked away? Like… in a prison cell?” Jasmine asked, leaning in over the sticky table, her eyes wide and unblinking.
Rain shook his head slowly.
“No. In towers. A prison cell would probably be kinder.”
The table fell silent.
“Drazier had his own children locked away in three separate towers,” Rain continued, voice low, steady, but edged with disbelief. “Isolated. Malnourished. Neglected. You wouldn’t believe the state the younger ones were in. They were living among their own faeces. Gods know how often they were fed.”
He swallowed, the memory still raw.
“Scarlet; the eldest, she’s Pyro-forged. Fire shoots from the chest. Her entire room was blackened to charcoal. No life. No colour. Just… ash.”
Emily’s face twisted. “And they were locked in there? They couldn’t leave? No visitors?”
“Absolutely abandoned,” Rain said. “One of them was better cared for, but even she wasn’t safe from her guards. I dread to think what would’ve happened to them if I hadn’t been sent.”
“Wow,” Sean muttered, shaking his head as he sipped his pint. “The Red King is a shitty parent.”
“Major understatement,” Daphne added. “Honestly, I’m starting to wonder if any of the Royals are good people.”
Rain and Snow exchanged a look; a shared flicker of hurt, before Rain forced a laugh.
“Thanks, Daph.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, my Gods, no—I didn’t mean you two. Sorry. It’s just… insane.”
Rain nodded.
“It is. And you’re not wrong. Many, if not most, royals are corrupt. For a long time, I resented myself for it. I resented being an heir. I thought I was doomed to become my father; vindictive, cruel and power-hungry.”
He looked around the table, meeting each of their eyes.
“But I realise now that isn’t true. I want to be better. I want to be a King you can all be proud of.”
Wren exhaled softly. “It’s hard to imagine you being the Blue King.”
Jay nodded, chewing his lip, eyes fixed on the table.
Snow cleared her throat, steering them back before the air grew too heavy.
“So let me get this straight,” she said. “Father sends you to collect ‘something’ from the outskirts of Burgundy—deep in Red territory—with no instructions except to bring it back. Meanwhile, his army attacks the south as a distraction.”
“Yep,” Rain said, taking a sip of his drink. “That’s how it was presented.”
“And you find out you’re retrieving a single unknown female,” Snow continued, “at the request of someone from the Red court.”
Rain nodded.
Snow frowned. “Father barely tolerates Raymon. He despises everything about the Red Kingdom. No offence,” she added to Wren and Jay.
“None taken,” Wren said dryly. “The feeling is mutual.”
Snow pressed on.
“Then you get there and find the four Red princesses locked away in towers like damsels in distress. Obviously, your hero complex kicked in, and direct orders went out of the window.”
Rain smirked. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Snow echoed, rolling her eyes affectionately. “And I know you wouldn’t return them to Father. So… where are they?”
“They’re somewhere safe,” Rain said simply.
He wasn’t giving more than that. Not here. Not with so many ears around them.
Jay’s hand inched closer on the table.
“Isn’t your dad going to be angry you didn’t bring back the princess he wanted?”
“He will be,” Rain admitted.
He shifted his arm, offering Jay his open palm. Jay hesitated, then took it, lacing their fingers together. Rain’s chest loosened.
“But I think I can rectify it,” Rain continued. “The Red informant offered something in exchange for the eldest princess. If I offer Father the same thing, he won’t care about the girls. He’ll use the situation to fuel Red hatred and justify his war.”
Snow narrowed her eyes.
“What will you have to do for him?”
Rain smiled too brightly.
“Something I’m more than happy to take care of.”
Snow didn’t buy it.
Her vibrant green eyes sharpened.
Jay leaned forward. “I wish there was a way to expose Drazier for neglecting his daughters. It doesn’t seem right for everyone to hate you. We should be celebrating you. Thanking you. Maybe even get King Drazier to abdicate sooner.”
“It’s okay,” Rain said softly. “I’m used to the heat. And don’t worry; his reign will end soon enough.”
Snow slapped his bicep.
Hard.
“No, you are not!” she snapped.
She slapped him again. Rain lifted his arm to shield himself.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m serious, Rain! If you think I’m going to let you do something so—so stupid, so reckless, so dangerous—then you have a reality check coming your way.”
She huffed back into her seat, glaring daggers at him.
Rain rubbed his arm, wincing.
The team stared between them, wide-eyed.
“What is she talking about?” Jay asked cautiously.
“Nothing,” Rain snapped, shooting Snow a warning glare before turning back to her. “Meet the princesses first. I guarantee you’ll change your tune.”
“I highly doubt that,” she huffed, arms crossing over her chest like a barricade.
Rain exhaled sharply.
“Okay, that’s enough sharing from me today. I’m tired and we—”
He tugged Jay’s hand toward him and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles.
“—need to talk before we head home.”
Jay flushed instantly, his emotions spiking with dread at the phrase we need to talk. It was painfully cute. Rain hoped there wouldn’t be much talking at all.
He pulled Jay from the booth, walking backwards between the tables, eyes locked on him in a teasing, flirtatious challenge. The dim bar lights flickered over them, casting Jay’s cheeks in warm gold as Rain tugged him around the corner, out of sight.
The moment they were alone, Rain grabbed him and kissed him.
Jay melted—completely—hands splaying across Rain’s chest, body softening into him like he’d been waiting for this all day. Rain moaned, sliding his hands down to Jay’s ass and pulling him flush against him.
Jay squeaked and broke the kiss, breathless.
“I thought we were going to talk?” he panted, pushing lightly at Rain’s chest.
“We could,” Rain murmured, leaning in again, “or we could do this instead.”
He kissed him again, but Jay didn’t kiss back.
Rain froze.
“Or… not,” he said, confusion tightening his brow as Jay’s energy skittered wildly between longing, fear, guilt, and something darker.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just… I can’t help but feel like we shouldn’t be doing this,” Jay blurted, the words tumbling out before he could swallow them.
“Kissing?” Rain asked, stepping back, dread curling in his stomach. He already knew that wasn’t the real issue.
“No. Yes. Maybe.” Jay scrubbed a hand over his face. Rain let out a nervous huff of laughter.
“What I mean is—earlier today I was so angry. I felt like you’d tricked me into falling for you. I convinced myself this was all a lie, and you were exactly who I thought you were before I met you.”
Rain’s chest tightened painfully.
“I know you’re not,” Jay continued quickly. “You explained where you were. And now I feel like the worst boyfriend in the world because I should trust you.”
“It’s okay,” Rain said softly. “I understand why you felt that way. I don’t blame you for thinking the worst of me. I’ve done… a lot of bad things.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets to stop himself from reaching for Jay again.
“But I should trust you,” Jay whispered.
Rain’s heart dropped into his stomach.
“You don’t trust me?” he croaked, searching Jay’s baby-blue eyes—eyes that had always felt like home—for something solid to hold onto.
“Rain… you are good. Righteous. Justified in everything you do. I trust you with my life.” Jay reached up, brushing his thumb over Rain’s cheek, right where his dimples appeared when he smirked.
“But I can’t keep living in a daydream,” Jay said, voice cracking. “We need to be realistic. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to marry someone else. Julian called me your mortal toy boy and that’s all I’ll ever be. For how long?”
Rain stepped closer, desperate to close the distance.
“You shouldn’t listen to Julian. He says things to get under your skin.”
Rain braced an arm against the wall above Jay’s head, leaning in, trying to anchor them both in the tiny pocket of space between their bodies.
“I don’t know what the future holds,” he said softly, voice trembling despite his effort to sound steady. “And maybe it’s selfish of me to feel this way, but I love you. I want you.”
Jay inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for Rain, to pull him close, to bury his face in his neck and pretend none of this was happening.
But he didn’t.
“You say that so easily,” Jay whispered, voice thin and fraying at the edges. “But can you really promise me anything?”
Rain opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
The silence between them stretched, heavy and suffocating. Jay’s eyes softened — not with comfort, but with resignation. Acceptance. A quiet surrender that made Rain’s stomach twist.
“No,” Jay said, barely audible. “You can’t. Whatever this is… ends with me getting hurt.”
Rain’s pulse hammered so hard it felt like it might crack his ribs.
“I thought you said you trusted me.”
“I trust you with my life,” Jay said, voice trembling. “But I can’t trust you with my heart. And that means I’m always going to question everything.”
He swallowed, eyes darting away for a moment; toward the bar, toward the booth where a couple sat, watching them with a tight jaw and folded arms.
“And Wren’s right,” Jay added quietly. “We set ourselves up for heartbreak.”
Rain’s breath caught.
There it was.
The subtle shift.
The echo of someone else’s fear lodged inside Jay’s voice.
He didn’t call it out.
He couldn’t.
Not now.
Rain looked away, his hand falling limply to his side, fingers curling uselessly.
“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.
It was pathetic.
It was all he could manage.
The world shrank around him, the air thickening like wet cement. His heart raced so fast it hurt, a frantic, panicked rhythm he couldn’t slow. His palms grew slick. His throat tightened.
He dared a glance at Jay.
Tears brimmed in Jay’s eyes; shimmering, fragile and completely devastating.
Fuck.
He really was breaking up with him.
Rain felt it; the reluctant resolution seeping from Jay’s aura.
The grief.
The certainty.
The way Jay’s heart was breaking too, but he was still choosing to walk away.
Long before Jay could speak the words, Rain knew.
He didn’t want to hear them.
He couldn’t.
The tables and chairs around them rattled violently as Rain turned and walked away; not running, not storming, just… leaving. Like a man walking out of a burning building he didn’t realise he’d set on fire.
He refused to look back at the face he wanted to beg for.
To beg him to stay.
To choose him.
But he was going to be
King one day.
And Kings don’t beg.
Especially not for a lost cause.
“Rain, what happened? You’re projecting your powers!” Snow called after him.
He ignored her and the heart-shredding sob that escaped Jay’s lips as Rain walked out.
The cruel midday sun hit him like a slap, warming skin that suddenly felt hollow. He paced down the street, needing distance, needing air, needing anything but the crushing weight in his chest.
Snow jogged after him, grabbing his hand. His empathic channels snapped shut instantly. She exhaled in relief as those around them stopped mirroring his agony.
She didn’t speak.
She just held his hand tightly and walked beside him; like she had a thousand times before when his world had fallen apart.
They walked in silence all the way to the safe house.
Rain stopped at the driveway, staring blankly at the front door.
“Can you keep your hand on me until I fall asleep?” he asked quietly.
Snow nodded, her expression softening with understanding.
He didn’t trust himself and he couldn’t risk exposing the princesses to his grief.
He inhaled deeply, pulling the pain inward, compressing it into a tight knot in his chest until the air around him stopped trembling. The garden bushes stilled, grateful for the reprieve.
“It’ll be ok,” Snow murmured. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
Henry opened the door, smiling; until he saw their faces. Confusion flickered across his features, but he didn’t ask. He simply stepped aside.
Rain collapsed onto the nearest bed, boots still on, clothes still dusty. He clung to Snow’s hand like it was the only thing tethering him to the world.
She climbed onto the bed beside him, leaning against the headboard. Rain pulled her hand to his chest, hugging it like a child clinging to a comfort toy.
Snow stroked his hair gently, brushing it from his face.
Rain closed his eyes, focusing on the rhythm of her fingers.
He didn’t let himself think.
If he thought, he’d feel.
And if he felt…
He might not come back from it.