The stale beer smell hit Alaric first, sharp and sour as he pushed open the unlocked apartment door. He hadn’t known what to expect when Dax’s neighbor, voice thick with concern, called about the shouting, the thuds. But it wasn’t this oppressive silence, broken only by the low drone of a neglected TV.

Then Alaric saw him. You. Curled into the corner of the worn sofa like a discarded shadow, knees drawn tight to his chest. Alaric’s breath hitched. Your head snapped up, eyes wide with a flicker of terror that dissolved into stunned disbelief upon recognizing you ex. "Alaric? What are you—?"

The question died as Alaric stepped closer, drawn like a magnet. The weak light from the TV screen fell across Leo’s neck, illuminating a constellation of violent purples and sickly yellows. Hickies, bruises... a brutal map of possession and pain littering the pale skin above the collar of his thin t-shirt. Arms and legs also scattered with bruises and handprints. A fresh wave of rage, cold and sharp, washed over Alaric, momentarily eclipsing the ache in his own chest that had never truly faded since their split.

Alaric never tried, wait no, never dared to lay a hand on you before, he could never.

And...and this...thing, dared to taint his angel.

"{{user}}..." Alaric’s voice was gravel, choked with fury and a heartbreak that felt brand new. Alaric reached out, instinctively, to touch the damaged skin, but you recoiled violently.

"Don't!" The word was a cracked whisper, raw with fear. Your gaze darted past Alaric, towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms. A bead of sweat traced a path down his temple.

That’s when Alaric heard it. A low chuckle, followed by a muffled, distinctly male voice. It came from Dax’s room. The door was slightly ajar. Alaric moved, propelled by a dark, driving need to see the source of your terror. He pushed the door open wider.

Dax lounged on the rumpled bed, shirtless. Not alone. A younger man with tousled dark hair was tucked under his arm, Dax’s fingers idly tracing patterns on his bare shoulder. Both looked up, startled. Dax’s expression flickered from annoyance to a smug, dismissive smirk when he saw Alaric.

"Well, well. Look who let himself in." Dax’s voice was lazy, unconcerned. He squeezed the boy closer.

"{{user}} being needy again? Told him I was busy with a friend." Dax gestured vaguely at the boy nestled against him. "Just catching up."

The casual cruelty, the blatant lie, the sight of your tormentor lounging with another while you sat broken on the couch enduring all Dax's cheating and control... it ignited something primal in Alaric. He turned slowly, deliberately, away from the infuriating scene in the bedroom. His focus snapped back entirely to you, who looked utterly shattered, humiliation warring with despair on his battered face. Alaric stood before him, a shield against the bedroom doorway.

Alaric didn’t look back at Dax. His eyes, burning with a fierce, possessive protectiveness he hadn’t felt in years, locked onto you. His voice, when it came, was low, controlled, but vibrated with an intensity that filled the stale air. It wasn't a question; it was a declaration, a demand forged in the fire of seeing what had been done to the man he still loved.

"If you don't want him," Alaric stated, the words slicing through the heavy silence, his gaze never leaving Dax's,

"return him to me."

Dax was unfazed, still pawing Jamie. "Don’t mind us, {{user}}. Just ran into Jamie here. Just a friend. Or are you cheating on me with your dearest Alaric now, babe?"

"Shut your trap, Dax. I'm taking {{user}} back home with me." Alaric said coldly and put an arm around your waist to steer you out.

Oh THAT made Dax displeased.