Page 38 of Mafia King

“Lights,” he says, voice flat and carrying.

The smart system responds at once. Soft overhead lamps bloom across the living room.

Theo spins, eyes wide, hands flying up.

“Please don’t shoot—” The words come out in a tight, frightened rush.

Nikolai immediately drops the pistol to his side, flicks the safety on, and sets it on the nearest side table with deliberate calm.

“It’s all right,” Nikolai says. “You’re safe. For now.”

Theo’s chest rises and falls hard. He is wearing only the soft sleep shirt Nikolai left folded for him earlier. His legs are bare, feet silent on the rug.

The earlier Little softness is gone, replaced by the sharp, assessing alertness he has seen in the boy before.

“What were you doing?” Nikolai asks. The question is even, without accusation.

The boy meets his eyes with a calm, controlled defiance.

“I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. I decided to have a look around. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The candor is clean.

No elaborate excuse, no attempt to hide.

Nikolai studies Theo for another second and finds nothing that sets off further warning. He nods once…

“Come. Glass of milk. One each,” Nikolai says, more than a hint of warmth in his voice.

They walk together into the kitchen. Nikolai pours cold milk into two heavy tumblers and hands one to the boy. They stand at the island, the gun left behind in the living room, the house once again quiet around them.

Theo drinks slowly. Color begins to return to his face.

“I understand if you’re scared,” Nikolai says after a moment. “After what I told you earlier about the kind of life I lead.”

Theo looks down into his glass, then back up.

“It’s a lot to take in. But I’m cool with it. I think,” he says. The words are careful, honest enough as far as Nikolai can tell.

Nikolai reaches across the small distance between them and lets the tips of his fingers brush Theo’s. The contact is light, almost nothing, yet something steady moves through it—an unexpected recognition.

Nikolai has spent years reading people for threat or use. With Theo the reading keeps shifting…

The submissive softness he shows him sits beside a sharper core he has only begun to map. In that moment Nikolai senses they are more alike than he had previously considered: both of them carrying hidden edges, both of them surviving by knowing when to yield and when to hold the line.

Nikolai withdraws his hand only far enough to take another swallow of milk.

“It’s time to go back to bed,” Nikolai says. “Get some sleep before dawn. But this time you sleep with me.”

Theo’s cheeks color. He nods once, the motion small and submissive, eyes lowered for a heartbeat before he looks up again.

Nikolai takes his empty glass, sets both in the sink, and retrieves the pistol on the way past the living room.

Together they climb the wide staircase. The house settles behind them into true silence once more, the earlier tension dissolving into the quieter weight of two people who have chosen—at least for tonight—to share the same dark.

12

THEO