Ren stood up, his joints popping from sitting still for so long. He looked at the door. The guards would be outside, but he knew the layout of this wing.

Still, even with this knowledge, he couldn’t slip out yet.

He stayed seated and even dropped his dog on the bed, resting as he watched Cilian’s chest rise and fall heavily, his guard extremely high as he waited for yet another clue from Cilian.

But none came. And with that, the sun began to set, casting long orange shadows into the walls of the dark room.

The room had grown cooler, and before Ren knew it, he had dozed off into a five-second nap.

As soon as he felt a little shift on the bed, he lifted his body in an instant, his eyes locked on Cilian, who had woken up.

Cilian’s eyes remained fixed on Ren, his breathing shallow, but the sharp, fox-like glint returning to his gaze.

He had woken up but didn’t say anything. Creepy bastard.

"You’re still here," Cilian whispered. His voice was dry, stripped of its usual melodic playfulness by the fever.

"I have nowhere else to go," Ren said, his voice cold and steady. He didn’t move from the edge of the bed. "And you owe me a name."

"Oh? Of who?" Cilian asked.

"Who is ’he’?" Ren asked, his eyes fixed sternly on Cilian’s. "Who are you trying to keep away?"

Cilian blinked slowly, a small, puzzled smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"He? My dear Ren, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you sure you didn’t have a dream during your little nap?"

"I heard you say it in your sleep," Ren snapped, his patience running thin. "You said, ’Keep him away.’ It looks like you were afraid." Or was worried the right way to put it?

In any case, he wasn’t his normal self.

Cilian let out a soft, airy chuckle that ended in a sharp wince. He shifted his weight, his good hand coming up to dismiss the claim with a flick of his wrist.

"I don’t talk in my sleep, Ren. I’m far too guarded for that, even in my dreams. You must have been hearing the wind in the vents. This old house likes to play tricks sometimes."

Ren’s jaw tightened. He felt the heat of anger rising in his chest. He knew what he had heard, but Cilian was already weaving his web of denials, smoothing over the cracks as if they never existed. It was infuriating, but Ren knew he couldn’t prove it.

"Fine," Ren hissed, leaning in closer, his shadow falling over Cilian’s pale face. "Then tell me something you can’t blame on the wind. Tell me who helped you destroy my family."

The fox-like smile finally faltered. For a second, the mask slipped, revealing a flicker of something heavy and dark. But it didn’t take a second for Cilian to pull his composure back up, his eyes curving into those familiar, mocking crescents.

"Now, now," Cilian hummed, his voice regaining a hint of its singing quality. "That’s a very heavy topic for someone who just woke up from surgery. Don’t you think we should talk about something lighter? Like what’s for dinner?"

Ren didn’t move. He glared at Cilian, his eyes burning with a fierce, uncompromising light. "Tell me. Who was the whistleblower?"

Cilian stayed silent. He didn’t flinch under Ren’s gaze. Instead, he turned his head away, staring out at the darkening gardens through the window. He seemed to be thinking, weighing the cost of the truth against the value of Ren’s sanity.

The silence stretched until Ren’s heart began to beat frantically against his ribs. He gripped the sheet, his knuckles white, wondering if Cilian was going to shut him out forever.

Finally, Cilian turned his head back. His expression was no longer playful. It was dropped into a low, dangerous tone that made the hair on Ren’s arms stand up.

"Do you really want to know, Ren?" Cilian hummed. "Do you really want to know the people who helped me run your world down?"

"Yes," Ren said, not hesitating for a heartbeat.

Cilian’s fingers twitched against the duvet, tracing a phantom pattern. "Even if it might tear you apart? Even if the truth is more jagged than the bullet you just pulled out of me?"

"Nothing," Ren said, leaning into Cilian’s space, his gaze fierce and unwavering. "Can tear me apart more than I already am. You did that years ago, Cilian. Now, give me the name."

Cilian searched Ren’s face for a long time. He seemed to be looking for a crack in the armor, but all he found was a boy who had finally decided to stop being a victim. He let out a sigh, a sound that was half-amused and half-pitying.

"Dennis." He said, and the name hit Ren like a physical blow. He felt the air leave his lungs.

"Dennis? My father’s advisor?" He asked, unable to believe it. "You’re joking, right?" He squeezed his grip on the bed. "He... he definitely died in a car accident."

"I might be a prankster, but not this time. He’s very much alive, Ren," Cilian said, his smile returning, though it was sharp as a razor. "Back then, he opened the gates."

How was that possible? Ren wondered.

"But I..." he gulped down. "I saw the report."

"Reports can be bought, Ren. Just like loyalty," Cilian mused, his voice airy despite the strain in his chest. He tilted his head, watching Ren’s color drain away. "He betrayed your father back then."

He spoke like it was a small matter.

"But I never saw him after that. I thought he died somewhere since he’s such a backstabber, but I have a hunch he’s far more comfortable than a dead man should be."

"What does that mean?" Ren asks, his face still struck with disbelief.

"My people have been hearing whispers—little bugs scurrying around the Mordecai estate, talking about a ’guest’ who knows all the Pierce secrets. It seems someone is very busy whispering about a black ledger I have absolutely no interest in."

Cilian’s fingers grazed the back of Ren’s hand, a touch light as a feather. "What? You don’t believe me?"

It wasn’t that Ren couldn’t believe him. He just... couldn’t. How could he? This was so much to take in.

"I’m telling you, your father’s dear advisor sold the blueprints to your father’s security just to get a seat at my table. And now he’s likely trying to sell the last survivor to the vampires for a piece of whatever they’re promising." He shook his head in ridicule. "He’s a greedy little cockroach, Ren. He probably thinks you’re his ticket back to the top."