"What are you willing to become to survive tonight, boy?"

One question changed Lucian’s life into something far from anything he had ever known. No, it wasn’t all sunshine and butterflies. It wasn’t even close.

But it was a question he asked himself once again, years later.

What was he willing to become to survive?

Lucian walked quietly toward the bed and stopped beside it. His expression was as cold as it could be — no emotion, nothing in his eyes. Nothing other than a quiet emptiness and one question turning over in his mind.

What had he become to survive?

Or rather, how far was he willing to go to keep everything from falling apart?

"Hah."

His thoughts stilled at the quiet laugh from the person on the bed.

Lucian blinked slowly, staring at the woman lying weakly before him. Her complexion was pale, her skin more wrinkled than he remembered from that night. She didn’t look as terrifying anymore.

"You came," came her weak, hoarse voice.

She lifted her hand, which he took before it could fall on its own. The old woman lay there, watching him sit beside the bed. Her eyes moved over him, the corners of her lips curling with a mix of bitterness and pride.

"How... I wish... I had killed you that night," she said without fear, even with her life on the brink. "I made a mistake."

Her breathing grew labored, but she kept her grip on his hand. It looked like a touching moment between a mother and son. Both of them knew better.

If she were stronger — or perhaps a little younger — she would have pulled him close and snapped his neck. But she could no longer do that.

How could she?

"You..." she breathed out. "... my biggest mistake."

His expression didn’t change. Cold. Detached. Eyes fixed on her face.

"I shouldn’t have..." she gasped. "... taken you in."

Lucian still didn’t react. He set her hand down gently beside her.

"You shouldn’t have," he said finally, reaching for the small pillow on the chair beside him. "Or rather, you shouldn’t have asked me that question."

Slowly, he rose and leaned down to look at her.

"What am I willing to become to survive?" He repeated the question he would never forget. "Because every night I hear it in my head, the answer only gets clearer."

"It was Dominion," he nodded, letting her know. Taking all of it as his own: the power, the weight of its name, the resources, the wealth — everything — to stand above it all, where no one could touch him.

The old woman scoffed weakly. "None of this... is ever yours. Even if you kill me."

A quiet smile turned up on his face, quite out of place against the emptiness swirling in his eyes.

"Good night, Madam," he hummed. "I’ll keep that garden of yours."

And just like that, he carefully placed the pillow over her face and pressed down as hard as he could. She struggled — barely — too weak to save herself.

Once she stopped moving, Lucian quietly pulled the pillow away.

There she was. Eyes still wide, mouth open.

He reached down, his finger hovering beneath her nose. Then he checked her pulse. There was none.

"See?" he whispered. "It wasn’t that hard, was it?"

He moved his hand and closed her eyes. He stared at her without expression, then sat back down in the chair, setting the pillow aside as casually as if nothing had happened.

As if no one were dead on the bed, he leaned back, crossed one leg over the other, and pulled out his phone.

"Prepare for a funeral," he said as soon as the line connected. "And call the members of the board."

He paused, eyes glinting as they cut to the bed.

"Tell them the new Don of Dominion is calling for them."

*****

Lucian had only asked himself that question one more time, and it was that night.

He had known, even then, that he only asked it again so the person who had made him this way would understand. So he could send her off with that regret fully cemented.

Who would’ve thought he would have to ask it again, like a curse revisiting him?

But this time, the stakes were higher than the hollow reasons he had carried that night.

GASP!

Lucian’s eyes snapped open as he lurched awake. On instinct, he reached for the person he felt near his throat. But just as he did, a pair of hands caught his and pressed them down firmly at his sides.

"It’s me!" came Ashley’s voice. "Don’t kill me."

His eyes darted, his breathing ragged. He blinked several times until her face came into focus, hovering above him.

Curiosity and worry were plain in her eyes, her brows drawn tightly together.

"Lucian, it’s me," she said again, her voice softer this time. "It’s me."

A sharp exhale left him. "Sorry."

Ashley didn’t dwell on it. Her eyes moved carefully over his face. When she finally let go of his hands, she reached up and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat there.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she straightened, and he sat up.

Lucian swallowed. He watched her reach for the glass of water on the bedside table and hold it out to him. He drank it in one go, then exhaled heavily.

Even as he calmed and collected himself, the curiosity in Ashley’s eyes hadn’t faded.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head. "But you were..."

She trailed off, remembering how she had woken to Lucian grunting in his sleep — like he was in pain, sweat soaking through him.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked quietly. "It seems like a really horrible dream. I thought you were dying."

Lucian pressed his lips into a thin line and set the glass back on the bedside table. He drew one knee up and rested his arm on it.

"Mhm," he hummed. "But it’s just a dream."

It was, but he had looked like he was in real pain when she was trying to wake him. Before she could find the words, Lucian reached out.

His expression was softer now, his thumb brushing her cheek.

"It’s nothing," he said. "If anything, it’s a good sign. A dream means I was sleeping."

Better than the stretches where he went days without sleep at all.

Ashley opened her mouth to argue, to say something, to let him know she was worried. But as he said, it was just a dream. A very bad one, maybe.

In the end, she sighed and nodded.

"Come. Sleep some more." He tugged her arm gently and lay back down, settling her against him.

Lucian patted her back, stroking it softly with his fingertips as he eased her back to sleep. Ashley stayed awake a little longer, but eventually drifted off.

As for him?

He stayed up, unable to sleep, eyes fixed on the woman in his arms. Only one thought turned over in his mind.

"Should I..." he trailed off, running his tongue along his inner cheek. "... just burn Dominion down?"