Page 109 of A Mistake of Worth
The air felt thinner when they were gone.
Jacob entered a moment later with a folded shirt draped over his arm. He set it neatly on the back of Gabriel’s chair. Gabriel peeled off the towel at his shoulders, water still dripping down his chest, and tugged the shirt on without a word.
He sat down without any of the polish Michael was used to seeing, only the grim stillness of an older brother who had no idea how to help.
At Nika’s quiet call, Alain moved toward the desk. The glow of the laptop washed over their faces as Jaheel Sabato’s name and feeds filled the screen. Scrolls of podcasts, viewer metrics, and links to investigations lined the display, the numbers climbing.
“This isn’t some blogger,” Nika said, voice tight with conviction. “This is reach. His audience dwarfs those of some networks.”
Alain leaned in, muttering, “Marc won’t be able to buy him. Not this one.”
Michael only half-heard them. Henri was still in his arms, curled tight. Every so often, Henri twitched as though he meant to pull back, but Michael only tightened his hold.
“Don’t,” he murmured, quiet enough for Henri alone. His hand stroked slow circles down his back. “Stay with me.”
Henri shuddered, pressing his face harder into Michael’s chest. His voice came muffled, broken. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
Michael bent his head, tears stinging as he whispered back. “I thought of nothing else. And I don’t want to let go.”
Henri shook against him. “I can’t stay. You know I can’t.”
“You don’t have to go back,” Michael said, firm enough to make Henri look up.
“I do.” Henri’s voice cracked. “If I don’t, David will pay for it.”
Michael brushed his thumb gently over the bruise on Henri’s cheek, grounding him. “Henri... what if David wants to be there?”
The horror that swept across Henri’s face made Michael wish he’d bitten the words back. “No. You don’t know Marc. He’s twisting him. He has to be. No one could want that.”
Michael’s thumb lingered on his cheekbone, softer. “There are people who do. People who want the rules, the control. Even the surrender. It doesn’t excuse what Marc did to you. Nothing ever will. But it might mean David isn’t trapped in the same way you were.”
Henri shook his head hard, panic in every line of him. “No. I lived it. I know what it is. No one would choose it.”
Michael didn’t argue further. He just stroked Henri’s hair, calm and steady, his own heart breaking.
Henri sagged against him, trembling. “I should go,” he whispered, voice frayed. “If I stay too long, he’ll suspect something.”
“You don’t have to leave,” Michael said quickly, catching his wrist before he could pull away. His voice cracked with the force of it. “Stay. Just stay. We’ll figure out the rest.”
Henri lifted his face, raw and wet-eyed. “I wish I could.” His fingers curled into Michael’s shirt, desperate. “God, I wish I could.”
The admission nearly undid him. Michael pulled him tighter, breathing him in, memorizing the feel of him.
Across the room, Gabriel’s voice cut quiet but firm. “Jacob. Call a car.”
They stayed like that while the others gathered around Nika’s laptop, murmuring over Jaheel’s name and the reach of his audience. Alain pointed at figures scrolling across the screen, asking clipped questions, but Michael barely heard them. His world was the man in his arms, warm and shaking, clinging as though both of them knew the clock was running out.
Time thinned to silence until Jacob reappeared in the doorway. “The car is waiting, sir.”
Henri stood on unsteady legs, and Michael rose with him. “I’ll walk you down,” Michael said, voice rough.
Henri shook his head. “Marc will ask questions if the car is delayed.”
“I don’t care,” Michael said, but his hand was already loosening its grip. Because Henri was right. Every extra minute increased the danger.
Henri’s hand lingered on Michael’s chest, fingers spreading as if he could hold this moment a little longer. His eyes were red-rimmed, desperate.
“I have to go,” Henri whispered.
