Chapter 120: Boyfriend Breakfast Delivery

The BSA headquarters lobby fell silent as Cyrus entered, arms laden with McDonald’s bags.

His tailored suit and predatory gaze created a jarring contrast with the cheerful yellow packaging.

Two security agents immediately flanked the entrance, hands moving toward concealed weapons.

Their spirit energy flared in warning—low-level canine spirits, probably German Shepherds based on their disciplined stance.

"Sir, you can’t—"

"I’m here for Agent Ashwood." Cyrus’s voice carried the unmistakable authority of a black dragon, sending ripples of unease through the assembled agents.

The receptionist’s fingers flew across her keyboard, clearly triggering some kind of alert system. Within seconds, hurried footsteps echoed from the elevator.

Commander Qi emerged mid-stride, still clutching a coffee mug that bore the BSA insignia. His golden eyes swept over Cyrus, taking in the expensive suit, the casual confidence, and the ridiculous amount of fast food.

"Mr. Drakhal." Qi’s tone balanced respect with barely contained irritation. "To what do we owe the... unexpected pleasure?"

"Emergency, apparently." Cyrus shifted the bags to one arm, freeing a hand to check his phone.

"Kane left early. I brought breakfast."

The security agents exchanged glances, clearly uncertain whether a dragon bearing McDonald’s constituted a threat or an absurdity.

Qi’s antlers caught the fluorescent lighting as he stepped closer, his formal posture rigid.

"Agent Ashwood is in debriefing. As I’m sure you understand, Bureau operations require—"

"Privacy. Yes." Cyrus smiled, all teeth and dangerous politeness.

Just then, the elevator dinged, and Kane stepped out mid-conversation with Ginsei, gesturing animatedly about surveillance protocols.

His words died in his throat.

Cyrus stood in the center of the lobby like some kind of designer-clad monument, surrounded by confused agents and his mountain of breakfast bags.

Kane’s eyes widened as his fox ears flattened against his skull.

Every head in the lobby swiveled between Kane and the impeccably dressed dragon who’d apparently decided the BSA needed a breakfast intervention.

"Kane!" Cyrus called out, completely ignoring the dozen weapons now subtly trained on him.

He strode forward with the casual confidence of someone who owned the building, extending a McDonald’s bag like it was a bouquet of roses.

The whole lobby observed this interaction with the captivated attention of bystanders witnessing a traffic collision.

Kane accepted the bag, his face burning crimson. "Cyrus, what are you—how did you even—"

"Boyfriend breakfast delivery." Cyrus whispered to Kane before settling onto the lobby’s leather couch, spreading the remaining bags across the coffee table.

Commander Qi’s eye twitched.

Ginsei’s pale green braid swayed as he leaned closer to Kane, ice-blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Agent Ashwood." Commander Qi’s voice cut through the lobby’s stunned silence like a blade.

"A word. Now."

Kane shot Cyrus a desperate look, but the dragon had already made himself comfortable, pulling out what appeared to be a McMuffin and examining it with clinical interest.

"Fascinating," Cyrus murmured to no one in particular. "Processed cheese product."

The elevator doors closed behind Kane and Qi, leaving Cyrus alone with a lobby full of increasingly agitated BSA agents.

Ginsei remained, circling the couch like a shark scenting blood.

"Tell me, Mr. Drakhal," Ginsei’s voice carried the silky menace of his serpent heritage.

"What exactly are your intentions with our Kane?"

Cyrus looked up from his breakfast sandwich, crimson eyes narrowing.

"Our Kane?"

The air around him shimmered with barely contained dragon energy, and several nearby agents unconsciously stepped back.

Ginsei’s serpentine confidence evaporated under that stare.

His ice-blue eyes widened as primal instinct screamed warnings about apex predators and immediate threats to his continued existence.

"It was just—" Ginsei’s voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat, forcing his usual smooth tone.

"Just a friendly BSA joke, Mr. Drakhal. We’re all very protective of our colleagues here."

The dragon energy receded, but his smile stayed sharp enough to cut glass. He gestured to the spread of McDonald’s bags with deceptive casualness.

"Hash brown?" Cyrus offered, his voice pleasant and utterly terrifying.

Ginsei hesitated, clearly torn between hunger and self-preservation.

"However," Cyrus continued, "let me clarify something for you, Agent... Ginsei, was it? There is no ’our’ when it comes to Kane. He’s not Bureau property to be shared among colleagues."

The dragon’s eyes flashed once more. "He’s mine."

Though that part he kept to himself.

"My apologies, Mr. Drakhal." Ginsei inclined his head in a gesture that might have been respectful but looked more like submission.

"I misspoke."

The white serpent spirit straightened his Bureau cloak, ice-blue eyes carefully avoiding Cyrus’s crimson gaze.

"If you’ll excuse me, I have... pressing matters to attend to."

Ginsei retreated with measured steps, his usual grace replaced by the careful movements of prey escaping a predator’s territory.

The lobby remained unnaturally quiet, agents pretending to review paperwork while stealing glances at the dragon who’d claimed their couch.

Cyrus unwrapped another McMuffin, taking a thoughtful bite as if the entire exchange had been about breakfast preferences rather than territorial warnings.

The elevator dinged, and Kane emerged looking frazzled but relieved. His amber eyes immediately found Cyrus, who straightened with obvious delight.

"Free to go?" Cyrus asked, rising from the couch with fluid grace.

"For now." Kane’s voice carried exhaustion and frustration. "We can talk in the car."

Kane glanced at the mountain of McDonald’s bags still spread across the coffee table, then at the lobby full of agents pretending not to stare. A mischievous grin tugged at his lips.

"Consider this a team bribe," Kane announced, gesturing to the breakfast feast. "Courtesy of Veyr Corp’s excellent catering budget. Better eat before Qi comes back and confiscates it."

The receptionist’s eyes lit up as several agents abandoned their pretense of disinterest, converging on the coffee table with barely concealed enthusiasm.

Cyrus placed a possessive hand on Kane’s lower back, guiding him toward the exit. "Generous of you."

"Your money," Kane pointed out.

"Our money," Cyrus corrected quietly, the words sending an unexpected flutter through Kane’s chest.

As they reached the lobby doors, Cyrus leaned closer. "We have the Jadefall meeting in less than an hour."

Kane’s steps faltered. "Already? I thought—"

"Time waits for no fox." Cyrus’s crimson eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Even adorable ones who abandon their dragons for emergency Bureau meetings."

The automatic doors slid shut behind them, cutting off the sounds of agents discovering the joys of free McDonald’s breakfast.

Kane shot Cyrus a sideways look. "Did you just call me adorable in public?"

"I said no such thing."