Chapter 36: Tailored Tension

Kane climbed into the passenger seat, cradling his coffee like a lifeline.

The car smelled of leather and Cyrus’s cologne, a combination that was becoming disturbingly familiar.

Cyrus started the engine, his attention fixed on the road ahead.

Water pooled in the potholes, reflecting the pale light of the clearing sky.

The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words about last night. Kane sipped his coffee, the bitter liquid burning his tongue.

"So," Kane ventured, desperate to break the tension, "what’s the plan for today? Back to the office?"

Cyrus adjusted the temperature controls. "I have meetings this afternoon."

"Right." Kane nodded, watching raindrops race down his window. "By the way, Mochi texted. Says he found something about the Midnight Chalice."

That caught Cyrus’s attention. His eyes flicked briefly to Kane.

"What exactly did he find?"

"Didn’t say. Just that it’s big and he wants to meet at his shop as soon as possible." Kane scrolled through the message again.

"Oh, and he says hi to ’Scaley Daddy.’"

Cyrus’s jaw tightened. "We’ll go there first, then."

Kane glanced at his rumpled t-shirt, then at Cyrus’s equally casual attire.

"Maybe we should head back to the penthouse first," Kane suggested.

"You look a bit... casual for your usual style."

Cyrus’s eyes narrowed as he took in his reflection in the rearview mirror. His fingers brushed against a wrinkle in his collar, and his expression soured.

"Preparedness is part of your job description." Cyrus’s tone remained cool, but Kane caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"A proper assistant would have packed a spare suit."

"What?" Kane’s tail bristled beneath him.

"I brought towels, snacks, and extra t-shirts. How would I know we’d be spending the night in some random motel because of a storm?"

Kane slumped against the leather seat. The karmic bond tugged at his chest, a constant reminder of his new role in Cyrus’s life.

"Fine," he muttered, staring out the window. "I apologize for not packing your three-piece armor. Next time we go hunting for mythical artifacts, I’ll bring your entire wardrobe."

Kane folded his arms across his chest, his bottom lip jutting out slightly.

The fox spirit stared at the passing scenery, deliberately avoiding Cyrus’s gaze.

Last night’s Cyrus —the one who’d held him through the storm, who’d healed his wounds with gentle hands seemed like a distant memory compared to this cold businessman beside him now.

Cyrus glanced over, his expression softening as he caught sight of Kane’s reflection in the window. The fox spirit’s pout was unmistakable.

"It’s... fine. We can stop for new suits on the way to Mochi’s." he said, his voice lacking its usual edge.

Kane’s ears perked up. He swiveled toward Cyrus. "Really?"

"It would be inefficient to return to the penthouse now." He pulled the car into the turning lane.

"I know a place nearby. They’ll have something decent."

The rest of the drive passed in near silence, the city slowly reclaiming the horizon.

An hour later, Cyrus pulled into the parking lot of a discreet storefront tucked between two larger buildings.

The sign, etched in understated gold lettering on black marble, read "Hoshino & Sons, Est. 1873."

"This place doesn’t look like it takes walk-ins," Kane whispered as they approached.

"They don’t," Cyrus replied, straightening his shoulders. "But they make exceptions."

As they approached the entrance, the glass door swung open. Kane froze mid-step.

Elias Thorne emerged from the shop, adjusting the cuff of a dark maroon suit jacket that looked freshly tailored.

His amber eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight of them before settling into a calculating gaze.

"Cyrus," he acknowledged with a slight incline of his head. "And Mr. Ashwood. What an unexpected pleasure."

Kane felt Cyrus stiffen beside him, the karmic bond between them humming with sudden tension.

"Thorne." Cyrus replied coldly. His posture shifted subtly, angling his body between Kane and the wolf spirit.

Kane cleared his throat, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. His tail twitched nervously beneath his clothes.

"That’s a really nice suit," Kane offered, gesturing at Elias’s impeccable maroon jacket. "The color suits you."

Elias’s amber eyes gleamed with amusement as his gaze shifted from Cyrus to Kane.

A smile spread across his face, revealing teeth just a touch too sharp to be human.

"Why, thank you, Mr. Ashwood. Hoshino is the finest tailor in the city." His fingers traced the lapel of his jacket with obvious pride.

"They’ve been dressing the city’s elite for generations."

Elias’s eyes flicked back to Cyrus, lingering on his wrinkled clothes.

"They know exactly how to accommodate those of us with... unique physiques. The measurements must be precise, especially around the shoulders."

The implication hung in the air—shoulders where wings might emerge.

"You should ask Cyrus about their work. He’s quite familiar with their craftsmanship." Elias adjusted his cuffs.

"We used to spend hours here together, didn’t we?"

Kane’s gaze darted between the two. His mind flashed back to the photo he’d found in Cyrus’s study—the casual arm draped around his shoulders, the ease that no longer existed.

Whatever had transformed their relationship from close colleagues to bitter rivals was clearly more complicated than Cyrus had let on.

Cyrus said nothing, his expression hardening into stone.

He brushed past Elias without acknowledgment, the bell above the door chiming as he entered the tailor shop.

Kane’s ears flattened slightly beneath his human glamour.

The tension between the two powerful spirits crackled like static electricity in the air.

"It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Thorne," Kane offered with a polite nod, stepping sideways to follow Cyrus.

Elias’s amber eyes tracked Kane’s movement, his smile never reaching those predatory eyes.

"Oh, I’m certain we’ll be seeing each other again soon, Mr. Ashwood. Perhaps under more... comfortable circumstances."

Kane quickened his pace, slipping through the door and into the hushed interior of the shop.

The scent of cedar and fine wool enveloped him as he spotted Cyrus already speaking in low tones with an elderly man behind the counter.

The fox spirit hurried to Cyrus’s side, feeling the karmic bond between them settle into a steadier rhythm as the distance closed.

He couldn’t help glancing back through the window, where Elias still stood watching them, his expression unreadable.

The elderly tailor nodded at Cyrus’s whispered instructions, his weathered hands already pulling fabric swatches from beneath the counter.

His eyes, magnified behind round spectacles, flickered curiously toward Kane.