Caleb didn't move. The weight of the decision hung between them, unspoken but undeniable. Across the table, Elias studied him, his expression carefully neutral, but Caleb saw the tension in his fingers, the slight shift of his posture. He was ready to act. So was Caleb.
"You think Dante left this up to chance?" Elias' voice was quiet, almost amused. "He already knows the answer. This? This is just the final step."
Caleb's fingers curled slightly, not toward the weapon on the table, but toward the moment, the inevitable conclusion neither of them could escape. "Then let's not waste time."
Elias moved first. Caleb saw the twitch in his shoulder, the telltale shift in weight, and reacted before the other man could reach for the gun. He shoved the table forward, knocking Elias off balance. The weapon clattered to the floor. Elias recovered fast, lunging, but Caleb was already moving, sidestepping just as Elias swung.
They collided, a blur of motion and force, neither willing to give an inch. Caleb twisted, using Elias' momentum against him, forcing him backward. They slammed into the wall, a framed screen rattling from the impact. Elias gritted his teeth, pushing back, but Caleb was faster. He shifted, breaking the hold, driving his elbow into Elias' ribs.
Elias staggered, but he wasn't finished. He feinted left, then struck from the right, forcing Caleb to react on instinct. The moment of adjustment cost him. Elias shoved him against the table, reaching for the fallen weapon. Caleb caught his arm, stopping him just in time. They struggled, muscles locked, breath sharp and quick.
Caleb saw the moment Elias realized he wasn't going to win. It was there, flickering in his eyes, just before Caleb forced him down, pinning him against the floor. The fight left Elias in a slow exhale, his body going still.
Silence settled over the room.
The door opened. Dante stepped in, his expression impassive. He took in the scene, the overturned table, the motionless figure at Caleb's feet. He walked forward, picked up his glass, and took a slow sip. "Well," he murmured, setting the drink down. "That's one way to handle it." He met Caleb's gaze, unreadable. Then he turned toward the door. "Clean it up."
Caleb watched him go. The weight of the moment settled on his shoulders, but he didn't let it sink in. Not yet. He took a breath, steadying himself. The choice had been made. The path was set.
And he was still here.