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The rage that’s been simmering beneath my skin boils over, flooding my vision with crimson. I wrench myself free of Mother’s grip and push through the crowd, shoving bodies aside as I cut a path straight to Aurelia.

I don’t hear the startled gasps or protests that follow in my wake. I don’t see the hungry eyes tracking my movement, eager for the next act in this bloody theater. All I see is her. All I feel is this white-hot need to make her pay.

“You,” I snarl when I reach her, my voice razor-sharp. “A word. Now.”

Lorenzo steps forward, positioning himself between us like some kind of fucking knight. “This isn’t the time,” he says, his Italian accent thickening with tension.

I laugh, the sound brittle enough to crack glass. “Move.” The single word carries enough threat to make lesser men piss themselves. But this idiot doesn’t move.

Aurelia’s hand touches Lorenzo’s arm, a gesture that sends fresh rage coursing through me. “It’s fine,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll talk to him.”

I don’t wait for more discussion. My fingers wrap around her upper arm, squeezing. I drag her away from the crowd, from Lorenzo’s watchful eyes, toward a secluded alcove formed by empty wine barrels and stone. Every step feels like walking through fire, my skin burning where it meets hers.

When we’re hidden from prying eyes, I release her with a shove that sends her stumbling back against the rough stone wall. She looks like a wounded deer, eyes wide and glistening, a slight tremble in her lower lip that tugs at something deep and buried in my chest.

For a heartbeat—just one fucking traitorous heartbeat—I want to gather her in my arms and protect her from whatever has put that fear in her eyes. Even though I know I’m the one causing it.

Then I remember Adrian’s blood pooling on the carpet. The way my mother sobbed in my arms. The poison in Martinelli’s glass.

The softness crumbles, replaced by concrete rage.

“Martinelli?” I spit the name like it tastes foul. “Today of all days? Are you really that fucking cruel?”

She straightens, lifting her chin in that defiant way that’s always made me want to kiss her senseless. “I didn’t kill him. I had nothing to do with this. I swear. I would never?—”

“Bullshit.” I step closer, close enough to smell the faint trace of plain soap on her skin. “You found out he killed Lucian and decided to play a fucking game. To taunt me publicly.”

“He what?” Her eyes widen and then flash, a spark of that fire I’ve always loved—that I’ve always hated loving.

“I didn’t know he killed Lucian. And I didn’t do this!

” Her delicate jaw sets in a stubborn line.

“You think I’d be stupid enough to kill someone at an event where I’m already the prime suspect for—” She cuts herself off, swallowing hard and pressing those full, pink lips together.

“For murdering my brother?” I finish for her. “Go ahead. Say it.” I lean closer until our faces are inches apart. “Say his name. Adrian. The man you claimed to care about for ten years before you put a bullet in him.”

“I didn’t!” Her voice cracks, eyes blazing with something that looks suspiciously like truth. “Your mother killed him. I told you that?—”

I grab her arms so hard it’ll bruise and shove her back into the stone wall.

“Stop fucking lying! How am I supposed to believe that? My own mother? Are you insane? You’d have a better chance of convincing me it was a random burglar.

” My hand slams into the wall beside her head, making her flinch.

“So tell me the goddamn truth. Why did you kill him?”

She doesn’t back down. If anything, she looks more determined as she leans closer, her breath warm against my cheek. “Here’s the truth, you idiot. Your precious mother is a fucking liar. She used me to eliminate threats to your position. She manipulated all of us.”

My other hand finds the wall on the opposite side of her head, caging her in. “You expect me to believe that? After you killed Victoria against my direct orders? After you spent months executing your little revenge plans and showing me just how good you are at getting away with murder?”

“That’s different and you know it.” Her eyes dart to my lips for the briefest second, and something electric snaps between us.

“I never lied to you about wanting those people dead. But Adrian and Martinelli?” She shakes her head.

“I had nothing to do with either of them. I swear on my mother’s grave, and you know she means everything to me. ”

For a moment—just one stolen moment—my eyes trace the curve of her mouth.

The lips I’ve tasted more times than I can count.

The same lips that have whispered filthy desires in my ear, that have pressed against every inch of my skin.

My body remembers hers like a song I can’t forget, and the melody pulses through me, drowning out reason.

Especially knowing that fucker Lorenzo is hovering nearby, watching her with those hungry eyes. He must want her all to himself, the filthy bastard.

She’s still mine .

My hands are braced on either side of her head, my body caging her in.

Her sweet scent fills my lungs with every ragged breath.

I’m trying to hate her. Trying to remember all the reasons I should crush her throat beneath my palms. But this close, with her chest rising and falling rapidly, her pulse visible at the hollow of her throat, hatred feels too much like something else.

Something in me gives—a dam breaking, flooding every rational thought with pure, primal need. I grab her face, fingers tangling in her hair, and crush my mouth against hers.

She tries to scream, but I swallow the sound, pressing her against the wall with my body so there’s no escape.

The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s punishment and pleasure wrapped into one brutal claiming.

My teeth catch her lower lip, biting down until I taste copper, until she gasps and cries out.

My tongue invades the warm cavern of her mouth, demanding her surrender while my body presses hers firmly against the wall, letting her feel every hard inch of what she does to me, as maddening as it is .

She fights me—I wouldn’t expect anything less. Her small fists pound against my chest, nails clawing at my shoulders. She turns her face away, breaking the kiss with a strangled sound that’s half sob, half fury.

“Stop,” she hisses, pushing against me with surprising strength. “You can’t just?—”

I recapture her mouth, swallowing her protests. She doesn’t get to tell me what to fucking do. One hand slides down to grip her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to mark her. Mine. The word echoes through my skull with each thundering heartbeat.

Her resistance is crumbling; I can feel it in the way her body softens, in the slight parting of her lips and her cries that are turning to moans. Her hands still push at my chest, but the pressure is weakening. She’s fighting herself now more than me.

She knows she can’t resist this explosive energy that’s always existed between us.

I drag my lips along her jaw, up to her ear. “Tell me you don’t?—”

“Julian.”

Before I can fall any deeper into this dangerous spiral, my mother’s voice slices through the tension.

“Julian,” she says again sharply, the way she used to when I was a kid and tried to eat ice cream before dinner.

She stands at the entrance to the alcove, her face a stony mask.

Behind her, two security guards shift uncomfortably.

“I just received an update. The surveillance footage from today has been tampered with. The cameras near the entrance where the drinks were served—they’ve been disabled. ”

All the heat drains from my skin, replaced by a cold certainty that settles in my bones. I jerk away from the pull of Aurelia’s body, back to reality. Back to what she’s done.

“How convenient,” I say, my eyes scanning Aurelia’s face. Her cheeks are flushed, she’s trembling, and I can imagine my little outburst made her wet. But any desire to explore that now is gone. Mother has just given me proof of Aurelia’s mind games.

I lean in close so no one else can hear. “Wasn’t the footage from Victoria’s apartment building also mysteriously ‘missing’? Just like the cameras at Marcus Whitman’s favorite restaurant. It’s interesting that wherever you go, cameras suddenly stop working.”

This time, Aurelia doesn’t try to defend herself. Her eyes drop to the floor in defeat.

It’s the most honest thing she’s done in weeks.

Mother steps closer and whispers in my ear, “You must deal with her. Before she comes for me next. Before she finishes what she started. Aren’t you going to protect me?”

The look of genuine fear in my mother’s eyes—fear for her life—makes my heart ramp up. My momentary lapse in judgment, that split second of weakness where I almost believed Aurelia, evaporates like morning dew under a scorching sun.

I turn my dark gaze back to Aurelia, taking in every detail of her face. The way her lashes frame those deceitful green eyes. The scatter of freckles across her nose that I used to trace with my fingertip. The flush that spreads across her collarbone when she’s caught in a lie.

She really is a fucking masterpiece. Beautiful even in her monstrosity.

“Guards,” I call out so everyone can hear. My voice is steady despite the storm raging inside me. “Take her.”

Aurelia’s eyes widen, disbelief washing over her features. “Julian, please?—”

“Shut up.” The words slice through her pathetic plea. “You’re done talking. You’re done lying. You’re done killing people around me.”

The two guards behind mom step forward, their faces expressionless as they reach for the woman I’ve loved for too fucking long.

This time, they’re actually obeying. The power surging through me is intoxicating—addictive in a way I never understood when I watched my father wield it.

I’m the leader now, so they’ll do anything I ask.

Obey me above anyone else. Fuck, how satisfying.

Aurelia’s chin lifts, that defiant fire still burning even as tears threaten to spill. “You’re making a mistake you can’t take back. Everything from this moment on will be different. Don’t do this. Please.”

“My only mistake was trusting you.” I step back, creating space for the guards to do what I commanded. “Take her to Adrian’s bedroom.” I smirk at the shock that colors her cheeks. Maybe some time in the room of the man she killed will get her to confess. Feel some kind of remorse.

The guards advance, their movements mechanical as they flank Aurelia. One grabs her arm, yanking her forward with unnecessary force. Something protective flares in my chest at the sight, but I smother it quickly. She lost the right to my protection when she put a bullet in my brother.

“Julian!” Valentine’s voice is loud as he pushes his way into our alcove, his weathered, tan face twisted with confusion. “What’re you doing?”

“What needs to be done.” I meet his gaze, unflinching. “You know she’s a killer. She’s done enough damage.”

Valentine’s eyes dart between me and Aurelia like he’s calculating something. “This isn’t the place. Let me handle it.”

“Like you handled my brother’s body?” I step closer, drawing myself to my full height.

“When you ordered the guards to take him against my wishes? That was the last fucking time you’ll get to disobey me.

” Adrenaline rushes through me, fueling a fire that’s been smoldering since that night.

“I’m the leader of the Inferno Consortium now.

Not you. These men answer to me .” He starts to open his mouth, to actively defy me, so I gesture to the closest guard. “Pull your gun out.”

The guard complies without hesitation.

“Now point it at his chest.”

The guard hesitates this time, likely because Valentine is head of security. They’ve probably had chats over coffee, developed some kind of camaraderie. But the hesitation is brief; the guard aims his gun at Valentine’s heart.

To his credit, Valentine doesn’t flinch, only holds my gaze with acceptance like a true soldier.

I can’t help myself. I fucking grin. So many years I’ve spent bowing down to him or Lucian or my brother.

I’ve had to keep my mouth shut, humiliate myself so Lucian wouldn’t hurt Mother, and help others get what they want.

Then I’d take out my frustrations at The Den.

That’s all over. For once, everyone must do what I want.

What freedom. What a rush.

“No!” Aurelia shouts, trying to break away from the guard holding her.

“Why not?” I ask coldly. “You took family from me. I should return the favor.”

She finally breaks, falling to her knees and sobbing. “Please, Julian. Please don’t…”

The rush starts to fade as my eyes track a tear rolling down her cheek. Maybe I should feel happy that she’s falling apart like this after how she hurt me, but I don’t.

I don’t like seeing her so frail and broken.

I clear my throat so my voice doesn’t crack. “Get her out of here,” I tell the guards.

The one with the gun glances at me, questioning if I want him to kill Valentine. I give him a slight head shake and he holsters the gun.

What I won’t admit out loud is, I still need Valentine. He knows everything about running this shit show, so for now, he gets to live.

The guards drag Aurelia out of the alcove and through the crowd, which parts like the Red Sea before Moses. Hushed whispers follow in their wake, hungry bloodsuckers feasting on the spectacle of the Golden One’s fall from grace.

Lorenzo watches from the edge of the crowd, swirling his wine, his expression detached as Aurelia disappears from view. He sure likes watching her. I’ll have to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t make a play for what’s mine.

I turn to Valentine, who stands rigid with barely contained fury. “Clean this up,” I say, gesturing toward the space where Martinelli’s body still lies. “It’s been here too long already.”

For a moment, I think he might refuse. Might challenge me again. Then his shoulders slump almost imperceptibly, and he nods. “Yes, sir.”

The formality in his tone—the acknowledgment of my authority—makes another grin lift my mood.

Mother steps to my side, slipping her arm through mine as Valentine walks away. “I’m so proud of you,” she says. “Taking control. Showing them you won’t tolerate betrayal. You did wonderfully.”

Even as warmth spreads through me at her praise, a sliver of doubt works its way into my mind like a splinter beneath the skin.

Was this the right move?