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CHAPTER TWO

JULIAN

W hat seems like a lifetime ago, I burst into this damn room to find my mother and Aurelia in a standoff.

There was blood. Blood everywhere. Pools of blood seeping into the carpet, staining everything crimson. My brother was lying there, his life draining away while the fucking woman I thought I knew stood ready to shoot the one who raised me.

My mother—who gave me life, who suffered endless nights of abuse to protect me, who gives me purpose. She was threatened, terrified, clinging to me like I was the only thing keeping her from drowning.

What the fuck was I supposed to think?

Aurelia was the one with the gun. My brother was the one bleeding out. And my mother has always wanted what’s best for us—there’s no way she’d do something like this.

I love Aurelia. God help me, I love her in a way that tears me open, that makes my chest splinter and crack whenever she’s near.

But if she thinks I’ll believe her insane lies, or choose her over the woman who birthed me, who endured twenty-eight years of hell to keep me and Adrian safe, she’s out of her fucking mind.

Aurelia’s taunting, the way she fought me and tried to get my gun, is like the nail in the coffin. Why fight like a lunatic when you’re innocent?

If there’s one valuable thing I learned from my fucked-up father, it’s this: the more they run their mouths, the more they’re guilty.

Now, Valentine’s wide shoulders block most of Adrian’s body as he drapes a white sheet over him.

The fabric settles like snow, pure against all that red, and my throat constricts at the sight.

Adrian. My brother. The smug bastard who always had to be perfect, who looked at me with that mix of judgment and pity that made my blood boil.

But he was still my brother.

And now he’s dead? Murdered by the woman who set my world on fire.

Aurelia’s inching toward the door, those green sweatpants making her look more vulnerable than she usually appears.

The gun tucked into her waistband shows its outline under her baggy white shirt.

Blood has soaked through the fabric in abstract patterns—my brother’s blood.

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and I hate that even now, even after everything, my eyes trace the movement and curve of her tits.

But it’s her hair that really fucks with my head. She’s got it pinned up in this messy bun, but it’s not straightened like usual. No—those wild red curls are breaking free around her face, still damp like she just washed it. Natural. Untamed. The way I always begged her to wear it.

The fucking irony burns. She finally wears it the way I love on the night she murders my brother.

Her eyes are feral now, darting between me, Adrian’s body, and the exit like a cornered animal. She looks dangerous, unpredictable. I used to think I knew every side of her.

Fuck, how wrong I was.

She didn’t manage to wrestle my gun away, so I’m still gripping it. My fingers tighten around the handle as she shifts her weight. Will she reach for the weapon in her waistband and try to finish what she started? Shoot me? My mother?

Disgust coils in my gut like a serpent because this isn’t the Aurelia I know.

It’s not the girl who wrapped a hair tie around my wrist when we were kids, declaring us “forever friends.” Or the woman who scowls at snow or knows my favorite cookie shape is a star.

Who looked at me like I was more than just Lucian Harrow’s son.

“Julian.” Her voice cracks on my name, but that’s all she says. Maybe she’s finally feeling the weight of regret and wants to beg for my forgiveness.

I don’t forgive that easily; I don’t know if I can forgive something like this.

Still, I can’t make sense of what happened. Why would Aurelia kill Adrian? What’s her endgame?

I should’ve seen the signs when she defied me about Victoria. I told her not to kill her yet, to wait until the moment was right, but she lied and did it anyway, like a brat. That one act of rebellion got Lucian killed as payback from Victoria’s family.

I thought Aurelia was finally letting me into her world, letting me help for fuck’s sake, but this entire time she was just using me. I should’ve known then what she was—not just untamed, but untamable.

This entire time she’s claimed to want revenge for her mother, but what if there’s a deeper plan? What if, instead of burning this place to the ground, she actually wants total control of the Inferno Consortium? Wants it all to herself or wants Valentine in control.

My head spins with questions that have no answers. The weight of Adrian’s death presses down on my chest like concrete, making it hard to breathe. Everything I thought I knew is shifting beneath my feet, leaving me unsteady.

I watch a tear fall from Aurelia’s eye, leaving a clean trail through the smudge of blood on her cheek. Something inside me fractures at the sight. Part of me wants to wipe that tear away, to pull her close and breathe her in until this nightmare makes sense.

But Adrian’s blood is on her hands. Literally.

And my mother trembles against me, her slim fingers digging into my shirt as she whimpers. The sound grates against my nerves, reminding me of all those nights I heard her cry behind closed doors while Lucian…

No. I won’t let anyone hurt her again. Not even Aurelia.

“Don’t move,” I warn as Aurelia takes another small step to leave. The word comes out rough, like it’s been dragged over broken glass—there’s no way she gets to kill my brother and then escape without punishment.

Her green eyes flash with desperation, maybe determination. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. She’s coiled tight, ready to spring. Ready to fight or flee or… fuck, I don’t know anymore.

Movement near Adrian’s body snaps my attention away from her. Valentine motions to the guards as he finishes securing the sheet over my brother. The white fabric settles with a finality that makes my stomach heave.

Valentine orders two guards to help carry Adrian. Then he tells me, “We’ll handle this.”

The fuck?

Handle this? Like Adrian is nothing more than a fucking mess to clean up?

“Don’t touch him,” I growl. When the guards hesitate, reaching for Adrian anyway, something inside me snaps. “I said don’t fucking touch him! I’ll carry my brother. You have no right.”

The guards freeze, eyes darting to Valentine. The room goes still except for my ragged breathing and my mother’s quiet sobs.

A tidal wave of emotions crashes over me—shock that numbs my senses, grief that claws at my insides, and betrayal that stings like an open wound. My mind whirls, struggling to process the overwhelming onslaught of raw feelings.

I’m lost, trying to cling to anything that makes sense. But one thing is clear—Aurelia is responsible for this chaos. She’s the source of this agony .

A single thought emerges: I need to act.

Justice... it’s all I can cling to. It becomes my sanity. My hope. The idea of hurting Aurelia, making her pay for what she’s done… It’s not just retribution; it’s survival. Because right now, doing something—anything—is better than succumbing to this crippling despair.

“This is your fault.” I turn on Aurelia, my voice rising with each word. “You did this. You’re like a plague on my life.” My voice cracks. “My fucking brother?—”

She opens her mouth to speak, to vomit more lies, but I don’t let her. I don’t give her the chance to spout more bullshit.

My vision blurs, rage pulsing through me like molten lava. Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve crossed the empty space between us and my knee lashes out. It connects with Aurelia’s side, the impact reverberating up my leg. She crumples, a strangled gasp escaping her pink lips as she hits the floor.

I’m on her in an instant, my larger frame pinning her to the ground. I lean in close enough to feel her fear, to see the terror in her eyes. “You think you know pain? You think your mother’s death even comes close?”

My hands find her throat, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Her pulse races beneath my palms, frantic and alive while my brother’s is silent.

Her legs kick out in futile attempts to escape my iron grip. “S… St—” she tries to choke out.

“This,” I hiss, my face so close to hers that our noses almost touch, “this is pain.”

The pressure on her neck increases, and I watch her eyes bulge.

Her nails rake across my arms, drawing blood, but I barely feel it.

All I can focus on is the pressure building in my chest, threatening to tear me apart from the inside.

Grief and rage are at war, leaving a void of numb emptiness in their wake.

But this—feeling Aurelia struggle beneath me, watching the light in her eyes flicker as she gasps for air—this makes me feel something. It’s sick and twisted, but it’s better than the hollow ache threatening to consume me.

“You took him from me,” I snarl, tasting the tiny wisps of air escaping her lips. Her red hair has broken free of her bun so it fans out around her head like a halo. “He was my brother. My flesh and blood. And you—” My voice breaks again. “You murdered him. For what fucking reason?”

Aurelia’s eyes are wide. Her lips move, forming words I won’t—can’t—hear. All I can think about is Adrian’s body, covered in that white sheet. All I can hear is my mother’s quiet sobs.

Valentine’s voice booms behind me, “Julian! Enough!”

But fuck him. My hands shake as I maintain my grip. Part of me screams to stop, horrified by what I’m doing. But a darker part revels in this control, in making Aurelia feel even a fraction of the pain tearing through me.

“Get him off her!” Valentine shouts to the guards.

Her struggles are weakening, her face taking on a bluish tinge. Something primal and vicious inside me growls in satisfaction.

“You don’t get to walk away from this,” I hiss. “You don’t get to be free while he’s gone. ”