Page 62

CHAPTER FORTY

AURELIA

T he world comes back to me in bits and pieces: distant voices, the scent of leather, pain throbbing along my neck and right hand. My eyelids are heavy but I force them open.

I know this place. I know these shadows well.

I’m sprawled across the living room couch in the Harrow penthouse. I touch my neck, finding a neat line of stitches beneath a bandage. Then a sharp pain shoots up my arm from my broken finger.

Julian really…?

I squeeze my eyes shut as the tears come. I really thought he’d kill me.

Terror rattles in my lungs with each breath as my wounds pulse with each heartbeat, like a countdown to something inevitable. But what? What does he want with me?

I check my hands and feet. He didn’t tie me down. I’m not locked up .

So what’s happening?

The Julian I know would have chained me. This casual disregard—leaving me unbound in his living room—suggests something far more terrifying. It suggests he doesn’t believe I can escape. Or worse, that he doesn’t care if I try.

My eyes dart around the room, searching for the guards that must be here, the traps he must have set. There’s nothing. Just a silent penthouse and the distant hum of Seattle below.

I struggle to sit up because my body betrays me with sudden vertigo. The room spins for a moment, and in that sickening sensation, I see visions of my cousin.

Lorenzo, crumpling to the ground, blood soaking his shirt like a blooming rose.

I choke back a sob, pressing my knuckles against my mouth. I didn’t get to check on him because of Julian.

Is Lorenzo dead? Did he die trying to save me? And Adrian—God, Adrian—did Julian’s men capture him too? Is he even alive?

I touch the emerald necklace I’m thankfully still wearing as my heart hammers against my ribs. I can only feel my own regret. I should’ve opened my bedroom door. I should’ve given myself those precious last minutes with Adrian.

Even though I didn’t make a sound, I was listening.

He kept knocking, trying to explain. He told me everything through the door, not even sure I was there.

God help me, I was sitting against that door, absorbing every word he spoke.

About how the marriage was strategic— a way to secure resources for his plan to dismantle the Consortium.

How he never loved Bianca, never consummated the marriage.

How he’d intended to divorce her once his plans were complete.

I want to believe him. Despite everything, despite all the lies and manipulations, I want to trust in the vulnerability I heard in his voice.

I just need to see him again. Please God, let him be alive.

I need to look into his eyes as he explains.

I need to understand how someone who claims to love me could keep such a secret.

Because I do still love him. I love Adrian—Dante—whatever name he chooses. I love the quiet strength beneath his careful control, the fierce protectiveness behind his calculating exterior. I love the man who finally showed me his true self, scars and all.

My throat constricts. God, this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. All my revenge, all those names crossed off my list… it was supposed to lead to justice. Not this. Not more bloodshed and more lives destroyed.

I was supposed to escape with Adrian and my cousin. Start a new life in Italy.

“Finally awake, I see.”

Lady Harrow’s voice slithers into the room before she appears, her body silhouetted in the archway. She’s dressed perfectly as always, a midnight blue dress clinging to her thin figure, pearls gleaming at her throat like teeth.

“Where’s Julian?” I croak out.

She smiles. “Taking care of business. He’ll be disappointed he missed your awakening. He’s been so looking forward to your reunion. ”

I struggle to my feet, defiance straightening my spine despite the weakness in my limbs. Dizziness hits, so I grab the back of the couch. I refuse to cower when facing this bitch. “What have you done to Adrian?”

“Adrian?” She cackles. “My dear, Adrian is the least of your concerns right now.”

She glides toward me. Up close, I can see the fine lines around her eyes, the hollow cheeks carefully contoured to appear youthful. She’s a beautiful shell housing nothing but rot.

“It’s almost sad, really,” she continues, circling me like a shark smelling blood.

“Two men at your feet, and you couldn’t keep either one.

Adrian found a proper wife. And Julian…” She pauses, savoring whatever she’s about to say.

“Julian finally realized he’s too good for a woman who spreads her legs for whomever has the most power.

He doesn’t even want you as a whore now. ”

Her words are like missiles, designed to find every insecurity and every wound. Once, they might have destroyed me. But I’ve been remade through pain; I’m no longer the girl who breaks.

“At least I had two,” I spit back. “At least I was a girlfriend. You were always just a whore your husband passed around.”

The jab lands. For just a moment, her eyes narrow and she grimaces, revealing the injured woman beneath everything. It’s a glimpse into the abyss that created her—the same one that nearly consumed me.

“Careful.” Her voice drops to a dangerous hiss. “You forget who holds power here.”

“Do you hold power?” I step closer, feeling reckless. “ Or are you just Julian’s puppet master, whispering poison in his ear to feel relevant? To feel needed? Does he even listen to you anymore, or does he just tolerate you like an old, familiar disease?”

Her palm connects with my cheek, the crack of skin on skin loud in the empty room. My head snaps sideways, but I don’t make a sound. I’ve endured far worse than her petty violence.

“You stupid little bitch,” she hisses. “You have no idea what I’ve built, or what I’ve endured. You think your suffering is unique? I watched your mother break. I helped break her. And now I’ll do the same to you.”

There’s plenty of fire in my veins, but for a second, I become still and just observe this hateful woman in front of me.

I’m just… God, I’m so tired. I’m tired of this world where everything, even love, becomes a weapon, where every connection is another vulnerability to exploit.

I’m tired of fighting and killing. And maybe, in this moment, I’m exhausted from crossing names off my list only to find more names, more reasons for revenge.

What has all this bloodshed really given me? Not peace. Not justice. Only heartache, more despair, and more bodies to haunt my dreams.

I could walk away. If I survive this penthouse, I could just leave Seattle for good. I could forget the list and the Consortium and find a life beyond revenge. To be something—someone—more than the sum of my wounds.

Otherwise, I’m going to end up like Lady Harrow.

“Nothing to say?” she sneers. “No clever retort? Perhaps Julian was right; you really are nothing special. Just another pretty face easily replaced.”

Well, before I leave, I could cross one more name off my list.

I lunge at her, fingers clawing for her perfect hair, her flawless yet aging face. We collide in a tangle of limbs, both of us falling awkwardly against an end table. A crystal vase crashes to the floor, splintering into deadly shards.

I’m weaker than I realized—blood loss and trauma have taken their toll—but fury lends me strength. My palm connects with her cheek, a satisfying crack that sends her head snapping backward. Her nails rake down my arm in retaliation, leaving red lines in their wake.

“You pathetic child,” she snarls, spittle flying from her lips. “You think you can beat me? I survived Lucian Harrow for twenty years. What makes you think you stand a chance?”

I’m about to answer when a sudden, deafening crack splits the air. Pain explodes in my side, white-hot and all-consuming. The force of it throws me backward onto the couch, my body suddenly unresponsive.

I turn my head as my vision swims, and I find Julian standing in the archway. The gun in his hand is still smoking.

Julian.

He shot me.

After everything—after all we’ve been to each other—he would end me like this? Not in passion or rage, but with the cold detachment of an executioner .

“I did love you,” I say weakly, the words bubbling up from somewhere deep and untouched.

It’s the truth.

I loved him. Before.

Julian’s face remains impassive, blue eyes watching me bleed onto his pristine couch. “Stop with the lies,” he says calmly. “There’s no need for them now.”

A strange detachment washes over me as I press my hand against the wound and blood seeps between my fingers.

Something doesn’t make sense. The coldness in Julian’s eyes is calculated, not impulsive.

This isn’t like him at all. If he wanted me dead, he could’ve finished me at Lorenzo’s by ordering his men to execute me.

Why drag me back here, only to perform this intimate killing?

Why not use me as bait to draw Adrian out and then kill me in front of him?

That would have been the ultimate revenge.

“Why now?” I ask, my voice steadier than it should be for someone with a bullet in her side and stitches in her throat. “Why not kill me earlier in front of your brother?”

He only lifts a brow and parts his lips to calmly reply. But before he can answer, a commotion erupts from the hallway. Guards are shouting. Something crashes. A storm is approaching.

Then he appears.

Adrian materializes, blood splattered across his vest. He’s completely disheveled—hair wild, suit torn at one shoulder. His eyes find mine immediately, widening at the sight of blood soaking through my clothes.

“Aurelia,” he breathes .

Julian shifts, positioning himself between us, gun still aimed casually in my direction. Stillness descends and the three remaining Harrows create a triangle—a complex dynamic that has defined our lives for too long.

“Right on time, brother,” Julian says, voice dripping with false warmth. “Come to save your precious Aurelia again?”

Adrian remains near the hallway, his body coiled with tension. His gaze flicks between Julian’s gun and my bloody hands, and I can see calculations running behind his eyes as he tries to solve this impossible equation.

“Why are you doing this?” Adrian asks. “You’ve always wanted her for yourself. Why kill her?”

A hollow laugh bursts from Julian’s throat. “Maybe I’ve learned what you never could, brother. Some things are better destroyed than possessed.”

Lady Harrow moves to Julian’s side, her hand resting possessively on his arm. Mother and son united in their shared monstrosity.

“If you’re going to kill her,” Adrian says, taking a careful step forward, “at least tell me why.”

Julian only smiles, and it’s the smile I remember from childhood—the one that always preceded something dangerous. “I could. Or I could just end this.”

The gun shifts, aiming directly at my heart now. Time stretches, elastic and distorted. In this suspended moment, I see everything with full clarity—the slight tremor in Julian’s hand, the coldness in Lady Harrow’s eyes, the desperate determination in Adrian’s stance.

Adrian lunges forward right before Julian pulls the trigger .

The sound cracks through the penthouse like thunder, and Adrian stumbles, his momentum carrying him forward. He collapses beside the couch, one hand reaching blindly for mine.

Blood soaks through his clothes.

Julian laughs.

“No!” I scream, dragging my wounded body toward Adrian. Blood smears beneath me as I pull myself across the floor, leaving a red trail. “No, no, no.”

I reach him, my trembling hands finding his face. His eyes are open, focused on me despite the pain I can see cutting into every line of his face.

“Don’t you dare die,” I hiss, fury replacing fear. “Don’t you dare die again. Don’t you dare leave me.”

His lips curve into a pained smile. “I’d die a second time for you if I had to, my love.”

His simple declaration breaks me and tears blur my vision as I press my forehead against his.

Julian’s footsteps approach, completely unhurried. He looms over us, his shadow falling across our entwined bodies.

“I knew you’d jump in the way of the bullet,” he says to Adrian, disgust twisting his beautiful face. “Idiot. You’ve always been so predictable. So noble .” He spits the last word.

Before I can respond, Julian’s hands close around my body, lifting me as if I weigh nothing.

Pain shoots through my side as he carries me, my blood soaking into his clothes.

For a moment, as his heart beats against mine, I think he’s saving me after all.

That some small piece of the boy I once loved still exists inside this demon.

Then he dumps me at Lady Harrow’s feet, my body hitting the floor with bone-jarring force. I cry out and grab my side.

“Do what you want with her,” he tells his mother. “Have fun.”

I vomit near Lady Harrow’s feet. Whether it’s from fear or the shock of the physical pain radiating throughout my body, I empty my guts. And once I’m empty, understanding fills the space.

This was never about killing me. I’m not even sure it’s about revenge or ego. It’s about… what?

What does Julian want?

Julian returns to Adrian, lifting him with startling gentleness. “Your wife won’t be happy,” he says, adjusting his hold to support Adrian’s head, “but fuck her. Let’s get you home where you belong, brother. With me.”

My lips part as everything becomes clear.

The tenderness in his touch, in his voice, reveals the truth hidden beneath layers of madness.

This twisted path of destruction was never truly about me.

It was about reclaiming what Julian believed was rightfully his.

Family. The only constant in a world that’s taken everything else from him.

He wants his brother back.

I watch helplessly as Julian carries Adrian away, his movements as careful as a parent with a sleeping child.

Then I’m alone.

With her .

Lady Harrow crouches beside me, her manicured fingers tracing the edge of my throat stitches with curious detachment. Then her hand moves down to hook on my necklace. She yanks it off in one violent motion and tosses it aside.

Her smile unfurls slowly. “Now then, Golden One. Where shall we begin?”