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CHAPTER FIVE

AURELIA

T here’s a tremor in my hand as I twist the cap off the miniature vodka bottle. The crisp crack of the seal breaks, punctuated by the silence of my bedroom. The loud snap makes me flinch.

Today. It’s happening today—the coronation where Julian will officially take control of the Inferno Consortium, and where his mother’s perfect little plan comes full circle.

Could I die today? It’d sure be convenient for Julian. No need to hunt me; I’d be right there, at his mercy, and with all the nasty rumors no one would bat an eye if he just shot me in the heart. I can picture myself, spread out over Adrian’s coffin, coating it in my own blood.

That’s the nightmare I kept having last night.

It’s possible, yet somehow, I know he won’t take any action toward me today.

I’m sure he’d rather make me suffer first, which is why I need to be careful.

It was actually pretty stupid for me to go to that Consortium party a few days ago—it’s better for me to stay in this apartment where I have at least some protection and weapons at my disposal.

Though Julian does live in the same building, just several floors above us in a penthouse.

Hell, he could easily come into my room and take me out when Valentine is away for work.

So why hasn’t he? What in the world is he waiting for? There’s a piece of my heart praying that the reason I’m still alive is because some part of Julian believes me. That’s why he’s hesitating. I just need to get all of him to believe me.

I knock back the vodka and then hiss. The tiny bottle only holds enough liquid to take the edge off my nerves, but it’s better than nothing.

These pocket-sized shots have become my constant companions lately—easy to hide, easy to dispose of.

Valentine would lose his mind if he knew how many empty bottles are stuffed at the bottom of my trash can.

My bed feels like quicksand as I sink back against one of my many colorful throw pillows.

The plush duvet swallows me whole, positioned in the center of my room so I can stare up at my artwork from every angle.

I grab a stuffed elephant nearby and then take my mother’s diary off the nightstand.

The edges are frayed from countless readings, the pages stained with both of our tears.

I flip to one of her entries near the end, desperately searching for…

something. Strength maybe. Hope. Anything to get me through what’s coming.

Another day in Lucian’s room, but at least it’s familiar and comfortable. I hate when he lets other men borrow me for the night. Some put me in basements or closets. Lucian at least lets me wither away with a soft bed.

He thinks I’m withering away, but he doesn’t know about you, my sweet baby girl.

Knowing you’re growing inside me means I won’t break.

Sometimes when the walls feel like they’re closing in, I think of you—of the life you’ll have once we’re free.

I imagine us walking in a garden somewhere far from here, teaching you the names of flowers.

You’ll never know the taste of fear or the weight of chains around your wrists.

You’ll be safe. You’ll be loved. You’ll be free. I’ll make sure of it, I promise.

That dream of tomorrow gives me the strength to endure today. No matter how dark it gets, I know the sun will rise again. We just have to hold on a little longer, my sweet angel.

My throat tightens as I trace her elegant handwriting. Even trapped in Lucian’s personal hell, she found hope. She believed in a future worth fighting for.

God, I wish I had her optimism now. All I can see ahead of me is blood and pain and Julian’s cold eyes. What if I can never turn those cold eyes warm again?

A knock at my door makes me gasp. I shove the empty vodka bottle under my blanket just as Valentine enters, carrying a steaming mug of coffee.

He’s already ready for the funeral, wearing a black shirt and pants, but that’s how he normally dresses.

The gun holstered at his hip is a quick reminder of what he is: the right hand of the Harrow family. Cleaner of messes. My adoptive father.

His dark eyes scan my face, probably noting how I’ve left my hair messy and wild, and how the shadows under my eyes have turned a deep shade of purple. My skin has also been sticking to my bones like paper since I barely eat now.

“Almost ready?” he asks, settling on the edge of my bed. I can smell the coffee clinging to him—probably his fourth cup this morning. He holds out the mug like a peace offering.

I glance down at my flannel PJs. He must see how much I’m not ready to go.

After moving my mother’s diary and the stuffed elephant aside, I force myself to sit up, accepting the coffee with trembling hands. The bitter scent turns my stomach, but I take a tiny sip to appease him. The taste makes me grimace—I just can’t stomach coffee, or food, right now.

Everything except alcohol makes my stomach churn, the same way thoughts of Julian do. What’s really waiting for me at the coronation? It’s also going to be Adrian’s funeral, and I have no idea how I’ll get through that.

“Any chance I can stay here?” I ask Valentine.

“Nope.” His tone is firm but not threatening. He’s just telling me the truth. I don’t have the option of not going, not unless I want everyone to think I really did kill Adrian and I’m hiding like a coward.

I’m not a coward. It’s just painful.

I glance down at my ratty sleep shirt and worn flannel pants. I’ll have to change into something black and prepare myself for whispers behind my back and stares, all while trying to gather the fallen pieces of my heart long enough to say goodbye to Adrian.

I swallow the hard lump in my throat. “Why didn’t you let me see him? That night. Why couldn’t I see him in private? I don’t want to be around all those disgusting people.”

Valentine’s jaw ticks. “There was too much blood. That’s not how you want to remember him.”

“I didn’t care about the blood.” My voice cracks on the last word. “I just needed to see him that night, not days later when it’s like his soul is long gone.” I set the full mug of coffee on the nightstand. “It’s hard to explain.”

He places a warm, heavy hand on my shoulder. “I understand it, and I’m sorry. That wasn’t the time, but you can say goodbye today.” His tone is gentle, understanding in a way that makes my chest ache. For a man who lives his life rigidly by military standards, he can be surprisingly soft.

I shake my head, nausea crawling up my throat. He really doesn’t get it. I wanted to see Adrian when he was still somewhat warm and felt almost alive under my fingertips. Today, he’ll be cold and not like the man I knew at all. Only an empty vessel.

“Come on.” Valentine squeezes my shoulder. “Get dressed. Then you can help me peel onions in the kitchen.” He gives me a wink but I just can’t respond correctly to it.

A ghost of a smile tugs at my lips at our inside joke, but that’s all I can manage. My heart feels like it’s being wrung out like a wet rag, twisted and squeezed until there’s nothing left.

“Okay,” I whisper.

Valentine stands, his tall frame blocking the light from my floor-to-ceiling windows for a moment.

The movement casts shadows across the mellow teal walls, darkening the scattered artwork I’ve painted over the years.

He gives me a strange look, one I can’t decipher, before his face cracks into another fatherly smile. Something about it seems forced though.

He moves toward the door with that military precision, clasping his hands behind his back as he pauses at the threshold. “Twenty minutes,” he says, not looking back at me. “I’ll wait.”

The door closes behind him with a soft click. I stare at the space he occupied, the weight of what’s coming pressing down on me like a physical force. I’m left alone with the ghosts of two brothers—one dead, one hunting me.

I reach under my bed for another pocket shot.