Page 1 of Goldrage (The Chrysophilist Trilogy #3)

CHAPTER ONE

AURELIA

T he cold marble floor beneath me is the first thing I register. Then pain. So much fucking pain.

My fingers twitch against the polished stone, trying to find something to grab onto, something to give me any sense of control as consciousness seeps back in like an unwelcome guest. There’s a stickiness under my cheek, pooled in a small puddle where my head has been resting for God knows how long.

I touch my neck, feeling the crude stitches along my throat. It throbs in sync with my pulse, a grotesque rhythm marking each second I’m still alive.

Julian’s knife. Julian’s hands. He cut me, then stitched me just enough to keep me from bleeding out.

“Adrian,” I whisper, the sound barely escaping my damaged throat.

God, what ? —

The memory slams into me. I see Adrian stepping in front of Julian’s bullet then crumpling to the floor. His eyes find mine as his blood spreads across his shirt. Then Julian lifts him with unexpected gentleness, carrying him away while I lay forgotten on the floor.

“Let’s get you home where you belong, brother. With me.”

And Lorenzo. The sharp crack of Julian’s gun. My cousin’s body falling, his eyes wide with shock. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.

My family.

Nausea crawls up my throat as I try to move and a stabbing pain radiates from my side.

I lift my shaking hand and find the source of the pain.

A bullet wound. I was shot. By Julian. Shot by the boy who once loved to run his fingers through my hair.

The man who once looked at me like I hung the fucking moon.

He shot me then dumped my body on the floor; he left me in front of his mother. Her words come back to me: “Now then, Golden One. Where shall we begin?”

That’s when I passed out. But I’m still alive? She hasn’t killed me?

My fingers trace over my bullet wound and I realize it’s been stitched shut. Someone stopped the bleeding?

“Enjoy your nap, dear?”

Lady Harrow’s voice sends ice through my veins. I force my eyes open fully, blinking against the harsh light streaming through the penthouse windows. How long was I unconscious? Hours? A lifetime?

Nothing makes sense anymore.

Lady Harrow’s red heels click against the marble in a slow circle around me. The sound reminds me of a metronome, measuring the beats until my death. She’s wearing a cream-colored dress and it’s clean and perfect; not a drop of my blood has touched her.

I track her movement without turning my head, refusing to show how much pain I’m in.

“Look at you,” she says. “The Golden One. Fallen from grace. Tarnished at last. But there’s an even deeper abyss for you to fall into.”

I try to push myself up, my arms trembling with the effort. My body feels distant and disconnected. Blood loss will do that to you. But I refuse to lie here at her feet like a sacrificial lamb.

“Where is he?” I bite out, my voice a ragged whisper.

Lady Harrow’s smile stretches across her face and she looks entirely too pleased with herself. “My son is tending to his brother. His real family.” She emphasizes the last word, twisting the knife. “How does it feel, dear? To be so easily discarded?”

I get to my knees, breathing through the pain. “Adrian. Where is?—”

“Where he belongs.” She circles closer, her movements like that of a predator toying with wounded prey. “And Julian has finally remembered where his loyalties should lie.”

I struggle to my feet, swaying dangerously because there’s nothing close to hold onto. The room tilts and spins around me, but I force myself to stand. Lady Harrow watches with amused interest and I really wish I had the strength to punch her in that smug mouth.

“You won’t win,” I say, each word scraping my throat. “Adrian won’t?—”

The slap comes without warning; her palm connects with my cheek with surprising force.

I stumble back and can’t stop my legs from buckling.

I crash back to the floor. The impact reverberates through my injured side, sending fresh waves of agony through my body.

I cry out and hate the sound—I don’t want to give this bitch the satisfaction of seeing me in pain.

“You dare speak his name?” Lady Harrow stands over me, her perfect face contorted with rage. “After everything you’ve done?”

I taste blood in my mouth but meet her gaze defiantly. I won’t cower to her ever again.

Her expression shifts and the rage gives way to something worse: pleasure.

She smooths her dress, composing herself with practiced elegance, and then smiles.

“The doctor said you’d survive a few days at least, so there will be a Consortium gathering tomorrow evening.

Everyone is so eager to see what will become of the Golden One.

And I must say, what I have planned will truly be my greatest show for them.

” She laughs and I can’t stop myself from shivering.

Somehow, I doubt there will be champagne and caviar for me.

“I’ve planned something special,” Lady Harrow continues, circling me again.

“A proper finale for your pathetic little revenge story.” She pauses, crouching beside me.

Her fingers trace the line of stitches on my neck, pressing just hard enough to make me wince.

“First, we’ll strip you bare before everyone.

The men have been asking for that privilege for years.

” Her perfectly manicured nail digs into my wound.

“Then, we’ll let them have their fun. One by one. Just like your mother.”

I swallow and ball my hands into fists against the floor. The image of my mother, trapped and used by these monsters, floods my mind.

“After they’re satisfied, we’ll begin the real entertainment.” Lady Harrow’s voice drops to a whisper that’s so intimate it’s terrifying. “I’ve always wondered how long it takes for someone to die from a thousand cuts. We’ll find out together.”

I swallow again because, for the moment, I don’t see a way out of this. I’m too injured to fight. Lorenzo is likely dead. Julian doesn’t care about me and he’s holding Adrian captive, who’s too injured to help anyway. Valentine betrayed me…

There’s absolutely no one coming to make some big rescue. And I fear I won’t be able to rescue myself this time.

Is this really my end? After all these years fighting for something better, this is how I go out?

Fear threatens to paralyze me, but I push it down, locking it away in that dark place inside where all my nightmares live. I might not get out of this, but I won’t go down easily.

“Julian won’t let you,” I say, even though I don’t believe it. But, really, that’s the only card I can play.

Lady Harrow laughs so hard she has to wipe moisture from her eyes. “Oh, my dear. My son has finally come to his senses.” Her eyes gleam with malicious triumph. “He chose his brother. He chose me. You were never anything but a distraction—a pretty toy he’s finally outgrown.”

My heart aches but not because her words hurt me like she intended. I’m actually happy for Julian and Adrian. They’re brothers, so they should be together. I just hope Lady Harrow doesn’t come between them again; I hope Julian won’t let her. I don’t want Adrian to ever be alone with her.

Lady Harrow’s hands grip my shoulders, and her nails dig into my flesh as she forces me down and onto my stomach. I try to resist, but my body is too weak from blood loss and exhaustion.

“Stay down where you belong,” she hisses, pressing the tip of her high heel against my gunshot wound.

White-hot agony explodes through me. I cry out, unable to contain it, the sound echoing off the cold walls of the penthouse. Lady Harrow’s face transforms with pleasure at my suffering, her eyes dilating into black holes as she leans into the pressure.

“I’m sorry. Does that hurt?” she asks, grinding her heel deeper.

The pain spirals outward, consuming everything until the edges of my vision blur. In the haze, I see my mother’s handwriting dancing across the pages of her diary.

They burn me when I cry, so I’ve learned to smile through the pain. I wonder if this is how I’ll die—piece by piece, stripped away until there’s nothing left.

After everything I’ve done, everyone I’ve killed in her name, here I am meeting the same fate. The same monsters surround me. The same cruelty .

The sound of the elevator’s soft ding barely penetrates my awareness. But Lady Harrow hears it, her head snapping up.

“I told you we weren’t to be disturbed,” she snarls toward the hallway.

Footsteps approach. It’s not a guard though. My heart jumps when I recognize the gait of those boots.

A familiar voice inhales sharply across the room.

“Enough, Liora.”

Valentine’s voice breaks through my pain-induced fog. I force my eyes open to see him standing in the archway, his usually impassive face drained of color. His gaze moves from Lady Harrow’s heel pressed against my wound to the blood pooling around me.

“This wasn’t the plan,” he says, his voice tight.

Lady Harrow removes her heel from my wound but doesn’t step back. “Plans change, my love. Julian left her to me.”

My love?

Oh God, Valentine, what have you been doing with her?

“Was this Julian’s order?” Valentine demands, stepping further into the room. “To torture her like this?”

Lady Harrow laughs, the sound brittle and sharp. “He left her to me, knowing exactly what would happen. My son understands what needs to be done.”

Valentine moves toward me with his hand extended to help me up. “No, Liora. You’re not doing this. She’s my?—”

“She’s what?” Lady Harrow cuts him off, smacking his hand away and stepping between us. “The girl who almost destroyed everything we’ve built? Who turned my sons against each other? Open your eyes to what she truly is.”

“She’s my daughter ,” Valentine says and gives her a death stare.

There’s a silence that falls over the room. Lady Harrow’s face contorts with rage.

“Your daughter .” She spits the words like venom. “Well, how touching. And yet where was this fatherly concern when we planned all of this? When you helped me manipulate her into killing for us?”

Valentine doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes another step toward me. I search his weathered face and those wrinkles that are darkened with age. I look for the truth, for some sign that the man who raised me wasn’t just another pawn in Lady Harrow’s game.

Can I even trust him to rescue me?

“That’s close enough.” Lady Harrow raises her hand, and two guards step into the room, weapons visible at their sides. I’ve never seen them before—not Julian’s usual men.

Valentine freezes, his eyes darting between the guards and me. “Liora, listen. This isn’t needed. You have everything you wanted and she’s no longer a threat. Let me take her somewhere to recover. We can still?—”

“Remove him,” Lady Harrow commands. “He’s forgotten his place.”

The guards move forward and grab Valentine’s arms. He struggles against them with everything he has; he’s stronger than his age might suggest. But another guard appears and the three of them overpower Valentine .

“Stay alive, do you hear me?” he shouts as they drag him toward the elevator. “Just stay alive, Aurelia!”

Our eyes lock, and I see genuine regret in his face—the first real emotion I’ve ever seen crack through his stoic mask. Then he’s gone, the elevator doors sliding shut behind him.

I don’t know how to feel since he betrayed me but… I wish we could talk. I wish he was still here.

Lady Harrow waits until the elevator’s soft hum fades before turning back to me. She sinks to her knees beside me, her cream dress pooling around her like spilled milk. Her hand strokes my hair in a very maternal way that makes me cringe.

She leans in close to whisper, “No one is coming to save you. Not Julian, not your precious Adrian, not even your so-called father. You’re completely abandoned.” Her fingers tangle in my hair, painfully tight. “You’ll die alone, just like your mother. But not quickly and not mercifully.”

The pain in my body is nothing compared to the cold dread settling in my chest. But I won’t show fear. I summon what little strength I have left and meet her gaze.

Then I spit in her face.

The glob of blood-tinted saliva hits her cheek, sliding down toward her perfectly lined lips. For a moment, she freezes, shock widening her eyes. Then she smiles—a terrible, serene smile that scares me more than any rage could.

“You’ll never break me, you bitch,” I say.

Lady Harrow wipes the spit from her face, never breaking eye contact.

“Oh, you poor sweet child. I’m beyond breaking you.

I’m simply going to enjoy pulling you apart piece by golden piece in front of everyone.

” She leans closer, her lips brushing my ear.

“And when I’m done, when there’s nothing left but a hollow shell, when you’re taking your very last breath…

I’ll tell you the truth about your mother.

About how she begged. About how she died.

About how she truly felt about the daughter she left behind. ”

She rises to her feet in one fluid motion, looking down at me with cold triumph. “Sweet dreams, Aurelia. Tomorrow, we give the Consortium a show they’ll never forget.”