Page 44 of Goldrage (The Chrysophilist Trilogy #3)

The raw agony in his voice shatters something deep in my core, something I didn’t even know was still intact. My body moves on its own, and suddenly I’m around the desk, crashing into him. His arms come up instantly, crushing me against his chest like he’s shielding me from Lucian’s blow.

We hold each other like we’re both bleeding out, like pressure is the only thing keeping us alive. His tears soak through my shirt. Mine drip onto his shoulder. Years of poison and manipulation pour out of us in ugly, wrenching sobs that would make Lucian sneer if he could see us now.

But fuck him. He was never my father.

“I’m here now.” Adrian’s words vibrate against my neck. “I’m here, I promise. And I’m not leaving you again. We’ll escape this together—you, me, Aurelia. It doesn’t matter whose child she’s carrying. We’re family. We’re brothers. Nothing else matters.”

His hand cups the back of my head like he used to do when I was small, when nightmares would send me creeping to his room. When I still believed big brothers could fix anything.

For a heartbeat, I let myself imagine it.

A house somewhere far from here. Mornings without blood on my hands.

Adrian teaching me things that don’t involve hurting people.

Aurelia’s laugh filling rooms with light instead of echoing in my nightmares.

The baby—my baby—growing up without the Harrow curse hanging over its head.

My child would love me with a pure innocence strong enough to beat back the darkness I let infect my heart.

I could learn to be human again.

The fantasy wraps around me, promising everything I’ve been denied.

It’s… everything I want. Everything I’ve secretly craved.

But it’s only fantasy.

And it shatters .

Because Adrian is here now. Now . Not then. Not when I truly needed him. Only now. After years of letting our mother feast on my soul. After watching from whatever shadow he hid in while I became everything I swore I’d never be. Now he wants to “protect” me?

All the warmth inside me turns to ice. I shove him back hard enough that he stumbles and only barely steadies himself by grabbing a chair.

“Now?” I roar. “You come to me now ? After years of letting me fend for myself?”

“Julian, I?—”

“No!” The scream is savage, threatening to destroy the entire world.

“You left me! It doesn’t matter who shot you because you fucking lived and then you left!

You left me to think you were dead and to deal with the horrors of leading all these sick fucking assholes.

I never wanted this power! I fucking needed you more than ever and you weren’t there.

You fucking left me alone with her , and now you want to play the hero? Now you want to save me?”

The rage is a living thing, clawing up my throat, burning through my veins. Every lonely night, every brutal lesson, every time I reached for a brother who wasn’t there—it all explodes outward.

“I’m so fucking tired of everyone telling me what’s best for my life!

Mother used me for her own ambitions. Valentine’s secret put me through hell.

Aurelia needed her revenge and trampled over me in the process.

And now you… you’re the worst of everyone.

Because you’re still here spewing bullshit that you love me and want to pr otect me, when all you’ve done is watch from the sidelines and abandon me.

And now you want me to run away and play house with you and your pregnant girlfriend? ”

Fresh tears spill down Adrian’s cheeks, his face crumpling like paper. “It’s not like that?—”

“Get out!” The words rip from my chest with enough force to leave me hoarse. “Get the fuck out of my sight! I don’t want your guilt, I don’t want your protection, and I sure as hell don’t want your pity!”

He reaches for me again, fingers stretching across the space between us. “Julian, please?—”

I yank my gun from its holster. The metal is cold, familiar, an extension of everything they’ve made me. I level it at his head, my hand steady despite the chaos tearing through me.

“Out! Or I swear to fucking God, I’ll hit your skull this time.”

The threat bounces off the walls. Adrian’s hand drops slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

He backs toward the door. The look on his face—that fucking look of pity and sorrow and love—makes me want to empty the entire clip into the wall. Into him. Into myself.

The door clicks shut behind him.

Alone.

Always alone.

That’s all I’ve ever been.

The gun trembles in my grip before I shove it back into its holster. My chest heaves like I’ve been running for miles, but I can’t catch my breath. Can’t stop the tsunami of emotion crashing through me, ripping apart everything I thought I knew about myself.

I pace the study like a crazed lunatic, my fingers tearing through my hair, yanking out strands. The pain isn’t enough. Nothing is enough. A sound pours from my throat—half scream, half sob—and suddenly I’m in front of the mirror hanging between two mounted deer heads.

My reflection stares back, wild-eyed and broken. This isn’t Julian Harrow, heir to the Consortium. This is just some pathetic bastard who’s been everyone’s puppet since birth.

My fist connects with the glass. The mirror explodes in a shower of silver fragments, and I hit it again. Again. Again. Until my knuckles are shredded meat and blood drips steadily onto the floor. The physical pain is a relief, something real in a world built entirely on deception

I stumble to the bar in the corner, reaching for the whiskey, but my hands are shaking too badly to pour. The bottle slips and liquid spills onto the floor.

Fuck it.

Fuck all of this.

My shaky hands reach for my gun again. I like the weight of it. Cold. Final.

I stare at the matte black metal, turning it over slowly. One squeeze. That’s all it would take. One tiny movement and all of this—the lies, the manipulation, the crushing weight of being nothing but a pawn in everyone else’s game—it would all just… stop.

This is the only way I’ll ever truly escape.

The bullet in this gun is my only peace.

But what about the child ?

I want that child. I need it.

But…

Maybe it doesn’t need me.

No one does.

The barrel is cool against my temple. My finger finds the trigger. I inhale a slow, final breath.

A knock at the door splits the silence. “Mr. Harrow?”

I flinch as the guard’s voice yanks me back from the edge. My hands are shaking so much, I almost drop the gun, so I holster it quickly. I stumble toward the door and open it.

“Mr. Harrow, do you need?—”

I shove past the guard without a word. His questions follow me down the hall, but they’re just noise. Everything is just noise.

Soon, I reach my bedroom. The door takes the full force of my rage as I slam it hard enough to rattle the paintings on the walls. I don’t give a fuck. Let the whole fucking estate shake apart. It’s not mine anyway, so I’ll happily see it burn.

I grab a whiskey bottle off my nightstand and unscrew the cap.

I start chugging. Maybe if I drink enough, fast enough, my body will just give up.

Maybe I won’t wake up tomorrow to face this nightmare that used to be my life.

The bottle is only half full, though, and considering how much I’ve been drinking lately, I doubt that amount is enough to poison me.

I collapse on the bed fully clothed, blood still seeping from my knuckles, and pull the covers over my head like I’m five years old again. Like the monsters can’t find me here in the dark.

But they’re already here, all around me.

Mother, playing god with my life to secure her own power.

Valentine, drowning in guilt but never enough to actually save me from Lucian’s fists.

Aurelia, wrapping her revenge in pretty words about love while she used me.

And Adrian—fuck, Adrian hurts the worst. My brother.

Who watched silently all along while I twisted myself into knots trying to survive.

They all had their games. Their schemes.

I was the only one without an agenda. I just wanted to fucking live. And I was the only one stupid enough to believe that love might be real, that family might mean something.

Lucian’s voice rings in my ears.

“Trust no one, boy. Everyone who claims to love you has an agenda. Everyone who offers you comfort wants something in return. In this world, you are alone—always alone. The sooner you accept that, the stronger you’ll become.”

That’s the only honest thing the bastard ever told me.

I am alone. Completely, utterly, devastatingly alone in a world where everyone sees me as a game piece to be moved or sacrificed according to their whims. My mother wants power. My biological father wants absolution. My brother wants redemption. The woman I loved wanted revenge.

No one ever just wanted me.

The sobs come harder this time, ugly and raw, muffled by my pillow. My whole body shakes from the force, years of suppressed emotion pouring out in waves that leave me gasping and choking on my own grief .

I want to choke.

I want to break apart.

I just want to die.

Lucian was right. He was always right.

Trust no one. Love no one. In the end, you are alone.

The only flicker of hope—pathetic as it is—is the child Aurelia carries. If it’s mine, maybe there’s one person in this world who might love me without an agenda. One tiny life that hasn’t been corrupted by the games everyone else plays.

I need that. Need it with a desperation that scares me.

I can keep going… but only for that child.

That baby is all I have left.

My sobs gradually fade to silence, leaving me empty. Something fundamental has died tonight, suffocated under the weight of too many truths. The boy who believed in love, in family, in the possibility of redemption—he’s gone forever.

What’s left is someone else. Someone who finally understands the rules of the game. Someone who won’t be anyone’s pawn ever again.