Page 57 of Goldrage (The Chrysophilist Trilogy #3)

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

AURELIA

T he world doesn’t feel real. Am I dreaming?

I want to be dreaming.

Adrian’s shoulders curve forward under the weight of Julian’s body as we move through the mansion.

Each step echoes through empty hallways that minutes ago thundered with gunfire.

Now there’s only this: the soft shuffle of feet, the ragged breathing of survivors, the silence that comes after destruction.

Only, I thought my story would have a different ending.

My legs move without thought. One foot. Then another.

Two men. Two huge pieces of my heart just…

Adrian holds his brother like cradling a baby. Julian’s arm hangs loose, swaying with each movement like he’s only sleeping. Like he might wake up and flash that cruel smirk, make some cutting remark about how we all look like shit.

But he won’t .

A sob catches in my throat. I swallow it down and look away.

I loved him. I gave him my heart and I never wanted it to end this way. I really believed Adrian when he said we could save Julian.

But he was too far gone.

He deserved so much better; he was only a lost boy playing at being a monster. Trying so hard to be what everyone expected that he forgot he could choose differently.

I only pray his soul is finally at peace.

We reach the hallway where Valentine fell, and I can’t look at him either. His body is turning blue and rigid and… that’s not Valentine anymore. My father is long gone.

I swallow another sob. I need to stay strong until we’re finally away from all this bloodshed.

Lorenzo kneels beside Valentine’s body. His movements are careful, reverent, as he slides his arms beneath the man who taught me to shoot, to fight, to survive everything except this new reality.

“Let me,” Lorenzo murmurs to no one in particular.

I watch him lift Valentine like he weighs nothing. Like all those years of protection and lies and love can be carried in two arms.

We stumble outside into night air that tastes like gun smoke. There are bodies scattered around, and I don’t even want to think about what the ballroom must look like now. Just the passing thought of the ballroom makes my stomach twist.

I’m trying to be strong, but I can’t hold it in. I dart to a rose bush and vomit. It’s so violent that I fall to my knees, retching painfully.

I smell Eleanora’s perfume then feel a soft hand rubbing my back. “It’s okay,” she says. “Just let it out.”

I wipe my mouth and shake my head. “No. Let’s just leave this nightmare.”

She helps me up and gives me a handkerchief to clean my mouth. We walk back to Adrian and Lorenzo just as Olivia emerges from shadows near the gates. Her gaze lands on Julian’s body in Adrian’s arms, then on Valentine, and she looks genuinely distraught.

“I’m so sorry,” she says to us. Then she raises her hand. Men materialize from the darkness—her people, efficient and silent. They approach Adrian with the slow movements of those who understand grief.

Everyone who was part of this fallen Consortium understands grief. Everyone has lost someone.

One of Olivia’s men holds his arms out to take Julian.

“No.” Adrian’s voice cracks on the word. His arms tighten around Julian, pulling his brother closer to his chest. “Don’t touch him.”

I touch Adrian’s shoulder. I can see the weariness and exhaustion in his face. “Adrian,” I say gently. “Let them help.”

His blue eyes find mine. There’s so much despair that it’s hard to hold his gaze. Tears slide through the dirt and blood on his face, and God, he looks so young. Like the boy I fell in love with before the world taught us how much loving costs.

“They’ll be respectful,” Olivia says, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I promise you. We’ll prepare them both with care.”

Adrian’s whole body shakes with a tremor that starts in his chest and radiates outward until I think he might shatter right here on the gravel drive. He bends forward and presses his lips to Julian’s forehead in a goodbye.

“Brother,” he weeps. “How can I…” His words dissolve into sobs and I rub his back, fighting back my own tears.

Not yet. Not until I’m away from this place forever.

When Adrian finally nods, it’s barely visible. Olivia’s men step forward. One takes Julian like he’s made of glass. Another helps with Valentine.

I want to say something or whisper goodbye to the man who raised me and to the boy who treated me as an equal as we grew up together. But words feel too small for this moment.

And they’re no longer here to listen to my goodbyes.

Adrian pulls out his phone with hands that won’t stop shaking. He hits a number, brings it to his ear. “Now,” he says weakly.

For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then?—

The explosion knocks me back a step. Fire erupts from the estate’s windows, orange tongues licking at the night sky. The heat hits us even from here, a wave of destruction that makes my skin sting.

“Jesus,” I breathe, stumbling backward.

Adrian pulls me against him, keeping me steady as I watch. I can’t believe he rigged it. The whole fucking estate. Ready to burn at his command.

We stand there, all of us, watching the Harrow legacy slowly disintegrate. Flames devour the halls where generations of Harrow men created an infection they could spread to others—their children, their wives. The innocents.

All of it burns.

Lorenzo’s hand finds my elbow, and he glances between me and Adrian. “Come on,” he says gently. “We need to go.”

He guides us toward a black SUV. Roby climbs into the front passenger seat, his young face pale. Lorenzo slides behind the wheel.

Eleanora takes the middle row. She reaches for me as I climb in, her fingers wrapping around mine to lend me some of her strength.

I squeeze back, grateful for her support through all of this.

I no longer care what secrets she’s keeping, because she’s the best fucking friend anyone could ask for. I’m so thankful she’s in my life.

Adrian follows me in. His movements are mechanical, like he’s barely aware of what’s happening. His eyes are vacant as they stare down at the floor.

I take his hand. His fingers are ice against my palm. And his entire body is silently trembling.

The engine starts. We pull away from the burning estate, from the bodies being loaded into unmarked vans, from the end of the only life we’ve ever known.

I watch the flames until distance swallows them. Until all that’s left is smoke rising against stars.

The road stretches before us, dark and endless. I turn from the window to find Adrian still staring at nothing.

When the tears come, they come for both of us. The dam breaks all at once—great, heaving sobs that shake our bodies until we can’t tell where his grief ends and mine begins. We fall into each other, a tangle of loss and relief and the terrible weight of survival.

Adrian’s arms wrap around me like he’s drowning. Like I’m drowning. Like we’re both going under and all we have is each other to hold onto. His tears wet my shoulder. Mine disappear into his ruined jacket.

We cry for Julian—the boy he was, the monster he became, the brother Adrian couldn’t save. We cry for Valentine and all his imperfect love. For the poison the Harrows spread through generations.

We cry because we’re alive. Because surviving feels like another kind of dying.