Page 43 of The Devil's Canvas

I jump back and hit the wall.What the fuck am I thinking?

She called me. She wanted me to come. Protect and save her. She wants me,I think to myself.

But she isn't ready for this. Not yet. But soon.

Julian:Owen! I need you! Now!

Owen:What?

I think to myself,screw it.I open the link to all the guys.

Julian:Please! I need help!

No one responds.

Seconds later, they’re all there.

I make a mistake, though. I look into Ophelia’s eyes again. I can’t stop myself from lurching toward her, my body moving before my mind can catch up. Every cell in me screams to go back. To touch her. To pull her into my arms.

But arms clamp around me, dragging me back.

I snarl, fight, push forward—but they don’t let go. My legs still move, but I’m barely making ground.

Her name rips from my throat, a sound I don’t recognize, something between a plea and a demand.

"Julian, stop." A voice—distant, steady, barely cutting through the chaos.

Hands grip tighter. A force stronger than me, stronger than the bond, pulling me away.

"I got you. Let’s go." Damian.

No. No, no, no.I twist, fight harder, but they’re too many. The bond pulls like a noose around my ribs, tightening, burning, clawing at my insides.

"Ophelia!" The name rips from me like it’s the only thing I have left.

Darkness crashes down, swallowing me whole.

Chapter Nine

Ophelia

Julianisgone.Onesecond he was here, the next—nothing. Like he was never here at all. I knew he wasn’t human. Knew he had power. But knowing and seeing are two different things.

Now, I’m alone in my tiny studio. Well, not alone.

Five other guys stare at me, watching, waiting. One of them looks almost exactly like Julian, but I know immediately that he’s not. I don’t just see it—I feel it. Something in my gut tells me this is someone else entirely.

I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.

"So, you’re Julian’s mate," the lookalike says, his voice steady, almost bored.

My fingers twitch at my sides, uneasy, and that’s when I notice—my shirt has shifted. The mark is showing.

A sharp pulse of embarrassment crawls up my spine as I grab the fabric, pulling it closed, but it’s too late. They’ve already seen it. We all know they’ve seen it.

I press my fingers against the hem of my shirt and lift my chin, locking eyes with the one who spoke. "So what if I am?"

A low chuckle rolls through the room, deep and edged with amusement. The stranger smirks, tipping his head toward me. "Feisty. I like her."

---