Page 107 of The Devil's Canvas

I freeze. My fingers curl tight around the base of the landline. The name lands like a slap across memory.

"Wait—what?" I breathe.

"Rhys. Rhys Westwood."

I blink. Like maybe that’ll change the name she just said. “The investigative reporter?”

"Yes," she replies, softer now. “He’s the reason the search for you never stopped. He kept digging when everyone else gave up. And… he and I are together now.”

"You and Rhys," I echo. My voice is hollow. “Wow.”

I close my eyes. It doesn’t matter. Not right now.

“Okay. Bring him,” I say. “Leave now.”

She responds, low but certain. “We’re on our way.”

Before I leave, I need to start packing up my stuff and quick. I don't want to be away from Julian for even a night.

Ophelia:Julian?

Julian:Yes, love? Are you ok?

I sigh in relief, I know he's trying to give me this, but I also know how hard it is for him to be out of the loop.

Ophelia:I'm fine, but I need your help. I want to clear out my apartment today. We can figure out what we're going to do with it later, but I want to get this part over with. I have to meet everyone soon.

Julian:Say no more. We're on it.

Ophelia:We?

He doesn't answer because he doesn't need to. He pops in along with his brothers and cousins.

“Go do what you have to do, little artist,” Julian murmurs, pulling me into his arms like he’s memorizing the feel of me.

I press my face against his chest, breathing him in—ink and fire and something softer that only exists when he touches me.

He tips my chin up. His eyes are molten gold in the light.

“We’ll handle things here,” he says. “Just come back to me.”

He kisses me—not rushed, not desperate. A promise sealed in fire and tenderness.

I close my eyes and slip through, landing behind a tall tree near the edge of the field. The grass is cool beneath my feet, the air still and charged with something I can’t name.

I don’t want to scare them, not after everything. But I need to see who’s here first. Who believed me enough to come.

Bella stands at the center, arms crossed, eyes scanning the trees. Rosalind is beside her, tense but hopeful. Rhys hovers close, his hand brushing Bella’s back. And Dominic… he’s here too. His posture is tight, like he’s bracing for impact.

Relief mixes with something sharper.

Something moves in the corner of my eye.

Two more figures storm across the field with the kind of fury that turns the air electric. Melanie and Cassius. And just like that, the moment shifts. What the hell are they doing here?

Cassius lifts his chin, like he’s delivering a final, brilliant twist in some grand speech.

“You think that’s the whole story?” he says, smugness curling through his tone. “You don’t understand the magnitude of what I did.” No one speaks. The silence crackles with unease. “I didn’t just trade a feeling,” he continues. “I corrected a mistake. A flaw in the bloodline.”

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