Page 130 of Goldsin

Somehow the more I kill, the less satisfied I feel. The adrenaline I felt with my first kill was intoxicating, but I just feel empty right now. The image of Victoria being burned alive scratches behind my eyes.

The people surrounding me don’t suspect me of anything. They think I’m one of them.

But I’m not. I just killed a woman. Set her on fire.

I know it was the right thing to do.The only thing to do.

So why do I feel like I’m losing a part of myself in the process?

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

JULIAN

Ascream pierces my sleep.

A scream so guttural, so loud, it sharpens the further it cuts through, shredding the foggy tendrils of my dream.

I bolt upright at the third shriek, my ears pounding in sync with my racing heart. Sweat clings to my body, foreshadowing this very moment. Like it knew long before now I would get woken up by cries for help.

But this isn’t one of those usual nights. My mom isn’t screaming because of my father. My mother is screaming for something else.

I can hear it in the rawness of each howl, more animal than human.

She isn’t screaming in pain, but for survival.

“Let him go!” Her words get swallowed by a scream—her scream—as desperation and anger meet.

I throw the covers off me, panic gripping my muscles as I stumble to my feet.

The house feels different. The air is denser. Nightshadows stretch out from the corners as the walls hold in their breath.

This isn’t one of her usual screams. No—this is different.

This is the sound of someone dying.

The house passes me by in disorienting shapes as I run to her bedroom, legs pushing me forward with the urgency coursing through them.

“No!”Her voice cracks.

And something inside of me breaks.

A blind panic consumes me whole. Not even the cold marble floor manages to ground me. I just want to reach my mom.

Bursting through the double doors, I frantically scan for her and find her pinned against the wall. Someone taller than Lucian cages her in, blocking my view of her.

Where is Lucian? Did he give her to this man for the night?

No. At least not in his own bed. At four in the morning.

“Get the fuck away from her!” I roar. Everything inside of me gets drowned out by the rage that conquers my rationality. “Touch her and I’ll skin you alive!” My fists clench.

I’ll skin him alive either way.

At the sound of my voice, the man wearing the ski mask backs away from my mother before shoving past me to escape.

His abrupt action knocks me off-balance, and all I catch is a glimpse of his retreatingfigure.

“Guards! Stop that bastard!” I blare, voice echoing down the corridor, throughout the whole house.

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