Page 96 of Shadows of the Past
“I know it’s probably just my mind, wanting to believe she’s proud of me. That I did what she asked. And he suffered, Juls. I swear to you, he suffered.”
How do I tell him Vera is proud? That it’s finally over, that he can breathe again? How do I say that, when his whole existence has revolved around this revenge?
I turn to face him, cupping his cold cheeks. His eyes are glassy, impossibly light, every scar and pore etched in the dim light. For a heartbeat, I see not the man, but the five-year-old boy who survived so much. The boy who loved a girl stolen toosoon. The boy who became a hero to so many even as his own hands grew stained with blood. My heart threatens to burst.
“I know you made him scream. I know he suffered. And I know, wherever she is, Vera is so damn proud of you, Max. You honored her memory. You never gave up even when anyone else would’ve taken the easy way out. I’m so grateful I have you.”
I look at the place where we first met, where he gave me my first kiss, my first touch, where this place broke him and so many others. I pull a remote from my pocket.
“Want to do the honors?” I ask.
He just looks at me for a long moment then gently tucks a stray lock of hair beneath my beanie.
“You told me, back at the beginning, you didn’t want a hero. You wanted someone who’d help you burn this place down when we finally left. So the honor’s all yours, sweetheart.”
He rarely calls me that, usually it’s just Juls or Julia. We’ve never been public, always meeting in the shadows, out of sight. But that word, sweetheart, now feels raw, honest, and trembling with emotion, and it takes me a moment to process.
I lick my lips, eyes locked on the mansion that built and broke us, and press the button.
Ten charges light up the night, flames licking up the walls, devouring every inch of the house that consumed us. The fire dances in my eyes, and something like hope stirs in my chest. I want to tell my heart to wait, to be patient, but when a soul is starving for even a scrap of joy, it grabs hold of whatever it can.
We climb into the car and watch as the fire consumes our past, every memory, every scar. I don’t know if it’s the flames or the freedom, but I turn to Max, close the distance, and slip into his lap.
“Juls,” he breathes, eyes fixed on my mouth.
I don’t look away as my hands find his belt, his zipper, freeing him. I see the hunger spark in his gaze as his fingers slide my pants down. Thank God for my flexibility because there’s barely room, but I manage to straddle him in nothing but my underwear, heat radiating off my skin.
“Show me what our future looks like,” I whisper, biting his lip.
“Jesus, Julia.”
I love him like this—eyes dark, voice thick with need, tension humming between us. His hands grip my waist, guiding me forward, back, making me feel every inch of him, separated only by a scrap of lace. It’s torture, and he knows it. I know the moment he finally pushes inside will be explosive, and I’m desperate for it.
“Lose that fucking underwear, Julia,” he growls, his voice fraying at the edges.
I want to obey, but as my hand grazes the damp fabric, I can’t help teasing, my voice innocent. “This?”
“Julia! What did I say about teasing?”
Oh, I know. He’s shown me just how ruthless he can be when I push him. But I can’t help myself.
His eyes flash, and I want to drown in the storm. His hand covers mine, shoving the lace aside. Through gritted teeth, he promises, “I’m going to make you scream for that, sweetheart.”
I can’t hide my smile. “I can’t wait,” I murmur against his lips.
He pulls me down in one swift motion, filling me, his mouth pressed to my neck, his hips setting a brutal rhythm. This is release, hunger, the desperate need to lose ourselves in each other.
“I could be born a thousand times, endure it all again, lay my soul bare for every monster in this world…just for a few minutes with you, Juls.”
And in the glow of the burning house, in the heat of his arms, I believe him.
My throat tightens painfully, but I don’t know what to say. The truth hits me hard: that I’d do anything for him, allow anything, just to know he’s waiting for me at the end of it all. The realization sends a wave of emotion crashing through my chest.
“I love you.”
In all these years, Max has never said it back, but I've kept my promise to say it enough for both of us. I know he doesn’t really understand what love is—he never had a stable example—but I do. I saw it in my parents. And I see it every day in the way he makes my coffee so I can sleep ten minutes longer. I see it in every call he makes after a mission, just to let me know he’s safe. I see it in the way he fights to rid the world of some of its darkness.
He does it for all the innocent souls, but also for me, for my sisters, who could have been victims too.
