Page 1 of Goldrage
CHAPTER ONE
AURELIA
The cold marble floor beneath me is the first thing I register. Then pain. So much fucking pain.
My fingers twitch against the polished stone, trying to find something to grab onto, something to give me any sense of control as consciousness seeps back in like an unwelcome guest. There’s a stickiness under my cheek, pooled in a small puddle where my head has been resting for God knows how long.
I touch my neck, feeling the crude stitches along my throat. It throbs in sync with my pulse, a grotesque rhythm marking each second I’m still alive.
Julian’s knife. Julian’s hands. He cut me, then stitched me just enough to keep me from bleeding out.
“Adrian,” I whisper, the sound barely escaping my damaged throat.
God, what?—
The memory slams into me. I see Adrian stepping in front of Julian’s bullet then crumpling to the floor. Hiseyes find mine as his blood spreads across his shirt. Then Julian lifts him with unexpected gentleness, carrying him away while I lay forgotten on the floor.
“Let’s get you home where you belong, brother. With me.”
And Lorenzo. The sharp crack of Julian’s gun. My cousin’s body falling, his eyes wide with shock. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.
My family.
Nausea crawls up my throat as I try to move and a stabbing pain radiates from my side. I lift my shaking hand and find the source of the pain. A bullet wound. I was shot. By Julian. Shot by the boy who once loved to run his fingers through my hair. The man who once looked at me like I hung the fucking moon.
He shot me then dumped my body on the floor; he left me in front of his mother. Her words come back to me:“Now then, Golden One. Where shall we begin?”
That’s when I passed out. But I’m still alive? She hasn’t killed me?
My fingers trace over my bullet wound and I realize it’s been stitched shut. Someone stopped the bleeding?
“Enjoy your nap, dear?”
Lady Harrow’s voice sends ice through my veins. I force my eyes open fully, blinking against the harsh light streaming through the penthouse windows. How long was I unconscious? Hours? A lifetime?
Nothing makes sense anymore.
Lady Harrow’s red heels click against the marble in a slow circle around me. The sound reminds me of a metronome, measuring the beats until my death. She’swearing a cream-colored dress and it’s clean and perfect; not a drop of my blood has touched her.
I track her movement without turning my head, refusing to show how much pain I’m in.
“Look at you,” she says. “The Golden One. Fallen from grace. Tarnished at last. But there’s an even deeper abyss for you to fall into.”
I try to push myself up, my arms trembling with the effort. My body feels distant and disconnected. Blood loss will do that to you. But I refuse to lie here at her feet like a sacrificial lamb.
“Where is he?” I bite out, my voice a ragged whisper.
Lady Harrow’s smile stretches across her face and she looks entirely too pleased with herself. “My son is tending to his brother. His real family.” She emphasizes the last word, twisting the knife. “How does it feel, dear? To be so easily discarded?”
I get to my knees, breathing through the pain. “Adrian. Where is?—”
“Where he belongs.” She circles closer, her movements like that of a predator toying with wounded prey. “And Julian has finally remembered where his loyalties should lie.”
I struggle to my feet, swaying dangerously because there’s nothing close to hold onto. The room tilts and spins around me, but I force myself to stand. Lady Harrow watches with amused interest and I really wish I had the strength to punch her in that smug mouth.
“You won’t win,” I say, each word scraping my throat. “Adrian won’t?—”
The slap comes without warning; her palm connectswith my cheek with surprising force. I stumble back and can’t stop my legs from buckling. I crash back to the floor. The impact reverberates through my injured side, sending fresh waves of agony through my body. I cry out and hate the sound—I don’t want to give this bitch the satisfaction of seeing me in pain.
