Page 17 of Goldrage
Mother smiles. “Does it matter? She’s gone, just as you wanted.”
“I want to know.”
She sighs like I’m a child asking tedious questions. “I had our men take her to the warehouse. A bullet to the head. It was quick and clean.” She moves to the bar, pouring herself some wine with movements that are too casual for discussing murder. “I considered something more elaborate, but efficiency seemed prudent.”
The whiskey turns to acid in my stomach. Quick. Clean. As if Aurelia could ever be reduced to something so simple.
“Where’s the body?” I watch her carefully, paying attention to every micro-expression. “I want to see it.”
“Whatever for?”
I can’t tell her about the hollow ache spreading through my chest like a virus. And I’ll never admit I need to see Aurelia one last time, need to look at her face and convince myself this was right, that I made the only choice that mattered. That I chose family over—over whatever the fuck we were.
“Just answer the question.”
Her eyes narrow to slits, and for a moment I glimpse something cold behind the mother who’s always taken care of me. “It’s been disposed of. These matters require discretion, Julian. You know that.”
“Disposed of how?”
“We burned it.” The words crack like a whip, her composure finally breaking. Her tone has bite. “Really, Julian, this obsession with that girl needs to stop. She’s dead. Focus on what matters. Your brother is back, and we’re a family again. Now, is there anything else?”
I sigh. “No. You can go.” I turn back to the monitorsbefore she’s even reached the door. Her heels click down the hallway, fading like Aurelia will. Eventually.
She fucking burned the woman I once loved?
Reduced to ash and smoke. Nothing left to bury, nothing left to mourn.
Why does that hurt more?
I slap my cheek. Then again.
Grow some fucking balls.
Adrian has stopped crying, but what remains might be worse. He’s staring at the ceiling now with eyes so empty they could be glass, reflecting nothing, feeling nothing. I recognize that look—it’s the same one that greets me in every mirror. That void inside me… I think it’s eaten whatever used to make me human.
But that’s what the Consortium needs, isn’t it? Lucian took what had been given to him as a young man and grew it into a living thing that thrived beyond anyone’s hopes. And, in his own fucked-up way, he showed me exactly how to maintain it.
I’ve fed it my soul; that’s the only way.
The whiskey calls again, and I answer, pouring until the crystal threatens to overflow. But no amount of alcohol can touch the real pain; it doesn’t even come close to numbing what shouldn’t exist in the first place.
Aurelia is gone. I’ll never see those curls catch fire in the sunlight again. Never feel her body arch against mine as I push into her wetness. Never hear her laugh—that sound that could make me forget my own name, forget everything except the need to hear it again.
But… these feelings are only remnants of my old self asit continues to wither. They don’t have to weigh me down. They can just sit there, ignored.
My fingers move across the security console, switching to wider views of the estate. There are guards at every entrance and enough firepower to fuel a small Army outpost. This fortress, hidden behind a forest and protected by walls that have witnessed unspeakable acts, is what matters now—keeping Adrian safe. Soon, I’ll make him understand that this is home, that we belong together in this house where our father taught us both what power truly means.
My vision for the future is simple: Adrian and me, standing side by side at the head of the Consortium. His strategic brilliance balanced by my willingness to do what needs to be done. Brothers united, fucking unstoppable. No more lies, no more divided loyalties. Just us against a world that would devour us separately but can never touch us together.
He’ll understand eventually. We’re family. We’re all that matters now.
I finish my drink and ignore the voice that whispers from some deep, disobedient place inside me. It wants to know if I’ve made the worst mistake of my life. Has more than just her body been burned? Have I incinerated the last part of me that knew how to feel anything beyond this void?
The whiskey has no answer. Neither does Adrian.
Neither do I.
CHAPTER SEVEN
