Page 3 of Goldrage
Oh God, Valentine, what have you been doing with her?
“Was this Julian’s order?” Valentine demands, stepping further into the room. “To torture her like this?”
Lady Harrow laughs, the sound brittle and sharp. “He left her to me, knowing exactly what would happen. My son understands what needs to be done.”
Valentine moves toward me with his hand extended to help me up. “No, Liora. You’re not doing this. She’s my?—”
“She’s what?” Lady Harrow cuts him off, smacking his hand away and stepping between us. “The girl whoalmost destroyed everything we’ve built? Who turned my sons against each other? Open your eyes to what she truly is.”
“She’s mydaughter,” Valentine says and gives her a death stare.
There’s a silence that falls over the room. Lady Harrow’s face contorts with rage.
“Yourdaughter.” She spits the words like venom. “Well, how touching. And yet where was this fatherly concern when we planned all of this? When you helped me manipulate her into killing for us?”
Valentine doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes another step toward me. I search his weathered face and those wrinkles that are darkened with age. I look for the truth, for some sign that the man who raised me wasn’t just another pawn in Lady Harrow’s game.
Can I even trust him to rescue me?
“That’s close enough.” Lady Harrow raises her hand, and two guards step into the room, weapons visible at their sides. I’ve never seen them before—not Julian’s usual men.
Valentine freezes, his eyes darting between the guards and me. “Liora, listen. This isn’t needed. You have everything you wanted and she’s no longer a threat. Let me take her somewhere to recover. We can still?—”
“Remove him,” Lady Harrow commands. “He’s forgotten his place.”
The guards move forward and grab Valentine’s arms. He struggles against them with everything he has; he’s stronger than his age might suggest. But another guard appears and the three of them overpower Valentine.
“Stay alive, do you hear me?” he shouts as they drag him toward the elevator. “Just stay alive, Aurelia!”
Our eyes lock, and I see genuine regret in his face—the first real emotion I’ve ever seen crack through his stoic mask. Then he’s gone, the elevator doors sliding shut behind him.
I don’t know how to feel since he betrayed me but… I wish we could talk. I wish he was still here.
Lady Harrow waits until the elevator’s soft hum fades before turning back to me. She sinks to her knees beside me, her cream dress pooling around her like spilled milk. Her hand strokes my hair in a very maternal way that makes me cringe.
She leans in close to whisper, “No one is coming to save you. Not Julian, not your precious Adrian, not even your so-called father. You’re completely abandoned.” Her fingers tangle in my hair, painfully tight. “You’ll die alone, just like your mother. But not quickly and not mercifully.”
The pain in my body is nothing compared to the cold dread settling in my chest. But I won’t show fear. I summon what little strength I have left and meet her gaze.
Then I spit in her face.
The glob of blood-tinted saliva hits her cheek, sliding down toward her perfectly lined lips. For a moment, she freezes, shock widening her eyes. Then she smiles—a terrible, serene smile that scares me more than any rage could.
“You’ll never break me, you bitch,” I say.
Lady Harrow wipes the spit from her face, neverbreaking eye contact. “Oh, you poor sweet child. I’m beyond breaking you. I’m simply going to enjoy pulling you apart piece by golden piece in front of everyone.” She leans closer, her lips brushing my ear. “And when I’m done, when there’s nothing left but a hollow shell, when you’re taking your very last breath… I’ll tell you the truth about your mother. About how she begged. About how she died. About how she truly felt about the daughter she left behind.”
She rises to her feet in one fluid motion, looking down at me with cold triumph. “Sweet dreams, Aurelia. Tomorrow, we give the Consortium a show they’ll never forget.”
CHAPTER TWO
DANTE
Blood seeps through my fingers as I press my hand against my wound. Each heartbeat pushes more of my life onto the leather seat beneath me. The copper scent fills the confined space of the SUV, mingling with the cold sweat of pain and the lingering gunpowder from Julian’s weapon. My weapon, once. The same gun I taught him to shoot with when he was fourteen.
The vehicle hits a pothole, and searing agony explodes through my abdomen. I grit my teeth against the scream building in my throat. Years of my father’s “lessons” taught me to swallow pain, to keep it locked behind clenched jaws and steady eyes. Some habits never break, even when you’re dying.
And I might be dying. Again.
