Page 5 of Goldrage
As we pull to a stop in the circular driveway, Julian turns to the driver. “Take him to the basement.” His voice is flat. “Make sure the doctor fixes his wound. I need him alive.”
The basement. My father’s private interrogation chamber, soundproofed and reinforced. I’ve witnessed confessions extracted there and seen men reduced to begging shadows of themselves. Is that my new prison?
Two guards open the door beside me and rough hands pull me from the vehicle. As they drag me out, I lock eyes with Julian one final time. I don’t speak—there’s nothing to say that would reach him now. But in the silence between us, I make a promise to myself and to the boy he once was.
I will save you from this. From yourself.
I’ve failed my brother before. I won’t fail him again.
The guards half-carry, half-drag me toward the house. Each step sends fresh waves of agony through my body. I need to heal quickly, to find a way out, to rescue Aurelia before it’s too late. And I must save my brother from the darkness consuming him. There’s no other option.
But currently, the blood loss is too severe. Black edges creep into my vision and I feel painfully cold. My last thought before darkness claims me is of Aurelia—her fierce green eyes, the way she looked at me when she learned I was alive, the taste of her lips against mine.
Hold on, my Beautiful One. Just hold on.
CHAPTER THREE
AURELIA
The corner of Lady Harrow’s bedroom has become my personal hell. My wrists burn where the rope cuts into my skin, and I’m tied so tightly that my fingers have gone numb. My jaw is throbbing from Lady Harrow knocking me out. Every position sends fresh agony through my gunshot wound, and the stitches along my throat feel like they’re tearing with each shallow breath I manage.
The pain is a living thing now, pulsing through every nerve ending. My side throbs in rhythm with my heartbeat, each pump of blood a reminder of Julian’s bullet. I remember the way he looked at me in that moment—not with love or even hatred, but with the cold indifference of someone disposing of garbage.
That wasn’t my Julian. That was the monster his mother created.
I sway to the side as I’m huddled in a corner. My vision is gray and fuzzy. But I won’t let unconsciousness take me; I’m going to look death in the eye.
Lady Harrow moves through her bedroom like she’s choreographing a ballet, her phone pressed to her ear as she coordinates tomorrow’s horror show. Her voice carries the same tone she might use to plan a dinner party.
“Yes, yes. Wonderful. The white silk gown will do perfectly.” She pauses by her vanity mirror to check her reflection. “Something virginal. Innocent.” Her eyes find mine in the reflection, and she smiles. “Yes, it’ll get bloody.” The person she’s talking to must make a joke because Lady Harrow listens and then lets out a shrill laugh.
God, she’s completely in her element.Thisis who she’s been all along, yet Julian never saw it?
He never wanted to.
I shift against the wall, needing to find some position that doesn’t feel like torture, but my body protests. I can’t even tell what’s hurting most from the new position because I feel pain everywhere. I suck in a few shaky breaths, trying not to pass out.
“The platform should be elevated,” Lady Harrow continues into the phone, now strolling toward the window. “Everyone needs to see clearly. This is theater, after all.”
Theater. That’s what my death is to her—entertainment for the Consortium’s twisted appetites.
I close my eyes and let Adrian’s face fill my mind. Not the controlled, distant Adrian from our ten years together, but the man I discovered at Lorenzo’s estate. I think of the way his blue eyes softened when he lookedat me. How he was so tender and gentle as he shaved my legs, kissing each of my scars like they showed my strength instead of my shame.
“I’d die a second time for you if I had to.”
His voice echoes in my memory, and I cling to it. Adrian. My Adrian.
When Lady Harrow finally kills me tomorrow—and she will be the one to do it after everyone else tortures me first—I want Adrian to be my last thought. I want to remember what it felt like to be loved completely, to be held safe and secure in a beautiful world without all this darkness.
God, please help Adrian survive.
I need him to survive whatever Julian has planned. He has to complete his mission and bring this whole fucking empire crashing down. Maybe then my mother’s death and my own will mean something.
“The timing is crucial,” Lady Harrow says, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she continues her circuit around the room. “We’ll start at sunset. The lighting must be dramatic.”
I want to roll my eyes but don’t because I’m afraid even that movement will increase my pain. Dramatic lighting for my execution. Because God forbid the Consortium’s entertainment lacks proper aesthetics.
“Security will be doubled, naturally,” Lady Harrow continues. “We can’t have any… interruptions.”
