Page 96 of Goldrage
Adrian pulls me closer, his lips brushing my ear. “Ready to end this?”
I think of my mother’s diary, of her horrible torture and death, the way I was imprisoned and humiliated. I think of Adrian bleeding in chains, of all the pain and death that’s brought us to this moment. My hand tightens on the gun at my side.
“I’ve been ready my whole life.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
JULIAN
The servant’s corridors wind through the building’s skeleton like arteries in a corpse. They’re dimly lit and rarely used except by staff. I follow my mother through the narrow passages, her heels clicking against worn linoleum as she maintains a frantic pace.
“This is all temporary,” Mother babbles as we move. Her voice echoes off the plain walls. “A setback, nothing more. We can rebuild, reorganize. The other families will see reason once their immediate grievances are settled. Half of them likely won’t survive, so we’ll reach out to lesser families. Build a stronger network.”
I nod mechanically, making the appropriate sounds of agreement while studying my mother with new eyes. Her black hair has come loose from its perfect bun, strands hanging around her face like cobwebs. Her makeup is smudged, her breathing labored, and for the first time in my life, I see her clearly—not as thepowerful matriarch she presents to the world, but as what she really is. She’s weak.
“We’ll go to the safe house in Vancouver,” she continues, her words tumbling over each other in her haste. “I have contacts there, people who owe me favors. We can coordinate a response, bring everything back into line.”
She’s small, I realize. Small and needy and desperately insecure beneath all the cruelty. Everything she’s done—the lies, the violence, the destruction of her own sons—has been driven not by strength or vision, but by her terror that, deep down beneath it all, she’s nobody.
“Julian, darling.” She reaches back to touch my arm as we approach a heavy oak door. “You’re being very quiet. I need to know you’re with me on this. We’re a team, aren’t we? We always have been. Just you and me. Always.”
“Of course, Mother. Whatever you think is best.”
We make our way to Lucian’s old office using an old elevator. When we enter, I glance up at the lion’s head on the wall.
“We’ll be safe here while I make calls,” Lady Harrow says, moving to the massive desk and reaching for the phone. “Everyone needs to understand that this attack on us threatens the entire Consortium structure, and we won’t stand for?—”
I slam the door closed and lock it behind me.
“Enough!” I roar, years of suppressed rage and pain and betrayal finally erupting in a torrent that shakes the mounted heads on their plaques. Lady Harrow spins toward me with wide, startled eyes as I transform before her into something she’s never seen.
“Two decades,” I snarl, starting to circle her. “Over two decades of this shit! You poison everything you touch with your fucking lies!”
Lady Harrow rubs her temples like my outburst means nothing and all it has resulted in is a headache. “Julian, please. Not now, we must?—”
“Shut up!” I advance on her. “You shot Adrian! You put a bullet in my brother and left him to die because he threatened your precious plans!”
“I didn’t?—”
“Yes you did. I’m finally done letting you deceive me. You fucking shot Adrian so just admit it and let’s stop this shit.”
Lady Harrow backs against the desk, her face shifting through confusion, fear, and calculation as she tries to find the right words to regain control of the situation. Her eyes finally drop to the floor in defeat. “You don’t understand. What I did was?—”
“You turned me against everyone I ever loved,” I roll over her, my voice building to a roar that makes the dead animals seem to raise their ears to listen. “You poisoned my relationship with Adrian, made me hate him for crimes he never committed. You manipulated Aurelia, gave her that hit list, planned her entire path just so you could control me!”
“Out of love! I did what I had to?—”
“For power!” I scream, spittle flying from my lips as decades of accumulated damage pours out of me like blood from a severed artery. “For your own sick need to control everything and everyone around you! You’redisgusting! You’re a disgusting excuse for a mother! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Lady Harrow finally cracks completely. Tears stream down her face as she sees the full extent of my anger. With her body trembling, she says, “Julian, I love you! Everything I did was because I love you!”
I only gape at her, and for a moment, the rage gives way to something more devastating—a bone-deep weariness that seems to turn me into an old man in seconds.
“If what you’ve shown me is love,” I say quietly, my voice suddenly calm, “then I don’t want it.”
I draw the pistol from my tuxedo jacket. It’s heavy in my grip. Lady Harrow’s eyes widen as she realizes what’s about to happen.
The first shot hits her in the stomach, the impact making her stumble back against the desk as blood blossoms across her silver gown. She slides down to the floor, her hands clutching the wound as she stares up at me.
