“That’s impossible.”
“He’s not responding.”
I stare at Kai, then at Julian, then at the foam now slicking the edge of his mouth. His body jerks again. His breath catches—stutters—then vanishes completely. Gone.
“No no no NO—”
I drop my forehead to his, press my ear to his chest. There’s something there—a faint flutter, a whisper of heartbeat. Barely. I look up. “Kai—fix it.”
Kai’s already drawing a dose—Naloxone, adrenaline, I don’t fucking care what it is. He jabs the syringe into Julian’s thigh, and the motion still makes my stomach lurch like I’m about to be sick. I wipe the foam from his mouth with my sleeve, hands shaking so badly I can barely keep them steady, muttering his name over and over like a prayer that might actually work if I say it fast enough.
Julian. Julian. Julian.
What the fuck is happening—
My eyes sweep the room in a frantic arc. Finn stands pale and frozen. Luca clutches Kai’s shoulder like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. Misha mutters low in Russian. Vlad is statue-still, face carved from stone. Ezio—
Gone.
“Where the fuck is Ezio?” I bark, voice raw enough to cut glass.
Everyone looks, but nobody answers. The shot glasses still sit on the table—every single one untouched, glittering under the lights like they’re mocking us, like they know exactly what just happened. I stare down at Julian in my arms, choking, lips turning blue, breath vanishing into nothing, and the truth slams into me like a blade between the ribs.
That snake poisoned him. He drugged my fucking boy.
And I am going to kill him for it.
Julian’s heart stops.
I feel it—not just under my palm pressed to his chest, but deeper, under my skin, under my ribs, in the sudden void he leaves when his body goes completely still. One second he’s convulsing, breath hiccupping, foam frothing at the corners of his mouth—and the next? He goes fucking silent. His chest doesn’t rise. His pulse doesn’t kick. His mouth falls open on nothing at all.
The scream that rips out of me could crack the compound in half. “JULIAN!!”
Kai’s already moving before the word finishes leaving my mouth—halfway into his emergency kit, yanking out defibrillator pads, barking clipped orders that barely register through the roar in my head. “Flatline—charging—get back!” he snaps.
But I don’t move. I can’t.
He’s in my fucking arms—my boy, my brat, my halo—cold and still and blue around the lips, not breathing. “Do something—FUCKING FIX HIM!” I snarl, voice cracking open, throat raw and bleeding. I’m not barking anymore. I’m begging. “Don’t you let him go, Kai. Don’t you fucking let him die.”
“Move,” Kai hisses. “Now.”
I don’t remember doing it, but I drop back just in time. The first jolt hits. Julian’s body jumps—violent, ugly—spine arching like it’s trying to snap in two. No sound. No breath.
“Again.”
Another shock.
I’m shaking—actually shaking. My hands lock into white-knuckled fists, knees slick with someone else’s blood, vision tunneling until all I can see is him. I can’t stop replayingthe way he smiled at me minutes ago, purring “sugary home” like I was something soft, something sweet, and now he’s—
“PUPPY!” I roar, snapping my head around, voice shaking the walls. “FIND THAT FUCKING SNAKE—I WILL KILL HIM IN FRONT OF HIS FUCKING FATHER!!”
Finn doesn’t hesitate. He’s already vaulting over the table, past spilled drinks and broken glass and half the team still frozen in shock. His eyes are wild. He doesn’t even put shoes on. He runs barefoot toward the exit, screaming bloody murder. “EZIOOOOOOO!!”
The others start moving too. Bishop grabs a bat. Luca grabs a knife. Misha’s laughing—soft and unholy—like he’s just been handed permission to massacre. Vlad doesn’t say a word. Just nods once, slow, and disappears into the shadows like death’s already been scheduled.
Back at the center of it all, Kai works like a machine—sweat tracing a line down his temple, blood streaking his hands and forearms. He’s already pushed another dose of adrenaline and has the pads charged again, ready for the next shock.
I’m on my knees beside him, no longer shouting. The rage has burned down to something quieter, more desperate. I whisper now, pleading, bargaining with whatever god might still be listening in this fucked-up building. “Come on, baby. Come on, Jules, breathe for me. Just once. One fucking breath. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him slow. Just come back.”
