But he’s here. He’s alive. He came back.
“Julian.” His name comes out broken.
I cross to him in three steps. My arms wrap around him instinctively as I press my face against his chest.
He holds me. I feel his arms tighten, feel him exhale like he’s been holding his breath for hours. His chin rests on top of my head.
“Is it over?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Is he—” I hesitate. “Did you—”
“He’s not dead.” Julian’s voice is rough. Tired. “But he won’t be a threat anymore. Not to you. Not to anyone.”
I pull back. Study his face—the tension in his jaw, the shadows under his eyes, the way he’s looking at me.
“What happened?”
He struggles for words. I watch him decide how much to tell me.
“We gave him what he wanted,” he says finally. “He spent 146 years telling me that death was too quick. That loneliness was the real punishment.” He closes his eyes. “So we gave him loneliness. Forever.”
“Julian. Where is he?”
“At the bottom of the ocean.” He opens his eyes. Meets mine. “Wrapped in silver chains. He’ll be conscious. Aware. Unable to escape. For as long as he exists.”
I let that sink in.
At the bottom of the ocean. Alone. Forever. Aware of every second, every minute, every century stretching out into endless dark.
I wait for the horror to come. The revulsion. The moment I realize I’ve fallen in love with someone capable of that kind of cruelty.
It doesn’t come.
“He killed three women,” I say. “Burned one alive. Drove another to suicide. Left the third on your bed like a message.” My hands tighten on his arms. “And he was going to do the same thing to me. To my family.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m not going to feel sorry for him.” The words come out hard and cold, and I don’t flinch from it. “Maybe that makes me a terrible person. But he made his choices for 146 years. Now he lives with them.”
“Forever.”
“Forever.” I pull him toward the couch. Sit him down beside me and tuck myself against his side. “You did what you had to do. What he forced you to do.”
“I keep thinking about who he used to be.” Julian stares at the brightening windows. “Before Vienna. Before any of this. He was my friend, Poppy. My brother. And now he’s—”
“Now he’s paying for his choices.” I find his hand. Squeeze. “That’s not your fault. That’s his.”
We sit in silence as the morning builds around us. The tropical sun pours through the windows, drenching everything in a radiant, golden haze. Somewhere in this resort, staff are preparing for a wedding. Guests are waking up, ordering room service, planning what to wear.
None of them know what happened on those cliffs. What sank beneath those waves.
And maybe that’s okay. Maybe some things don’t need to be known. Maybe protecting the people you love means carrying secrets they’ll never understand.
“Julian?”
“Yes?”
