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I watch as Aurora pivots, and her eyes shoot daggers at my father. "Shut the fuck up!" Her voice shatters the chaos, sharp and commanding, leaving silence in its wake.
The tension mounts, but it’s Damien’s voice that booms in the room. “What was your plan, Aurora? Were you scheming with Jackson?” Damien’s eyes widen as realization dawns. “You’re the informant.”
A sardonic laugh escapes Aurora as she stares at Damien with defiance. "Yes, once you were dead, I would have all the power,” she sneers. “I was tired of living in our mother's image. Of being in your shadow. Of being treated like a commodity instead of a person!" Her words are laden with years of pent-up frustration, ringing through the suddenly still air.
“Our mother is dead because of you!” Damien yells.
“Good riddance to her,” Aurora replies as she walks over and starts untying me.
Julian's laughter grates on my nerves. "Man, and I thought my family was fucked up," he says, oblivious to the tense atmosphere. "Your family drama is like a soap opera."
I barely register the cold metal against my temple as my father points his gun at me. His expression is a maelstrom of hatred and desperation. Damien's voice slices through the room, sharp and deadly.
"Don't touch her," he warns, the threat carried in the timbre of his voice.
My father, perhaps driven to madness by his rapidly unraveling plans, ignores the command. The gunshot from Damien's weapon is a cracking whip in the air. My father crumples, his eyes wide with an incredulity that mirrors surprise. It betrays a final moment's realization that mirrors shock rather than acceptance.
The last of Aurora's men edges closer to Seraphina, and with a fluidity that belies his earlier levity, Julian points his gun, no trace of humor left in his glare.
"Touch my sister and die," he snarls a command that echoes with a chilling finality. I'm bewildered at how swiftly he shifts from carefree to callous.
The man lifts his hands calmly, signaling peace. "I'm just going to untie her," he claims, and that simple gesture momentarily lowers the weapons trained on him.
"Sister?" Seraphina questions, her voice threading through the heavy silence that's fallen after the gunshot's echo.
Confusion laces her tone. It's as if she's grappling with a puzzle that doesn't fit. Julian's caring look softens the otherwise hardened lines of his face, reflecting a tenderness that seems almost out of place in the charged air.
"You're my little sister," he explains, a note of protectiveness threading his words. "You don't know me because I don't associate with the Hawthorns, but I've been watching over you since you were born." There's a gravity to his confession, a weight to the words that suggest years of secrets tucked away in the shadows of our family's legacy. "You’re the only thing good that’s come from that family."
Seraphina's eyes widen. She's visibly trying to connect the dots, to make sense of the revelation that's unraveling the fabric of what she thought was true. "Who are you?" The question hangs in the air, poised between skepticism and the need to know.
"I'm Julian Warren,” he says. His name carries a reputation even I've heard whispers of. A man who commands the streets, a ghost in the underworld, and a mystery until now. There's pride in his nod, a silent acknowledgment of the power he wields. "And Ethan won’t be sticking his dick in another woman ever again. No one cheats on my sister and gets away with it."
The bluntness of his words cuts through the tension, leaving a raw edge in its wake. Seraphina just stares, lost in the enormity of the moment, trying to absorb the magnitude of Julian's existence in a world she thought she understood.
As the man loosens the binds around Seraphina's wrists, I feel the tension bleed out of my shoulders; the relief is short-lived, though. No sooner does Seraphina stand than a sharp pain scorch my scalp. Aurora grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me back, using me as a shield between her and the anger of the room. My scalp burns, and my eyes water from the sudden assault.
Victor reacts with the swiftness of a striking snake, with his arms wrapping around Seraphina and pulling her out of harm's way, close to his chest.
"Take your fucking hands off my sister if you want to walk out of here alive," Julian spits out towards Victor, the threat in his voice leaving no room for negotiation.
I catch the brief moment of hesitation in Victor's eyes before he concedes, releasing Seraphina but staying within an arm's reach as if an invisible lifeline connects them.
"Release Isabella," Damien's voice booms in the room.
Instead of complying, Aurora's grip on my hair tightens, with a twisted sneer distorting her features. Pain laces through my head as she uses me to defy Damien's command. I suppress a cry, not giving her the satisfaction, even as the primal fear begins to coil in my stomach.
"No," she hisses.
Aurora backs up, dragging me clumsily with her as a living barricade. There's the cold press of metal against my palm, and I realize she's pushed a gun into my hand while still maintaining control over me with her gun. There’s a dangerous dance of power-play. Her words slither into my ears.
"Thank you for doing all of the heavy lifting, brother,” She sizes Damien up with eyes full of venom and the twisted satisfaction of betrayal. "Now, I'll get the money and the power." I can feel the hard insistence of the gun she's pressing into my side.
"Shoot Damien," she orders me in a voice of steely calm and underlying madness.
I'm shocked by her demand. "What?" is all I can muster, my voice breaking. "I'm not killing my husband." The words feel surreal, even as I hear them.
Unsatisfied with my response, Aurora pulls my hair tighter, tilts my head back, and jams the gun against me with more force. Pain radiates through my scalp, and the chilling metal feels like it's seeping into my bones. Desperation begins to singe my thoughts, and I'm acutely aware of the magnitude of the moment. Choices, consequences, life, and death are all poised on the edge of a knife.
