Goldsin (The Chrysophilist Trilogy Book 1)
Goldsin: Chapter 24

I push my legs, running with all my strength through the corridor.

My heart pounds in sync with the sound of my heels. Figures shift form in the shadows as I pass them in a blur. One of the gold foxes is following me—maybe all three of them. All I know is that I can’t let fear deliver me into their arms without a fight. I’m not easy prey like my mother was. I have claws, and I intend to scratch back.

I breathe through my nose, my legs threatening to buckle under me, but I force myself onward, using the memory of my mother to sharpen my resolve. Her pain blocks any surfacing doubt.

The mysterious guy with the red fox mask gave me a hiding spot, and I’ll use it. Just not now. Right now I need to get to the kitchen and procure a weapon.

I round the corner and see the kitchen door looming ahead. Sprinting, I head toward it, but a vase perched on a small table catches my attention. Without hesitation I throw it behind me, sending it crashing down onto whoever is following me, hopefully slowing them down and giving me enough time to search for a knife.

They probably hid every dangerous utensil for the party . . . or maybe not. After all, what fun would it be for their twisted games if they couldn’t play a little?

Yanking open the drawer closest to me, air whooshes from my lips at the sight of glinting blades. Of course they didn’t put the knives away. They want the foxes to have some fun.

I wrap my fingers around the handle just as a body slams into me from the side. Air gets knocked out of me along with the knife as it slides from my grasp. Cold tile stings my cheeks next as I land with a hard thud.

“Let go!” I shout as desperation fuels me to get myself free.

Wrestling, I struggle against the mass of the body pinning me down. But it’s futile. Whoever is above me knows how to restrain a body. The thought leaves a lingering sense of dread as adrenaline surges within me. I throw my elbow behind me in a haphazard manner and hit something hard. The painful grunt that follows confirms I got the asshole in the face.

He pushes himself off my back, distracted by the unexpected blow, and I use the opportunity to roll onto my side and push him further away, until I’m free to drag myself toward the knife.

“Get back here!”

I’m too busy stretching my fingers toward the blade to identify who he is, let alone to follow his orders. I feel my nails break with the pressure I’m putting them under as I claw at the floor, trying anything to reach the knife faster.

“You little bitch,” I hear him snarl.

My fingers are inches away from the knife—so close that when his hand latches onto my ankle and yanks me away I scratch my skin on the blade as I make one last futile attempt at grasping it.

I kick my legs wildly. “Get off me!” My voice is raw as I shout.

Then a hollowness spreads in my stomach at the feel of his cold hand climbing up my bare leg, under my dress.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I say from between clenched teeth.

Twisting, I try to put some distance between the sickening feeling of his hand and my body. But the closer he gets between my legs, the more his grip turns to iron. He is stronger than me. I need to find another way to fight him. If not with my body, then with my words, like Valentine taught me. I’ll need to use this fucker’s lust against him if I have any chance of escaping.

“Is this the best you can do?” My heart thuds at the back of my throat as I try not to show how weak I sound. “Don’t you want to look at me?”

Silence.

I shut my eyes, praying he falls for it.

Please, please, please.

“Don’t you want me to look at you?”

Acid burns up my throat at what I’m about to say. “If you take me from the back, I can picture whoever I like . . .”

A groan greets my ears, and then I’m being turned onto my back, no grace in the movement as I match his groan with one of my own. Pain radiates from the back of my head as it meets the icy tile.

At least the plan worked. Now I’m face-to-face with him.

And an old, polished fox mask.

He laughs, parting my legs with his lower body and pressing his erection between them, making me hiss at the sensation. My hands get pinned above my head as I feel a hopelessness like I’ve never felt before.

“You little sluts always squirm, don’t you? Always trying to free yourselves, but you fail to understand you’re just making us harder.” He leans in. “And harder.”

Then a stinging sensation spreads across my right cheek. His hand’s midair after having slapped me hard. My vision blurs, and a metallic taste swims in my mouth from biting my lip.

“Rule number two. The rabbits can run for however long they please, but once they get captured, they need to fully submit,” he repeats, almost scolding me. “Tell me you’ll be thinking about someone else again and I’ll make the whole Inferno Consortium fuck you into unconsciousness. You’ll wish it were just me.”

A heaviness tightens in my chest at identifying his voice.

My mouth dries at his words, because I know how much truth they hold. He isn’t just talking. He means the threat. He did the same with my mother, passed her around like a hand-me-down.

“You look just like her.” He skims his nose over the side of my face, sniffing in my perfume.

I think I’m dying.

Slowly. Painfully.

Lucian brushes his finger from a strand of hair, down my cheek, leaving a trail of burning skin in his wake. “Red like a child’s favorite crayon. Red like the flowers butterflies pick. Red like sacrifice and passion.” He grips my chin and tilts my head up, forcing me to stare into his eyes behind the mask. “Red like blood. Red like fire. Red like war. Red like mistakes.”

I flinch as his breath tickles my face. His eyes bore into mine, making my skin crawl with the intensity.

“Your mother was so beautiful. On a day just like this, I captured her for myself.” He hums to himself. “So docile and needy.” He laughs.

I stare at him with a straight face, but a tear rolls down from the corner of my eye, betraying me. Another one follows, hot against my pale skin.

“So full of life. A little bird just learning to fly after a life spent behind bars.” The bastard smiles.

He smiles.

“She was finally free, but she flew to me, and I had to cage her in. I couldn’t let her go. I couldn’t lose all the light she brought with her.”

So you sucked it all out of her.

“She was mine. My personal escape in the middle of the night. She was happy to be mine.” Then his tone shifts, and he slams me against the floor, hard enough that the hatred in his next words sinks in better. “But you started to intoxicate her, poisoning her against me,” he snarls, anger growing with each word he spits at me. “You took away my gift!”

He shakes me again, this time knocking my head hard on the tile, and I see stars. My lips part, but I don’t have the energy to moan in pain.

“You took her away from me.” His panting caresses my cheek. Growling, he whispers, “So I’ll use you in her place.”

Lucian leans down and bites the ribbon around my neck, sinking his teeth into my skin. Pain shoots through my body, and I scream, waking up from the daze he put me in with his words. It’s like everything washes over me and I finally feel.

Everything.

Swinging my legs up, I use my newfound determination and the years of training Valentine drilled into me to deliver a harsh kick to his hip, pushing him off me even if it means tearing my skin open.

Lucian stumbles backward, glancing down at me with my blood tainting his lips, and I use the opportunity to hook my hands around his face, shoving my thumbs into his eyes, allowing for his screams to tickle my soul. I dig my nails a little harder into his skin, deciding to match his blood with mine.

“I should rip your eyes out right now.” I push my thumb in, and he shouts in agony. “But I want you to see me when I finally take down everything you care about.”

He seizes my wrists, but the more he pulls, the more I fucking push.

“You pathetic, useless girl,” he gasps. “I don’t have anything I care about.”

“You’re wrong.”

In his show of dominance he’s revealed his Achilles’ heel.

Me.

“I’m all you have left of her.” I let out a giggle that turns into a hysterical laugh. “I’ll take her away from you again.”

My laughter dies as the unease that persists in me comes back and I remember he’s the reason my mom isn’t here with me now. My mouth turns down in anger, and I clench my jaw.

Nose wrinkling in disgust, I throw a punch to his neck, stealing the air away from him. He falls onto his back, choking from the pain as his hands try to get some air back into his lungs.

Standing on wobbly legs, I run for my life.

I run and run and run.

An ache spreads from my legs up to my torso as if I’ve been running for hours, but I haven’t moved much. The kitchen isn’t in my peripheral vision anymore, but Lucian could catch up to me at any moment.

I’m not safe. I don’t feel safe in my own skin.

My chest tightens, lips tingling before numbing completely.

I keep pushing forward. Just one more step, I repeat to myself.

One more ste⁠—

My breathing quickens, too fast for me to catch a breath. I’m choking on too much air.

I can’t breathe!

A stinging sensation spreads across my chest, down my arms, until all I want to do is peel off my skin. A vortex of searing numbness consumes me. I’m feeling so much of nothing that I’m left staggering on my feet. I collapse onto my side, pressing all of my weight into the wall as I struggle not to fall. But it’s no use. I may be standing, but my insides are turning in on themselves.

I clutch my hand to my chest, trying to calm my rapid heart and the searing panic attack, but my hand falls to the pin still there, and the corridor starts to swirl around me. I’m ripping it off before I can control myself. The metal sound it makes as it bounces on the floor rings in my ears.

But it’s not enough.

Broken sobs break out of my mouth as an unbearable tension grows in my head, and I fear I might implode. I shut my eyes, but the darkness awaiting behind them only feeds this pounding sense of loneliness.

I feel so utterly alone in all of this. She left me alone with the heavy burden of her vengeance.

Loathing spreads through my veins as my arms and my legs begin to tingle uncontrollably. I hate her for coming here. I hate her for loving Lucian, even if short-lived. And I hate her for leaving me.

I’m heaving by the time those thoughts take shape in my mind, sweat dripping down my temples to my neck, when the consuming sensation of guilt washes over me and I let out the most gut-wrenching scream.

I wish she never had me. I wish she let Lucian kill me like he wanted to. I wish she didn’t love me so profoundly.

Warmth touches my cheeks, delicately, and my eyes spring open, gaze colliding with worried eyes. Julian’s warm hands frame my face as he observes me. He isn’t wearing his mask, and I can see all the lines of concern etched into his expression.

Help me. Please help me.

My eyes plead with his, but rasping is the only sound that comes out of me as I dig my nails into his hands, clinging to him in the hope he won’t disappear.

“Look at me,” he urges. “What happened?” He sweeps his eyes over me as he searches for the answer.

I move my hand to my neck and tap there, under the wound Lucian gave me. My vision is blurring with tears, but I still catch the way his eyes darken the moment he sees.

“I-I can’t b-breathe.”

“Did Lucian do this to you?” he demands, the veins in his neck announcing the rage coursing through him.

More tears get soaked in his hands as I nod my head. I try to tell him everything, but my voice wavers between sobs and hiccups. Nothing coherent manages to come out.

His eyes flick back and forth between mine before a veil falls over his expression. He lifts me into his arms and leads me to his bedroom. The stroke of his fingers on my back pulls some of the weight off my chest, but the sense of hopelessness persists.

I don’t think it’ll ever leave.

We arrive at his bedroom, and he gently places me on his bed before locking his bedroom door. I don’t feel trapped in this room; I feel trapped inside my own skin.

Julian falls to his knees and moves between my legs, leveling his stare with mine while he cautiously covers my eyes with his hands.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Panic slowly rises as I’m left alone with my thoughts. “Julian?” I move my head back, but he doesn’t take his hands away.

“What do you see?”

I see Lucian’s mouth arching into a menacing laugh. I see my mother crying on the floor. I see her body hanging from the ceiling or trembling at his feet. I see her holding a little version of me in her arms. Then I see her regrets as they become mine.

“Aurelia.” Julian’s voice brings me back. “What do you see?”

I see black. I see nothing.

“N-nothing,” I voice.

“Good,” he murmurs, thumb stroking my cheeks. “Now, what do you hear?”

“Only you,” I whisper.

He removes his hands and I collide with celestial blue eyes. And a realization that I’ve lived a similar moment before.

“Whenever you need to escape this place, you cover your eyes, okay?”

“Julian . . .”

His brows twitch as he studies my expression, capturing the words I can’t find the strength to say out loud. “You forgot about that night, didn’t you?”

The memory of Emeric’s party, a few months before I broke things off with Adrian, comes crashing down on me. Eleanora invited me to it. Emeric hosted the party at his place to celebrate finally getting a promotion in his family’s wine business after years of convincing his father he was ready for a more influential position.

I’ve already had too much to drink when Eleanora has the brilliant idea of stealing a bottle of wine to spite Emeric for choosing a job that will see him traveling overseas more often. She coaxes me to share it with her, until my head’s swimming with the effects of the alcohol and my bladder’s fit to burst.

“I need to find a bathroom,” I tell her, my drunken words slurred, but even as I get up to leave I don’t think she hears me, too lost in her own alcohol-induced haze as she rants on about Emeric in between bursts of tears.

Yet she swears she’s not that into him.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” I hear myself say on some far-off level of consciousness as I walk out on her mid-rant. It’s probably for the best. She’ll only deny everything she’s saying when I bring it up again in the morning.

The Grimwards’ three-story mansion is like a maze, and I’m tripping over things and stumbling into walls, pretty sure I’m lost forever and will never find my way back to the party, when I hear glass breaking farther along the corridor.

I don’t know where I am. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else in this part of the house.

Following the sound, I find myself on the threshold of a guest bedroom in ruins.

And there in the center of the room . . .

Julian.

He’s brutally unplugging the bedside lamp, his breathing ragged, hair tousled, as he yanks and yanks at it. When the lamp finally gives up, he throws it against the wall and lets out a guttural scream.

He doesn’t notice me.

But I’m watching him.

He’s on a rampage, his emotions in tatters, losing all self-control as he unleashes his anger on the room. I’ve never seen him like this before. I can’t put a name to the feeling that washes over me as I watch him. I’m simply frozen in place, a captivated viewer.

Until he looks at me finally.

And for some reason, whether it’s because I’m drunk and not thinking straight or something else, I decide to pretend all those years he ignored me don’t exist. Pretend we’re still best friends and that I’m not dating his brother.

What I didn’t know back then was that Julian was having a panic attack, and I was going to help him get through it the same way he did with me tonight.

I also didn’t know I was going to straddle his hips and beg him to fuck me when he forced his lips onto mine.

Or that I was going to forget about it.

“Until now.”