Goldsin (The Chrysophilist Trilogy Book 1)
Goldsin: Chapter 29

A scream pierces my sleep.

A scream so guttural, so loud, it sharpens the further it cuts through, shredding the foggy tendrils of my dream.

I bolt upright at the third shriek, my ears pounding in sync with my racing heart. Sweat clings to my body, foreshadowing this very moment. Like it knew long before now I would get woken up by cries for help.

But this isn’t one of those usual nights. My mom isn’t screaming because of my father. My mother is screaming for something else.

I can hear it in the rawness of each howl, more animal than human.

She isn’t screaming in pain, but for survival.

“Let him go!” Her words get swallowed by a scream—her scream—as desperation and anger meet.

I throw the covers off me, panic gripping my muscles as I stumble to my feet.

The house feels different. The air is denser. Night shadows stretch out from the corners as the walls hold in their breath.

This isn’t one of her usual screams. No—this is different.

This is the sound of someone dying.

The house passes me by in disorienting shapes as I run to her bedroom, legs pushing me forward with the urgency coursing through them.

“No!” Her voice cracks.

And something inside of me breaks.

A blind panic consumes me whole. Not even the cold marble floor manages to ground me. I just want to reach my mom.

Bursting through the double doors, I frantically scan for her and find her pinned against the wall. Someone taller than Lucian cages her in, blocking my view of her.

Where is Lucian? Did he give her to this man for the night?

No. At least not in his own bed. At four in the morning.

“Get the fuck away from her!” I roar. Everything inside of me gets drowned out by the rage that conquers my rationality. “Touch her and I’ll skin you alive!” My fists clench.

I’ll skin him alive either way.

At the sound of my voice, the man wearing the ski mask backs away from my mother before shoving past me to escape.

His abrupt action knocks me off-balance, and all I catch is a glimpse of his retreating figure.

“Guards! Stop that bastard!” I blare, voice echoing down the corridor, throughout the whole house.

A thump catches my attention, and I turn to see my mom crumpled on the floor, her right hand clutching the lower side of her stomach.

My throat squeezes shut at seeing her like this.

Kneeling beside her, I hold her chin up and look into her eyes. “Mom,” I whisper.

Even in the situation we’ve found ourselves in, I’m searching for her reassurance. For her to tell me everything will be fine.

She hisses, and my eyes fall down her body to the stain on her white nightgown.

Blood seeps from the stab wound on her abdomen.

My hands tremble as I put pressure on it. But the blood keeps flowing out, drenching my hands. The metallic scent overpowers her flowery perfume, and I’m scared this is all I’ll remember her by.

Nothing but her favorite white gown, ruined by her blood.

Nothing but her pink lips that always found the strength to stretch into a smile whenever she’d hold me, now the color of ash. Thin, crippled.

Or her blue eyes, the color of the morning sky, now the color of death. Of lost hope.

This can’t be the last time I see my mom. I don’t want this moment to taint all the memories I have of her.

I feel my spirit sink as I hold her life in my bloodied hands. I thought I was doing everything to protect her. I should have prevented this from happening. I should have done more. I didn’t save her—I killed her. This is all my fault.

She looks at me with blinding terror. Tears fill her eyes as she gasps for air between jagged sobs.

Her lips drag at the corners as she struggles to form words through the soaring panic. The adrenaline must already be in full effect, or she’d be screaming out at the sheer force I’m putting on her stomach.

“Shh, it’s okay.”

But it’s not. My hands are slick with her blood.

I can feel my own eyes pricking with unshed tears.

I can’t lose her. Not like this. Not now.

Reaching to the left, I blindly grab the phone on the nightstand, leaving pressure on the wound with my other hand.

“Valentine!” I choke out the moment he picks up. “It’s Julian. Someone broke into the house, tried to kill Mom. They’re still here—find them!”

“Understood.” His voice is calm. Receptive. Even if I just woke him up in the middle of the night with the worst news. “Is your mother all right?”

I’m about to answer when my mom manages to speak.

“Lucian . . . gone.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, the words scratching the back of her throat as she uses all her strength to vocalize them.

Lucian is gone.

I was right then. He left her with that guy. But why? Something isn’t adding up.

“Mom, what do you mean?”

“Julian?” Adrian’s voice echoes around the room as he bursts through the door. His eyes round when he catches us on the floor, but the color completely drains from his face when he looks at the bed.

I follow his gaze.

My heart lurches, turning rigid with realization.

“Valentine,” I say through the phone. “Lucian is dead.”

Adrian takes a step forward, a haunted look in his eyes as he stares into the blank eyes of our father.

“I’ll be there shortly,” Valentine finally says, his tone shifting from calm to one I’ve never heard coming from him. From the right hand of the Harrows.

The phone call ends. A beeping sound wraps itself around us as everything slows down, fading away, except for my mother’s heavy breathing. Her blood warms my hands while freezing my heart.

I see Adrian crawl on top of Lucian’s body to push and push with his hands on his chest, hysterically trying to bring him back to life.

I see my brother deliver orders, his face contorting with pure rage. I see his hair sticking out in every direction, blood smearing his cheeks, his neck, his hands, his clothes.

Everywhere.

There’s blood everywhere.

I see guards filtering in to later rush out in search of the killer.

I see everything.

But I don’t hear.

I hear nothing but the labored breathing of my mom as her life slips through my fingers.

“Who did this?”

Adrian’s question stirs something within me. His eyes dart around the room, searching for any clue.

“Who was it?” He turns to us, his gaze locked on the barely open eyes of our mother. “Mom, did you see who it was? Their face—anything?”

I know.

I know who did this.

She went behind my back.

She killed Victoria.

All the pieces fall into place. I now have a clear picture of what happened tonight. The reason why my mom is bleeding on the floor and Lucian is dead.

Something soft falls on my cheek. My mother’s hand calls for my attention. Her touch is weak, but the light behind her eyes is so fierce. So full of determination.

That’s why it stuns me to hear her say the next words.

“Julian,” she stutters, “I love you so much. You and Adrian need to take care of the business and the Inferno Consortium now that we won’t be here with you.”

I get a hold of myself, keeping my tears from spilling.

“Mom, don’t talk like that!” I shake my head, pinching my eyebrows. “You’re not going anywhere! Where’s the fucking ambulance?” I scream the question out, all my frustration bubbling to the surface.

A lump forms in my throat.

Her eyes flutter closed, and I shake her.

“Hold on,” I whisper, my words choking out. “Hold on, Mom. You have to hold on.” I brush a hair away from her forehead. “Lucian is gone. You can finally live your life, but you have to hold on.”

God, please.

“Julian . . .” she whispers. A small smile stretches her dry lips. “Having you brought me to life, and I’ve loved every second.”

A tear escapes and streams down my face.

Mimicking hers.

But her eyes close next, and mine remain wide-open as I watch her get picked up from my arms and carried away by paramedics.

I continue to watch.

Is this the last time I’ll get to see her? Will this become a haunting memory or a distant one?

My tears fall silently, mixing with her blood on my skin.

And in a beat she’s gone.

For how long?

“Julian.” Adrian turns me toward him. “Listen to me. I’m going with them to check on Mom. Can you stay here and take care of Dad?”

I feel utterly helpless.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He takes off behind them, and I’m left standing in my parents’ room with the one person who hates me the most, while the only one who ever loved me fights for her life.

Adrian’s figure disappears, and in its place appears Valentine.

As composed as always, he looks over my shoulder at the resting body of his boss.

Ex-boss.

I am his boss now.

“We’ll take care of him,” he says.

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

I push past him without another word.

“Julian!” he shouts after me.

Shouts.

The only time you shout at a member of the leading family of the Inferno Consortium is when you’re getting tortured by them.

I ignore the blatant disrespect and rush down the stairs, my mother’s blood drying on my skin, and in an instant I’m in front of her apartment. Barging in.

She’s sitting on the couch chewing on her lower lip, but she stands immediately at my appearance. The light speckles in her eyes are visible from this far away as her eyes widen in shock, taking in every brush of crimson on my clothes. On my skin.

“Julian—”

“You promised.”

She flinches, regret in her eyes.

“You promised me.” This time I growl. “And you still went and did it.” My mouth pulls down in disgust.

She moves around the coffee table, and I hold up a hand.

“Don’t come near me,” I spit.

The sight of her twists my stomach. My hand shivers slightly, and I clench it back down, not wanting her to notice.

Her eyebrows crease, mouth twisting, as she tries to hide the hurt my words caused her. But whatever pain she’s feeling right now can’t compare to the turmoil brewing inside of me at having watched my mother nearly die in my arms.

Because of her.

“Julian, I didn’t expect this to happen.” Her voice is small, tentative.

“Didn’t expect it?” I glare. “You knew exactly what you were doing! I don’t give a fuck that Lucian is dead, but your actions caused harm to my mother, and she could be dying because of you!”

She flinches from the anger slithering out of my pores. From the rise and fall of my chest as I fight for a breath.

Regret overtakes her face. Remorse burns in her eyes.

“You asked for the impossible. You know about my mom. I couldn’t let her live, Julian. You asked for too much.”

I know.

“You needed to wait . . .” My lower lip quivers with the intensity of my emotions. “I told you I wouldn’t stand in the way of you killing Victoria—just not the same fucking day she had a meeting with my father!”

“What?” she whispers, color draining from her pink cheeks as she shakes her head. “I had no idea.” Then, unexpectedly, she yells, “You could have told me!”

“Maybe you should’ve trusted me!” I shout back.

We stand there with silence hovering between us, our chests heaving as we stare into each other’s eyes.

There’s a tangible weight between us, suffocating us. A glint of sadness evident in her eyes.

But does she regret it? Would she have waited if I’d told her to?

“Julian,” she tries, taking a small step toward me.

I’d forgive you in a heartbeat, is what I want to tell her. If I had the strength to, I would.

“Let me at least help.” Tears brim in her eyes. “What can I do?” she asks softly.

But I don’t have the strength to forgive her. To let her back in.

Not when my mom’s life is hanging by a thread.

“Stay away from us.” The words are acidic in my mouth. “That’s all you can do.”

I don’t believe a single word.

“You don’t mean it,” she whispers, her head shaking with her typical stubbornness.

I don’t mean it.

“Right now my only family is fighting for her life at the hospital.” My voice pinches, straining, as my throat clogs. “She’s all I have.”

Tears shine in her eyes as she fights them back. Taking another step closer, she murmurs, “I know.” Her voice is heavy with emotion.

She repeats the word as she wraps her arms around me, her warmth erasing the anger boiling within.

My body trembles, and I break down, sobbing into her shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice breaks as she holds me close to her, my tears soaking her shirt.

She runs her fingers through my hair, caressing the pain away, but it only heightens it. A hole forms in the center of my chest, and the more I let my emotions lead me, the more I get swallowed by it. Losing myself in it.

The world outside ceases to exist as she holds my weight up.

Our heartbeats sync as I cling to her.

Then I feel her muscles loosen. Her sigh of relief breezes through my hair, and I pull back enough to whisper in her ear. Enough to let the venom set in.

“Pray she survives.”

Her body tenses.

I grip her arm harder, not caring if it bruises. “For your own sake.”

I turn around and leave her apartment.

The sun is slowly beginning to rise, devouring the night sky as I head to the hospital, swaying between cars with my bike.

Light may be stretching its way through the buildings, but it’s not enough to reach the darkness raging within me.

The muscles of my legs strain as I pace back and forth, my footsteps silent against the bland linoleum floor.

The sterile scent of the hospital burns my nose, the white furniture blinding me.

If I have to stay one more hour in this waiting room, I’ll go insane.

“Julian.”

Adrian’s voice cuts through the tension coiling tightly within me.

“She’s out of surgery. She’s resting now. The doctor said we can bring her back home tomorrow, but she’ll need bed rest for the next two weeks.”

His eyes are underlined with shadows, heavy from the past five hours. The concern and fear are gone, but their mark remains.

“None of this should have happened in the first place.” I clench my fists at the image of her bleeding on the floor, her gasps echoing through my mind. “If only I hadn’t let my guard down . . .”

“Hey,” he snaps. The weight of his hands on my shoulders follows next. “This isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

His words force me to look at him.

“Couldn’t I?” I whisper. I was angry before, but now I only feel guilt. It’s heavy as it presses down on me like concrete. “I should have seen it coming. Aurelia . . . she warned me. And I didn’t listen.”

The waiting room isn’t the issue—I could pace the length of it for days to come. It’s what’s inside of me that will crush me to death if I don’t share the weight with someone else.

“Wait . . . Aurelia knew about this?” Adrian’s fingers dig into me. “How? What did she say?”

I shake my head, unable to meet his interrogating gaze.

I can’t tell him.

“Julian, talk to me.” He shakes me. The action inspires flashbacks of me shaking Mom’s fragile body as I tried to keep her awake.

I feel the weight in my chest pressing down again. Like clay, it takes the shape of my insides as it resides there.

“What did Aurelia know?”

The memory of her standing before me, eyes laced with tears as she asked for my forgiveness, haunts me.

The weight amasses, becoming unbearable.

“Enough,” I hear myself murmur. “She knew enough.”

Taking several steps back, I try to put some distance between us. The burning sensation spreading over my skin is enough—I can’t have his presence suffocating me too.

“She killed Victoria.”

“Damn it, Julian,” Adrian hisses, running his hand through his already disheveled hair. “You knew she was going to kill her?” His eyes are bulging out. “I— What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell us? We’re family. We could have helped you stop her!”

Maybe I should have. That would have prevented Victoria’s family from sending someone to kill Lucian and attempt to kill Mom in retaliation.

Aurelia isn’t the only one who follows the “an eye for an eye” motto. Every member of the Inferno Consortium does. We’ve been bathing in it for decades, generations.

“Family.” The word tastes like ash in my mouth. “And look where that got us.”

Adrian sighs, eating up the space between us with one long step. “We’ll figure this out, Julian. But we need to stick together. We can’t let whatever reason she had for doing this tear us apart.”

I scoff, a headache forming from the force I put into clenching my jaw. “I know exactly why she did this.”

Vincent DeMarco humiliated her mother. Made her feel like less of a person and more of an object.

Marcus Whitman played his filthy psychological games with her mother before using her worn-out body all night.

Lady Marlowe scarred her mother’s body, bruising it or burning it depending on what she was feeling that night.

And my father? Lucian imprisoned her, exploiting her sexually and mentally. Lavishing her in fake love. He stole her life in the name of greed.

“Is there something else you’re not telling me?”

So much more.

I glance at the closed doors separating me from our mother. “Does it matter?” I look back at him, reading every micro-expression. “What matters is that our mother almost died because Aurelia was too selfish, too blinded by the desire for revenge.”

The slight twitch in his eyes tells me he knows there is so much more I’m not telling him. And the smoothness in his forehead tells me he will seek to find out, with or without my help.

“We will get through this. We always do.”

I shake his hand off my shoulder. “You don’t understand, Adrian. This isn’t like before. This . . .” I swallow to wet my dry throat. “This could break us.”

Break us. Tear apart what fragile strings remain between me and Aurelia.

“We won’t let it.” He places his hand back on my shoulder. He thinks I’m talking about our family. His grip is like steel on my skin. “We’ll find a way to make things right. I promise you that.”

Promise?

A numbness settles deep within me.

What good are promises when everything we thought we knew has been ripped away?