Page 23 of Goldflame

These fucking Harrows—they want to break me.They want to see how far they can push before I crack. That’s what they do best.

Now that it’s just me and the guards, my survival instinct kicks in. I flail my arms and let out a strangled scream. I struggle against their tight grip, even knee one in the balls. He grunts but doesn’t double over or release me.

As the other one mutters, “Bitch,” and raises his gun to whack me, I know that putting up a fight was stupid. But I had to try.

They haven’t broken me yet.

The butt of the gun hits me hard and I fall into blackness.

All I can focus on is the pounding in my skull. It feels like it’s being split open, right at the back. When I crack an eye, I’m greeted by a gray silk pillow in front of my face. I’m on a bed, but it’s not my bed, and it makes me wonder,How many times did my mother wake up like this?

In a bed that wasn’t hers, waiting with dread for the moment when Lucian or some other man would open the door and violate her body. Just an object for their entertainment and satisfaction.

She never knew exactly what to expect. Would it be a day where Lucian would tie her up, beat her bloody, and then rape her?

Or would a group of men enter, passing her around, each taking a turn?

Did she scream? Or did she discover screaming was pointless, letting them do as they pleased while she remained silent and numb?

My mother lived this every day—trapped in a room at a man’s mercy. But it’s not supposed to be like this for me. I used to think I was too smart, too careful to end up like her. I thought I was setting the traps, but here I am, caught in one I never saw coming.

When I suck in air as a sob is about to tear from my throat, Adrian’s scent fills my lungs—leather with a hint of vanilla. An expensive scent, subtle but unmistakable. Just like him.

That’s right. Julian told the guards to lock me in Adrian’s room. I know this bed, and these pillows. This intoxicating smell.

Burying my face in everything Adrian, I finally let out the suffocating emotions.

Why did you have to die?

Everything would be different if I’d only realized the truth sooner. Maybe I could’ve saved Adrian. As much as I felt unsure of what he thought of me, I know in my heart he’d never imprison me like this.Never.

When my sobs finally subside, my head is pounding harder but I don’t even care. I finally sit up and look around.

Adrian’s room. I spent countless nights here during our decade together, yet it feels like entering a shrine now. It’s always been methodically organized. Everything in its proper place, nothing without purpose. The king-sized four-poster bed is centered against the farwall, the sheets that are always spotless only wrinkled because of me.

Bookshelves line one wall, each volume arranged by subject and then alphabetically by author. Business, economics, military strategy, political theory—the collected knowledge of a man who spent his life preparing to lead.

His desk remains immaculate—a leather-bound planner closed and centered precisely, a pen placed parallel to its edge. Even now, with him gone, the room radiates control. Order amidst chaos.

It’s the complete opposite of my space. I was always more mess than he could handle. We used to joke about it. Adrian always said my room gave him anxiety. I always told him his room felt like a museum—beautiful, but untouchable. The colors are muted here, soft blues and grays. When we were dating, the monotony and blandness of this room bled into me until they turned me empty. I was a different person then, and I wanted nothing more than to escape.

Now, this same room I once hated feels like home. I guess that’s good since I’m stuck here for now.

I move to the edge of the bed, swinging my legs over and holding my head. I don’t see any water pitcher anywhere, and my throat is so dry. I also need some aspirin.

I walk to the adjoining bathroom and open the medicine cabinet. Empty. I laugh, despite myself. I know for a fact that Adrian kept some pills in here, especially aspirin, so I’m wondering if Julian told the guards to remove it all.

God, I’d really like to punch him.

I turn on the faucet, cupping my hands to gather some water to drink. Once my throat is less dry, I return to the bed and fall on the edge.

I glance at the door. I know it’s locked, so I won’t waste my time trying the handle. I’m just still trying to process everything. Is this who Julian truly is—cruel enough to torment me with Adrian’s ghost? Were his feelings for me ever real, or was I just another game? A way to compete with his brother, to take what wasn’t his?

I grip the edge of the mattress, trying to anchor myself as panic threatens to overwhelm me. Think, Aurelia.Think. There has to be a way out. But my head is pounding so much it’s hard to piece my thoughts together.

Right now, I can’t see a way out. This penthouse is several stories up, so the window and balcony are useless, unless I decide to jump and end my misery. I’m sure Julian posted guards outside the door, so even if I could pick the lock I’d get captured again instantly.

Trapped.

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