Page 63 of Goldflame

She isn’t here thankfully—wives and husbands don’t come to these events, preferring not to see how their spouses behave. But someone will have to tell her about Lucas. She’ll remember my last visit. She’ll think I did this.

Everything around me fades, all drowned by Lucy’s sobs still echoing in my head. I relive the way my own mother cut Lucy’s perfect skin. How she used my own pocketknife to try to slice out the truth.

And I did shit to stop it, useless and impotent against my mother’s commands.

The taste of whiskey is acidic on my tongue as it threatens to come back up. A slow breath steadies me enough to move, and I take a detour to my office. The lights flicker on instantly from the motion-sensor.

I grab a pen and slip of paper off my desk, writing instructions for Valentine with shaking hands.

Wire ten million to Lucy Carter.

Absolve her of all ties.

Don’t let anyone know she’s received the funds.

Death releases no one in this organization—someone would expect her to take over Lucas’s role. But I’m not letting that happen. Maybe Valentine can find some distant relative, a sibling or cousin, willing to step in. But not Lucy. I won’t let her get dragged deeper into this hell.

I fold the note, slap a wax seal over the crease and press down with force. Lucy never wanted to be part of this world anyway. She was just collateral damage and maybe, somehow, this act will ease my guilt and free me of my sins against her.

She’s one of the few who get their freedom, and she can go on to live a good life for the rest of us trapped here by chains.

I shove the envelope into a guard’s chest on the way out, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. “For Valentine,” I snap. “Make sure he gets it tonight.”

Back at the party, eyes follow me around. Whispers multiply like rats in the corners. Each one feels like a knife twisting deeper into my gut.

Someone clears their throat, an awkward cough that cuts through the tension. I catch the end of a hushed conversation—Lucas’s name mixed with mine—and shoot a glare toward the offenders. They flinch and look away.

Cowards, all of them.

My mother approaches. Her eyes are wide and innocent, but we both know better. I’m seeing her differently after that night with Lucy. She’s… more cut-throat than I realized.

“Julian.” Her voice is sharp and demanding as she touches my arm. “If you don’t do something immediately…”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with subtext, and I shake her hand off.

“Julian,” she says again. “This was out in the open.” She leans closer, making sure no one else can hear. “A member killed at your own gathering? If you don’t stand up as a leader right now, they’ll see you as weak.”

I blink at her, heat rising beneath my collar. I know. I’m not an idiot: take action or lose control.

I sigh, really wanting this fucking night to end. “What do you suggest?”

She hesitates for just a second before her mouth curves into a smile that’s too calm. “Make an example of her. Publicly. Throw an event and slit her throat in front of the entire Consortium.”

My stomach knots itself into barbed wire at hersuggestion. The thought of Aurelia dead, cut down by my own hand… I fucking can’t. As much as she’s shattered my life, a tiny part still cares.

I can’t do that to her, not without becoming exactly what I despise.

Yet the fact that Ican’tmakes me despise myself.

Mom’s eyes dig into mine with sharp insistence. “You’ve gained so much ground these past weeks; don’t throw it away.”

Unease crawls under my skin like acid as she holds my gaze without blinking.

“I’ll take care of her,” I finally say, which seems to satisfy her enough.

Iwilltake care of Aurelia, I just don’t know how yet.

Mom straightens. “Good. Now, Gregory has?—”

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