Page 58 of Violence and Vice
But I cannot starve. I heard whispers today about an underground fighting ring—a place where rich men bet on bloodshed. They pit men against each other for sport. What they don’t know is that I amno man. I may not look it, but I am stronger. I am faster. And no human can stand against me.
They gave me the name of my opponent: Sebastian Vincent. American, I think. They say he’s brutal, undefeated. That he breaks jaws and ribs without blinking. But I will snap his spine like twine. I will take his blood if I must.
When I win, I’ll have enough to survive one more month. One more month to complete what I began.
The Blood Father waits."
“Holy fuck.”
My eyes rise from the page to meet Juliet’s. She’s pale as a ghost. Her chest rises and falls in short, fast bursts. “Sebastian,” she whispers.
“Juliet?” I question, my brows furrowing.
She’s gone pale. Her mouth opens, then shuts again. Her eyes are fixed on the journal in my lap like it just whispered something only she could hear.
“Juliet?” I ask again gently, my voice tight with concern.
Her hands tremble as she reaches up and presses her fingers against her mouth. Her chest rises sharply. “Sebastian,” she says, barely above a whisper.
Roman straightens beside her, every muscle in his body going taut.
“You knew him?” Ares asks carefully.
Juliet closes her eyes. Shakes her head, but not in denial—more like she’s trying to dislodge something heavy and sharpinside her skull. “I didn’t just know him. He was… he was my fiancé.”
The words hit me like a punch. The psychopath. She mentioned him. “What?”
“I loved him.” Her voice cracks. “Before Roman. Before everything. Sebastian and I were engaged.” She exhales shakily, eyes glassing over.
My heart twists. I haven’t known her that long, but I’ve never heard her voice like this—so raw, so scraped down to the bones.
Juliet continues, her breath picking up. “He had a temper. He could be… controlling. But I didn’t see it at first. I thought he was like me, that he understood what it meant to live a hard life.” She blinks rapidly and shakes her head. She takes in a shaky breath.
Roman doesn’t bristle. He doesn’t look jealous or angry. He simply keeps a steadying hand on her arm, a look of complex understanding in his eyes.
“Sebastian had a rough start at life, and then horrible circumstances after he Resurrected,” Juliet explains, even with moisture pooling in her eyes. “He hated himself. I think he was punishing himself. He didn’t really care if he died. He told me about the fights in New York. He did it for several years. It was guaranteed money because no one else knew what he truly was.
“Shit,” I whisper. “Thaddeus thought he was fighting a human.”
Juliet lets out a sound between a laugh and a sob. “Sebastian wouldn’t have held back. Not even for a second.”
Ares leans forward, elbows on his knees, his brow drawn tight. “That means Thaddeus was killed in that fight. Which explains why the journal ends there.”
Juliet’s whole body is trembling now. Roman pulls her against him, wrapping her in his arms. She buries her face intohis chest, and for a long moment, the only sound is her quiet, broken crying.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I didn’t know.”
Juliet shakes her head without looking up. “He’s dead. Long gone. But this just… it’s like the past is hunting me again.”
Roman kisses the top of her head. “You’ve already survived the worst of it, amor. This is just an echo.”
Juliet curses and presses her forehead into Roman’s chest.
This feels too intimate. I feel like I shouldn’t be here. There’s obviously so much painful history here. I can feel the agony radiating off Juliet right now. Juliet did love Sebastian. I can feel it without even trying. But her pain, her anguish—Sebastian also hurt Juliet in the deepest way possible.
What happened to Sebastian? What did he do to her? Juliet said she and Roman had been together for ten years. I can see the love between them in such an obvious way. But this reaction? Juliet obviously wasn’t expecting the past to rear its ugly head on something so seemingly unrelated.
Damn. Poor Juliet.
