My apartment felt like a tomb that smelled like stale ramen and regret. I was sprawled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that had seen better decades, staring at a crack in the ceiling that looked suspiciously like a middle finger.
I wasn't "sick" in the way Martha thought. I was just... done. My brain felt like it had been through a woodchipper, and my heart was doing this weird, heavy thudding every time I remembered Silas's face when I'd called him a creep.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The knock on my door was too steady. Too rhythmic. It wasn't the landlord looking for rent, and it sure as hell wasn't the pizza guy.
I rolled off the couch, my legs feeling like lead. I didn't even check the peephole. I just yanked the door open, ready to scream at whoever was bothering me.
"Surprise," Julian Vane whispered.
He was standing in the dim, flickering light of the hallway, looking like he'd been photoshopped into a slum. His suit was perfect, his hair was perfect, but his eyes... they looked like someone had lit a fire in a graveyard.
"Go the fuck away, Julian," I snapped, trying to slam the door.
He caught it with a hand that felt like a vice. He didn't push; he just held it there, his strength effortless and terrifying. "That's no way to treat a guest, Alina. Especially one who's come to save you from your own bad taste."
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. My apartment was tiny, and with him in it, it felt like a cage. He looked around at my peeling wallpaper and the pile of dirty laundry in the corner, a smirk of pure, clinical disgust on his face.
"So this is it," he purred. "The fortress of the 'nightmare.' It's a bit... damp, isn't it? I expected more fire. More 'burn the town down' energy."
"You're really obsessed, aren't you?" I said, leaning against the sink and crossing my arms. "You're like a stalker with a high-end credit score. Does it hurt your feelings that I'd rather sleep in this dump than spend another second looking at your plastic face?"
Julian's jaw tightened, a flash of that manic thrill from the car flickering in his eyes. "You think you're so witty, Alina. You think your little crude barbs make you untouchable. But we both know why you're hiding in here. You're terrified because Silas finally touched you, and you realized you actually liked the feeling of being owned."
"I don't belong to anyone," I hissed. "Especially not a guy who uses words like 'luminous' while he's trying to figure out how to sell my aunt's diner for a parking lot. You're a loser, Julian. A rich, shiny loser who's so bored with his own life he has to try and ruin mine."
Julian stepped closer, his breathing becoming ragged. "You're so vicious when you're cornered. It's intoxicating. I can see why Silas fell for it. He's a simple man; he sees a flame and wants to warm his hands. But I? I want to see what happens when the flame goes out."
"Then you're gonna be waiting a long time, you prick," I spat. "Now get out before I start screaming and the neighbors, who actually know how to fight, come up here and turn your face into a jigsaw puzzle."
Julian didn't move. He looked at me, and I saw the sanity finally leave his eyes. He wasn't the businessman anymore. He was a man who had been pushed over the edge by a girl who didn't give a damn about his money.
"He told me," Julian whispered, his voice shaking. "He told me he slept with you. He's so proud of his little conquest."
"He didn't—"
"I don't care what he said!" Julian roared, suddenly grabbing my shoulders and slamming me back against the counter. He was vibrating, his face inches from mine. "I won't let him have you. I won't let him be the one you remember."
The sound of heavy, frantic boots thundered in the hallway.
"ALINA!" Silas's voice roared from behind the door.
Julian heard it. He saw the doorknob rattle. And in a moment of pure, calculated madness, he did the one thing he knew would destroy Silas.
He lunged forward, his mouth crashing onto mine. It wasn't a kiss. It was an assault. He tasted like cold bourbon and desperation, his teeth clashing against mine as he forced his tongue into my mouth. I fought him, my hands clawing at his face, but he held me with a strength born of total insanity.
The door flew off its hinges with a sickening crack.
Silas stood in the wreckage of the doorway, his chest heaving, his face a mask of pure, murderous horror. He didn't see me fighting. He didn't see the way I was trying to push Julian away. All he saw was his partner, his friend, claiming the girl he'd tried to protect.
Julian pulled back, a string of saliva connecting us, a wild, triumphant look in his eyes. He didn't look at me. He looked straight at Silas.
"She's full of surprises, Silas," Julian panted, his voice low and manic. "Just like you said."
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, my stomach turning as I looked at Silas. He looked like he'd been shot. The betrayal in his eyes was so deep, so absolute, that it made my heart shatter into a thousand jagged pieces.
"Silas," I breathed, reaching out. "It's not—"
But Silas wasn't looking at me anymore. He was looking at Julian. And for the first time, the "gentleman" was gone. In his place was a man who looked completely shattered and disappointed.