The reception was a blur of forced smiles and clinking glass until the two people I dreaded most moved in.
I was reaching for another glass of scotch when I felt a heavy, familiar hand on my elbow.
I didn't have to turn around to know the weight of it. Silas. At the same time, I saw Martha, her face set in a mask of protective fury, step directly into Julian's path, her finger pointing toward the dark corner of the garden.
Julian looked at me, a brief flash of hesitation in his eyes, but I gave him a small, sharp nod. He followed Martha into the shadows, his head bowed, the shark finally answering to a higher power.
"Alina, we need to talk," Silas said, his voice a low, urgent rumble. He pulled me toward the edge of the woods, far enough away that the quartet was just a faint, mocking hum.
"Talk?" I laughed, shaking my arm free.
"You're a married man now, Silas. You should be dancing with your pregnant wife, not dragging your ex into the bushes."
"Don't do that," Silas snapped, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "Don't act like this is just some game. Do you have any idea who that man is? Do you remember what he did to you? The drugging, the penthouse…he's a sociopath, Alina. He's using you to get back at me."
"Is that what you think?" I leaned back against a cedar tree, crossing my arms. "You think I'm just a trophy he's holding over your head? You really haven't changed at all. You still think I'm a child who needs to be told which stove is hot."
"He broke you!" Silas stepped closer, his shadow looming over me. "He took advantage of you when you were at your lowest. I was trying to give you a real life, a safe life—"
"You were trying to give me a cage!" I shot back, my voice rising. "A safe, boring cage where I could be the 'good' version of myself while you went off and played hero. Julian doesn't want me safe, Silas. He wants me sharp. He wants me vicious. He wants the parts of me that you were too afraid to touch."
Silas looked like I'd slapped him. "He's a monster, Alina."
"Maybe," I whispered. "But he's my monster. And he didn't run when things got messy. He didn't find a 'distraction' the second I walked out the door."
Meanwhile, ten yards away, Martha had Julian pinned against a stone wall.
"I know what you did," Martha hissed, her voice trembling with rage. "I know about the wine. I know about the penthouse. You raped her, Julian Vane. You used your money and your chemicals to take a girl who had nothing. And now you're parading her around like a new car?"
Julian didn't look away. He didn't use his boardroom voice or his shark-like charm. He stood there, his hands open at his sides, taking every word like a physical blow.
"I know what I am, Martha," Julian said, his voice quiet and devastatingly honest. "I have spent every night since that penthouse wishing I could go back and be the man she deserved. I can't fix what I broke. I know that."
"Then why are you here?" Martha demanded. "Why are you dragging her back into your world?"
"Because she's the only thing that makes me human," Julian breathed. "I don't parade her. I follow her. I would walk into a fire if she asked me to, and I wouldn't even ask why. I don't deserve her. I will never deserve her. But I will spend every second of the rest of my life trying to be the man she decides I am."
Martha searched his face, looking for the lie, the sociopathic glint. But all she saw was a man who was utterly, terrifyingly consumed by the woman standing across the yard.
"If you hurt her again," Martha whispered, "I don't care how many billions you have. I will find a way to end you."
"I expect nothing less," Julian replied.
I walked back toward the tent, leaving Silas standing in the dark with his "peace" and his regrets. I found Julian waiting for me at the edge of the light. He looked at me, an unspoken question in his eyes.
"Ready to go?" I asked, reaching for his hand.
Julian squeezed my fingers, his grip sure and steady. "I've been ready since we landed."
We walked toward the car, leaving the ridge behind us for the last time. Martha watched us go from the porch, her expression unreadable, while Silas stood alone under the oak tree, watching the red taillights of the Bentley disappear into the trees.
The mountain was a memory. The shark was a reality. And as we headed toward the airport, I realized that for the first time in my life, I wasn't running from a nightmare. I was taking it home with me.