72

72


I was already standing in front of Gosto’s chamber before I realized where my feet had carried me. The sky outside was still dark, but sleep had long abandoned me. My heart thudded against my ribs, and I could barely keep up with my breath. I lifted my hand, about to knock, when the door suddenly swung open and Gosto pulled me into his arms without a word.

Within seconds, I was enveloped in the warmth of his body.

He wore a loose, worn shirt and simple sweatpants, but that didn’t diminish his raw magnetism. One of his hands cradled the back of my head while the other anchored at my lower back, holding me tight.

“Your heartbeat was so loud I could hear it from here,” he said softly. “I thought something had happened.”

I looped my arms around his neck, needing the closeness more than I could admit. “I had a vision,” I whispered, still breathless. “Someone was making a pact with a demon. His name was Beliale.”

Gosto stepped back just enough to take me in properly. I was barefoot, wearing nothing but a thin nightgown that clung to my trembling frame. Shivers racked my body not from the cold, but from the remnants of that dreadful vision, still echoing in my mind.

“You need to lie down,” he murmured.

The next moment, he swept me off my feet and gently laid me in his bed, tucking the blankets around me before slipping in beside me. We faced each other in the stillness. One of his arms slid under my head, becoming my pillow, while the other curled protectively around my waist.

Nothing about it felt wrong.

In fact, it was exactly what I needed.

His fingers brushed softly through my hair, the sensation lulling some of the chaos inside me. I let out a soft hum of contentment, my lips tilting into a faint smile.

“This is dangerous,” I murmured. “Addictive.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Then let me do it every day, if that’s what it takes.”

But the smile slipped from my face, replaced by the familiar ache of confusion.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I murmured.

“I’m sorry,” he said at once. “I keep crossing lines. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”

“That’s not it,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “It’s just… I don’t understand you. One minute, I think you care. The next, I’m not so sure. You keep pushing me away.”

Regret flickered across his expression. “I never said I didn’t care,” he said gently. “I do. I always have. But I had a plan, and you weren’t supposed to make it this complicated.”

“What plan?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do,” I insisted, reaching up to touch his face. “I want the truth even if it hurts.”

He studied me for a long moment, weighing the risk, and finally sighed.

“I once knew someone like you someone with your bloodline,” he said. “My father brought her to the Underworld when her powers started to awaken. He intended to protect her, to hide her in the mountains under royal guard.”

I held my breath.

“I was young then. Arrogant. And I knew nothing about Nephilims. I didn’t understand why my father would swear himself to her protection. Then I found out she was pregnant, and I thought…”

“You thought the baby was your father’s,” I whispered, bile rising in my throat.

He nodded solemnly. “But it wasn’t. My parents loved each other deeply. Still, I hated that woman resented her. Then one night, my father told Aronne and me everything. About the Nephilims. About how powerful they were. How rare. And how fragile… because of their innocence.”

His voice darkened.

“Your great-grandmother was lured out of hiding by Gualtiero. He used her sense of justice against her and murdered her.”

I covered my mouth, breath stuttering as pain clutched my chest. Gosto drew me closer again, letting me press my face into his shirt. His scent grounded me, softening the ache.

“I should have told you all this before,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head.

“What happened to the baby?” I asked quietly.

“My father returned her to the Mortal Realm. Left her with a family he trusted. She grew up not knowing who or what she was.”

“She?” I repeated.

Gosto nodded. “Your bloodline only births daughters.”

“Why?”

He gave a low, amused laugh. “Maybe the gods knew only women could bear such strength.”

Then his smile faded, and guilt crept into his eyes.

“And knowing it would be a girl is what made me come up with the plan.”

My chest tightened. I knew what was coming, but I asked anyway.

“You planned to make me fall in love with you… and then kill me, didn’t you?”

He inhaled sharply. “Yes. That was the plan. Your death would’ve given me the power I needed to destroy Gualtiero. I thought... it was the only way.”

The world seemed to tilt.

“When did that plan change?” I whispered.

“The moment I saw you,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “From the very beginning, I knew... you’d be my undoing.”

Tears welled in my eyes. “Then why are you still pushing me away?”

He caught my hand, lifting it to his lips. “Because I can’t let that future happen. Not yet.”

Frustration burned in my throat. “What does that even mean?”

He shook his head. “That’s the one thing I can’t explain not now.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and the tears finally fell.

“Fine,” I whispered. “I won’t ask.”

He tilted my chin toward him and kissed me soft, steady, grounding. When he pulled back, he said, “Tell me about the vision.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and took several deep breaths before I could begin. I told him everything the scorched land, the cave, the crystals, the mangled man, the pact with the demon.

With each word, pain twisted Gosto’s features.

He was thinking of Aronne.

So was I.

I had never met his brother. But the broken creature in my vision... it could have been him. I didn’t know why I’d seen it, or how. But deep in my bones, I knew the dream wasn’t random.

Something someone wanted me to witness it.

“Who is Beliale?” I finally asked.

Gosto’s jaw flexed.

“Beliale was once a Prince of Hell. The Grand General of the Sons of Darkness. He led them into the final war against the Underworld. When they lost, his own soldiers turned on him. They tore him apart.”

A chill passed through me.

“But before he died, he vowed to rise again. To destroy every creature who had failed him... and all their descendants.”

I swallowed hard. “So if he came back…?”

“He wouldn’t just kill. He’d end everything,” Gosto said. “He’d start a new apocalypse.”

I let out a nervous, hollow laugh. “So we’re talking about total annihilation?”

“Yes,” Gosto said. “If he’s reborn in a body strong enough to contain him, there will be no one left to stop him. Not even me.”

I pressed against his chest, clinging to him like he was the only anchor in a world about to collapse. “Let’s just hope that never happens. That Beliale stays buried for good.”

He kissed my temple and wrapped his arms tighter around me.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Let’s hope their plan never succeeds.”