Chapter 37

Julian is slipping away.

I can feel it in the way he moves—slower, heavier, like something is weighing him down. Like the threads of whatever held him together are finally fraying.

It happens slowly at first.

His presence lingers in the background, but he stops reaching for me. Stops trying to explain. Stops fighting for us.

And for some reason—that scares me more than anything.

Because Julian has always been the one holding on.

The one who never let go.

And now?

Now, he’s pulling away.

I see it in the way he avoids my eyes.

In the way his voice tightens when he speaks to me.

In the way his fingers curl into fists when I mention Cassian’s letter.

He’s hiding something.

Something big.

And I’m going to find out what it is.

The First Clue

It happens late at night.

I can’t sleep.

Not after what I saw at the window. Not after knowing that Cassian’s people are already inside Julian’s walls.

So I do the only thing I know how to do.

I search for the truth.

I slip out of my room, careful to keep my steps light, silent. The mansion is vast, empty, the candlelight flickering along the long hallways, casting shadows that stretch too far.

And then—I hear it.

A faint sound.

A low crackling.

Smoke.

A scent drifting through the air.

I follow it.

Step by step.

The air grows warmer the closer I get.

And then—I see him.

Julian.

Standing in front of the fireplace in his study, his back to me.

The flames flicker wildly, casting a golden glow against the sharp lines of his shoulders. His hands are tense at his sides, fingers twitching.

And in the fire—

Photographs.

Burning.

The edges curl, turning black before crumbling into nothing.

I inhale sharply.

Not loud. Not obvious.

But Julian hears it.

He turns—too fast, too tense.

Our eyes meet.

And for the first time in days, I see something raw in his expression.

Not the careful restraint.

Not the quiet guilt.

Something else.

Something close to fear.

I take a slow step forward. “What are you doing?”

Julian doesn’t answer.

He just watches me.

Like he’s waiting.

Like he’s bracing for something.

I glance past him, my pulse pounding. The fire crackles, another photograph consumed by the flames.

“What are you burning?” I whisper.

His throat bobs. “Nothing important.”

Liar.

I take another step, my voice sharper now. “Julian.”

He flinches.

I move closer, close enough to see the remaining photographs in his hand. His fingers grip them tightly, like he’s deciding whether or not to let me see.

I reach for them.

Julian reacts instantly.

His grip tightens—too tight.

But he doesn’t pull away.

Not yet.

“Ana,” he murmurs, his voice lower now. “Let it go.”

I shake my head. “No.”

Julian exhales harshly.

The hesitation lasts for only a second.

And then—he lets me take them.

My fingers tremble as I flip the first one over.

The moment I see the image, my heart stops.

It’s me.

But not me now.

Me before.

Before I was turned. Before Cassian. Before everything.

I’m standing in a sunlit room, my eyes bright, my lips curled into a soft, easy smile—the kind I don’t even remember knowing how to make.

I look… happy.

Like someone who had no idea what was coming.

I flip to the next one.

Julian is in this one.

He’s standing behind me, his eyes on me instead of the camera. His expression is unreadable—careful, distant, but undeniably full of something real.

Something I don’t think I ever noticed before.

The way he was always watching me.

Like he knew—even then.

Like he knew what was coming.

The third photo makes my stomach twist violently.

It’s me again.

But different.

Not happy.

Not whole.

This time, I’m standing in the rain, my clothes soaked, my face pale. There’s a vacancy in my eyes, a hollow kind of sadness that makes my throat tighten.

Julian is next to me again, his hand gripping my arm—not forcefully, but firmly. Like he was holding me together.

Like he was keeping me from falling apart.

I swallow hard.

These photos—I don’t remember them.

Not a single one.

I lift my gaze to Julian, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”

He doesn’t ask what I mean.

He already knows.

He exhales, raking a hand through his hair.

“I should’ve burned them all before you could see.”

The words hit me like a shock of cold water.

I grip the photos tighter. “Why, Julian?”

His jaw clenches. “Because you don’t need them.”

I shake my head. “That’s not your decision to make.”

His breath catches.

For a long moment, we just stare at each other.

And then—something breaks.

His voice is hoarse, raw. “I’m trying to protect you, Ana.”

I inhale sharply. “From what?”

His gaze darkens.

And **that silence—that awful silence—**tells me everything I need to know.

There’s still more.

Still something he’s not telling me.

Something he’s trying to erase.

And I can’t let him.

I hold up the last photograph. The one where I look empty.

“Tell me what happened here.”

Julian doesn’t answer.

I press harder. “What was I running from?”

His jaw tightens. “You already know.”

A shiver runs down my spine.

Cassian.

The truth is right there, just out of reach.

I just have to take it.

And this time, Julian isn’t going to stop me.

Because no matter what he’s trying to burn, no matter what he’s trying to hide—

I’m going to find it.

No matter what it costs.