Chapter 152

Chapter 152
Julian‘s POV

My vision was starting to blur at the edges. Blood loss making me dizzy, heartbeat loud in my ears, but I forced myself to stay conscious. Looked at Elle—both hands free, tape still over her mouth, eyes locked on mine with something that was breaking me worse than any physical pain.

I shifted my weight, preparing for the third cut. My thigh. This one would be bad.

"Third cut," I muttered.

The blade sank into muscle and I almost went down. White spots exploded across my vision, knee buckling, and I caught myself with my free hand to keep from collapsing. The pain was different—deeper, radiating up through my hip and down to my ankle. Blood soaked through my jeans immediately, pooling on the floor.

I heard Elle scream through the tape, high and broken, and when my vision cleared she'd gotten one hand on the edge of the tape, pulling it away just enough to gasp for air.

Jack cut the rope on Elle's left ankle, but his movements were slower. I saw it—the way his hand trembled, the way his eyes kept darting between the blood and my face. He was starting to doubt. Starting to wonder if I'd actually go through with the fourth.

Good. Let him doubt.

"Last one," Jack said, but his voice had lost conviction. He pointed to his own chest with a shaking finger. "Stab here."

I looked up at Jack through the haze. Then at Elle.

She'd torn the tape completely off. Silent tears streaming down her face, lips trembling—but behind her back, I saw her right foot working at the last rope, the one Jack hadn't noticed was already loosening.

I gripped the knife tighter, raising it slowly, angling it toward my chest—

"NO!"

The scream cut through the cabin like a gunshot.

Elle exploded from the chair with violence I'd never seen in her. The last rope snapped and she launched herself at Jack, using the chair as a battering ram.

The chair hit Jack's bad knee with a crunch that made my stomach turn. He screamed, staggered back, and the knife slipped from his hand, skittering across the floor.

"Julian, stop!" Elle's voice was raw as she spun toward me. "Don't you dare! Don't you fucking dare!"

I froze, knife still raised toward my chest, vision swimming.

Elle dove for Jack's fallen knife. Her hands were shaking from adrenaline but she grabbed it and spun around, one knife pointed at Jack, her eyes finding mine with desperate intensity.

"Drop it," she said, voice shaking but firm. "Julian, drop the knife right now."

"Elle—" I started, but blood loss was making it hard to form words.

"I said drop it!" She took a step toward me, and I could see the terror in her eyes. "I won't let you. Do you hear me? I won't let you hurt yourself anymore."

My fingers loosened. The knife fell, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Elle's shoulders sagged, but she kept the other knife pointed steady at Jack, who was clutching his knee and groaning.

"You," she said, voice turning to ice. "Don't move."

I tried to push myself up, tried to get to Elle, but my arms wouldn't hold. Blood was still pouring from the wounds, and the world was fading in and out.

"Elle..." I managed, voice barely there.

She glanced at me and I saw the exact moment she registered how much blood I'd lost—the way her face went white, the way her hands started shaking harder.

"Stay with me," she said, voice breaking. "Julian, please, just stay conscious. Help is coming. It has to be."

She stood between me and Jack, knife steady despite the trembling, despite the tears, and I realized she was protecting me now—protecting me the way I'd always tried to protect her.

The irony would have made me laugh if I had the strength.

Instead I just watched her through the haze, watched her stand tall and fierce and terrified, and thought: That's my girl.

Then the darkness started closing in.

---

Eleanor's POV

I stood over Jack, the knife heavy in my shaking hands, my whole body trembling.

Behind me, I could hear Julian's breathing—shallow, wet, each exhale weaker than the last. The sound was worse than any nightmare, worse than drowning, worse than anything.

But I couldn't look at him. Not yet. Not while Jack was still moving.

Jack struggled to sit up, clutching his knee, and when he saw the knife in my hand, contempt crossed his face despite the pain.

"Little girl, don't try to scare me with that," he said, breathing hard, voice mocking. "A spoiled princess like you probably hasn't even killed a chicken. You think you can kill a person?"

I didn't speak. Just stared at him, knife steady despite the trembling, pointed at his chest.

Jack managed to prop himself against the wall, wincing. "You think you dare? Do you know what killing feels like? The sound of a knife going into flesh, blood spurting out, the way a body goes limp—"

"Shut up." My voice was cold, colder than I'd ever heard it.

I took a step forward, knife point pressing against Jack's throat hard enough to dimple the skin.

Jack's smile froze. For the first time, he saw real killing intent in my eyes, and I watched the mockery drain from his face.

"You're right," I said slowly, voice calm in a way that scared even me. "I've never killed anyone. But that doesn't mean I won't."

I leaned down, knife creating a small indent in Jack's throat, and behind me I could hear Julian's breathing getting shallower, could hear the wet sound of blood pooling.

He's dying, something whispered in my head. He's dying because of this man.

"You know what?" I continued, voice steady despite the rage burning through me. "You and your brother's suffering—it's entirely your own fault."

Jack's face changed, color draining. "You—what—"

"Stop pretending," I said coldly. "You think I don't know the truth? You and your brother were drug addicts who loved to gamble. When you lost everything, you embezzled company funds to cover your debts."

Jack's face went paler.

"After my father found out, he didn't immediately fire you," I continued, sarcasm dripping from every word. "He decided to give you another chance. He even helped pay off your gambling debts. Five hundred thousand dollars."

I paused, watching the truth sink in.

"But you didn't learn. Less than a month later, you were gambling again, using drugs again. My father was completely disappointed. That's when he finally fired you."