Chapter 38

The weight of the photographs stays with me.

Long after Julian walked away, long after the fire burned down to embers, the images remain.

Pieces of a life I don’t remember.

Pieces of me.

And Julian tried to destroy them.

I sit on the windowsill of my room, my fingers curled tightly around the last unburned photo, staring down at the girl I used to be. The girl Julian held onto.

The girl Cassian destroyed.

The girl I don’t even recognize.

A knock at the door makes me stiffen.

I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.

The air shifts slightly, the presence on the other side carrying a quiet intensity—familiar, lingering.

I don’t invite him in.

Elias comes in anyway.

His footsteps are silent, careful. He moves like he’s used to walking through shadows, used to not being noticed.

But I notice him.

I always do.

I don’t speak as he crosses the room, stopping just beside me, his golden eyes flickering toward the photograph in my hands.

He exhales softly, shaking his head. “Julian’s still trying to rewrite history, huh?”

My fingers tighten around the photo. “He burned the rest.”

Elias scoffs, his mouth curling into something sharp, bitter. “Of course he did.”

I finally turn to him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Elias’s gaze flickers.

Something flashes behind his eyes—too quick to catch, too heavy to ignore.

“I could ask you the same thing, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

I exhale sharply. “Elias.”

He tilts his head, studying me. “You remember more now, don’t you?”

I nod slowly. “Yes.”

His lips part slightly, like he’s about to ask what I remember, but then he stops himself.

Instead, he looks out the window.

The sky is heavy with dark clouds, the wind carrying the scent of rain. The world outside is too quiet. Like something is waiting to break.

Like we are waiting to break.

Finally, Elias sighs.

“This place is a coffin, Ana.” His voice is quiet, careful.

I don’t say anything.

Because he’s not wrong.

Julian’s mansion—this place that I’ve been trapped in for so long—has never felt more suffocating. More dangerous.

The walls hold secrets.

The corridors hum with the weight of what’s been erased.

And outside, Cassian is waiting.

Waiting for me to be weak enough to take.

Elias turns back to me, his gaze steady.

And then—softly, carefully—he says it.

"We could leave together."

I freeze.

My breath catches, my pulse stuttering against my ribs.

Elias holds my gaze, steady, certain. “You don’t have to stay here, Ana.”

My chest tightens.

Because for a single, fleeting moment—I want to say yes.

I want to leave.

I want to escape this endless cycle of secrets and half-truths.

I want to forget Julian’s betrayal.

I want to forget Cassian’s shadow looming over me.

I want to run.

But I can’t.

I shake my head, swallowing hard. “It’s not that simple.”

Elias raises an eyebrow, tilting his head. “Isn’t it?”

I exhale. “Julian won’t let me go.”

Elias laughs, sharp and bitter. “Julian doesn’t own you.”

I flinch. Because I know that.

And yet—

Yet, I can still feel the weight of his voice in my bones.

"I will not let him take you."

I still feel the way Julian looked at me when he saw the letter from Cassian.

Like he would burn the entire world down before he let me be taken.

And part of me hates him for it.

Part of me wants to fight.

But part of me…

Part of me feels safe in that promise.

Even if I shouldn’t.

Even if it’s a lie.

Elias watches my expression carefully, his jaw tightening.

He steps closer.

Too close.

Close enough that I can feel the heat of his body, the energy that radiates off of him like fire.

“You don’t owe him anything, Ana.” His voice is lower now, rougher. Dangerous in a way that has nothing to do with threats.

And everything to do with temptation.

I inhale sharply. “That’s not what this is about.”

Elias searches my face. “Then tell me what it is about.”

I can’t.

Because I don’t know.

I don’t know what’s keeping me here.

Is it the truth?

Is it the need for answers?

Or is it something else entirely?

I shake my head. “I can’t leave. Not yet.”

Elias lets out a slow, measured breath.

Then—he smiles.

But it’s not a happy smile.

It’s something closer to regret.

Something closer to knowing.

His fingers brush against the edge of the windowsill, his gaze flickering back to the storm outside.

“You say that now,” he murmurs. “But soon, you won’t have a choice.”

A shiver crawls down my spine.

Something about the way he says it—**so certain, so final—**makes my pulse quicken.

Elias steps back, his golden eyes catching the dim candlelight.

“If you ever decide you’re ready to go,” he says softly, “you know where to find me.”

And then—he’s gone.

The door closes behind him, and I’m left standing in the heavy silence of my room, staring at the photograph in my hands.

My grip tightens.

Because the truth is—

I am running out of choices.