Crimson Letter

Chapter 3: The Crimson Letter

The next morning, Julian made it his mission to be as annoying as possible.

At 7 AM he blasted loud, discordant jazz through the penthouse speakers. At 8:30 he ordered a ridiculous breakfast — three kinds of caviar, waffles, and one unpeeled grapefruit — just to keep the hotel staff running back and forth.

Kael didn’t react to any of it.

He sat at the glass table in a fresh suit, drinking black coffee, scrolling through the hotel’s security feed on a tablet. When Julian walked through the living room in nothing but a thin green robe that barely closed at the front, clearly trying to get a reaction, Kael just flipped to the next camera angle. But his eyes lingered half a second longer than they should have on the open collar and the smooth line of Julian’s chest before he forced them back to the screen.

“You’re unbelievably boring.” Julian dropped onto the sofa and crossed his legs, letting the robe slip a little higher on his thigh. “Are you a robot? If I cut you, do you bleed, or do wires fall out?”

“I bleed fine.” Kael didn’t look up. “The people who find that out the hard way usually don’t stick around to talk about it.”

Julian rolled his eyes. But something in Kael’s flat, casual tone sent a small shiver down his back anyway. He hated that it worked.

Before he could think of a comeback, the doors opened. Marcus hurried in, followed by a bellhop pushing a cart loaded with flowers and gift boxes.

“Morning, Jules. Morning, Terminator.” Marcus wiped his forehead. “Front desk cleared all the sponsor gifts from last night. Watches, cologne, a few fan letters management approved.”

Julian’s eyes lit up. He loved presents. He reached for a black box on top of the pile — and Kael’s hand shot out and closed around his wrist.

“Hey!”

“Standard procedure.” Kael’s grip was firm, warm, and steady. He held on a moment longer than necessary before letting go, then stepped between Julian and the cart and pulled on a pair of black gloves. They snapped tight with a sharp sound. “Everything gets checked by me first.”

“Marcus just said the hotel already checked it.”

“The hotel checks for bombs. Not razor blades or anything worse. Sit down.”

Julian crossed his arms and sat, sulking. He watched Kael work through the pile — running a scanner over each box, checking every envelope seam — and found himself, despite everything, a little fascinated by the quiet precision of those hands.

At the bottom, under a bunch of white lilies, sat a plain black envelope. No return address. Just Julian’s name in slanted, careful handwriting.

Kael picked it up. It was heavier than it should’ve been.

“Open it,” Julian said. “Probably just some backstage pass request.”

Kael didn’t answer. He drew a knife from his belt, slit the top clean, and tipped the contents onto the coffee table.

Two things fell out.

A photograph — a little washed out, taken with a flash. It showed Julian last night, stepping out of the SUV in the hotel’s underground garage, half-unbuttoned shirt, exhausted face.

Whoever took it had been standing less than twenty feet away. Behind the pillars. Inside the perimeter Kael was supposed to control.

The second thing was a letter. The ink wasn’t black. It was dark, rust-colored.

Dried blood-red.

Kael felt his pulse spike. Every instinct he had switched on at once.

“What is it?” Julian’s voice had lost its edge. He leaned in and saw the photo.

His face went white. “That’s from last night. How did they get down there? It’s a private garage.”

Kael picked the letter up by the corner and read it, jaw tightening with every line.

> I was so close I could smell your sweat, Julian. Your new watchdog doesn’t know how to protect you. He can’t see me. I’m going to carve my name into that pretty face of yours so no one else can ever look at it. See you tonight.

“Marcus.” Kael’s voice cracked like a whip. “Out.”

“What? What does it say—”

“OUT!” The shout hit like a slap. Marcus and the bellhop flinched and bolted for the door. “Lock down the floor. Nobody comes up. Go.”

The doors slammed. The room went quiet except for the tinny jazz still playing from the speakers.

Julian sat frozen on the couch, swallowed up by his robe, staring at the red ink. His hands were shaking.

“He was right there.” His voice cracked. “He was right there, Kael.”

It was the first time he’d used Kael’s first name.

Kael looked at him — really looked. The fear on Julian’s face was nothing like the tantrums from that morning. This was real. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling. The thin green robe had slipped open at the chest, and he looked younger, more fragile than Kael had seen him yet.

Kael crossed the room and crouched in front of him, bringing himself down to eye level. He put a hand on each of Julian’s knees, grounding him. The contact was solid, warm. Julian’s skin felt smooth under the thin fabric of the robe.

“Julian. Look at me.”

Julian’s breath caught. He forced his eyes up to meet Kael’s. Up close, Kael’s gaze was steady and dark, the kind of look that made it hard to look away.

“He was twenty feet from you and he didn’t touch you.” Kael’s voice stayed steady, low. “You know why? Because I was there. He’s a coward with a camera. I’m the wall between you and him.”

Julian’s eyes filled, one tear slipping loose before he could stop it. He looked down at Kael’s hands on his knees — solid, warm, holding him together — and felt the panic in his chest ease, just slightly. The weight of those hands stayed with him longer than it should have.

“Can he get up here?” he whispered.

“No.” Kael said it like a fact, not a guess. He stood, letting his hands drop, and Julian felt the loss of the contact immediately, like someone had taken away a shield. Kael pulled out an encrypted phone. “But we’re not staying to find out. The perimeter’s compromised. Go pack one bag. Just what you need.”

Julian blinked up at him. “Pack? Where are we going?”

Kael looked down at the letter one more time, something cold and certain settling into his eyes.

“Somewhere he can’t follow.” He pocketed the phone. “We’re going off the grid.”