CHAPTER 19 : The Silent Ride

The exit from the Plaza was a gauntlet of blinding lights and screaming voices.

Julian didn't put me down. He carried me through the service corridors, past terrified kitchen staff, and out into the loading bay where his armored convoy was waiting.

The press had already surrounded the back entrance.

"Mr. Thorne! Was it a hit?" "Is your wife injured?" "Who opened fire?"

Julian ignored them all. His security team formed a human wedge, shoving cameras out of the way. He practically threw me into the back of the SUV and climbed in after me, slamming the door so hard the heavy vehicle shook.

"Go," he barked at the driver. "Do not stop for red lights."

The partition between us and the front seat slid up with a mechanical hiss, sealing us in soundproof silence.

The silence was worse than the screaming.

Julian sat on the far side of the leather bench seat. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw locked tight enough to grind his teeth to dust. His hands rested on his knees, still shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

I looked down at myself. My beautiful red dress was ruined—torn at the hem from crawling on the floor, stained with spilled champagne and glass dust. The diamond choker felt tighter than ever, a golden noose around my neck.

I reached out slowly and touched his arm. His muscle was rock hard beneath his tuxedo jacket.

He flinched violently, pulling his arm away as if I had burned him.

"Don't," he rasped, not looking at me.

"Julian," I whispered, my voice still trembling. "Talk to me. You’re scaring me."

He finally turned his head. His eyes were bleak, hollowed out by rage and something that looked terrified.

"I scared you?" he laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Good. You should be scared. You almost died tonight because I was arrogant enough to think I could control the situation."

"You saved me," I argued. "We caught him. We won."

"We didn't win anything," he snapped. "Luca got away. And now he knows you are willing to die for me. Which makes you an even bigger target."

He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect style.

"I should have killed him," he muttered to himself. "I had the shot. I should have ended it."

I shivered. The man who held me tenderly after my nightmare was gone. The Killer was back.

We didn't speak for the rest of the ride. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words and the echo of gunshots.

When we arrived at the Thorne Tower, we went straight up to the penthouse. The moment the elevator doors closed, I couldn't hold it in anymore.

"What did he mean?" I asked, standing in the middle of the foyer while Julian shrugged off his jacket.

Julian paused. He didn't turn around. "What did who mean?"

"Luca," I said, stepping closer to his back. "Before he ran. He said, 'Ask him about the warehouse fire in '05.'"

Julian went very still. He tossed his jacket onto the console table. He walked past me into the living room, heading straight for the bar.

"He was trying to get in your head, Vivian. It worked."

"Don't lie to me, Julian," I demanded, following him. "I saw your face when he said it. You flinched."

Julian poured a glass of scotch. He didn't offer me one. He took a long drink, his back still to me.

"You told me you were chasing my mother to save her," I said to his broad back. "You told me you held her while she died. Was that a lie too?"

He slammed the glass down on the marble counter. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the silent apartment.

He spun around. His face was a mask of fury.

"I have never lied to you about your mother," he snarled. "What happened on that highway is exactly what I told you."

"Then what is the warehouse fire?" I pushed, stepping closer until I was toe-to-toe with him. I wasn't afraid of his anger anymore. I was desperate for the truth. "What happened in 2005 that started this whole war?"

Julian stared down at me. His chest was heaving. I could see the war raging behind his eyes—the desire to protect me versus the need to keep his secrets buried.

"It doesn't concern you," he said finally, his voice ice cold.

"It concerns me if people are trying to kill me over it!" I yelled.

"Enough," Julian said. The word was final. A door slamming shut.

He walked around me, heading toward the hallway.

"Where are you going?" I asked, my voice cracking.

He stopped at the archway. He looked back at me, his gray eyes dull.

"I have cleanup to do. Security protocols to review." He looked away. "You should go to bed. Mrs. Davis has laid out fresh clothes in the master suite."

"You're locking me out," I whispered. "Again."

"I am keeping you alive," he corrected.

He walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the hallway, leaving me alone in the vast, empty living room with a ruined dress and a new mystery that felt even more dangerous than the last.