CHAPTER 24 : Blood for Blood

The warehouse basement erupted into chaos.

Julian didn't wait for an invitation. He raised the assault rifle and fired.

Rat-tat-tat.

The single lightbulb above us shattered, plunging the room into semi-darkness, illuminated only by the gray daylight streaming from the broken door at the top of the stairs.

Luca cursed, diving behind the wooden crates. He dragged me down with him, the chair scraping screeching against the concrete.

"Kill him!" Luca screamed into the gloom. "Kill him now!"

Two guards rushed the stairs. Julian dropped the rifle—it was empty—and moved. He was a blur of shadows. He caught the first guard’s wrist, twisted it with a sickening crack, and slammed the man’s head into the concrete wall. The guard crumpled.

The second guard lunged with a knife. Julian didn't back down. He stepped into the blade, blocking it with his forearm, and drove a fist into the man's throat. The guard went down gagging.

It took five seconds. Two men were down.

Julian stood in the center of the room, his chest heaving. He scanned the darkness, his eyes glowing with a terrifying, feral rage.

"Come out, Luca," Julian growled. "Stop hiding behind a woman."

"She’s not a woman!" Luca shouted from behind the crates. "She’s a deed! She’s my property!"

Luca popped up, dragging the chair—and me—up with him. He pressed the serrated knife against my throat again. The blade bit into my skin, drawing a thin line of warm blood.

"Back off, Thorne!" Luca yelled, his voice cracking with panic. "One step and I open her up!"

Julian froze. He was ten feet away. He saw the blood trickling down my neck. His face went pale, the rage momentarily replaced by pure fear.

"Let her go," Julian said, his voice low and shaking. "This is between us. Let her walk, and I will let you live."

"Liar!" Luca spat. "You burned this place down! You stole my legacy! You don't know mercy!"

"I know what I lost!" Julian roared back, stepping forward. "I lost the only woman I ever respected because of your father! I am not losing her daughter too!"

The only woman I ever respected. My mother.

"She’s mine!" Luca screamed.

He didn't slit my throat. Instead, he raised the knife high, aiming to plunge it into my chest.

"NO!"

Julian moved.

He didn't run. He launched himself. He covered the ten feet in a heartbeat.

He didn't go for Luca. He went for me.

Julian threw his body over mine, shielding me with his own chest just as Luca brought the knife down.

Thud.

The sound was wet and sickening.

Julian gasped, his body seizing up against mine.

The knife had buried itself deep into Julian’s lower back, just above his hip.

"Julian!" I screamed.

But Julian didn't fall. He gritted his teeth, his gray eyes flashing with cold, deadly resolve. He reached back, grabbed Luca by the throat with one hand, and squeezed.

Luca’s eyes bulged. He tried to pull the knife out, but Julian ignored the pain.

"I told you," Julian hissed, his voice a gravelly rumble of death. "No one touches her."

With a roar of effort, Julian ripped Luca away from me and slammed him onto the concrete floor.

He didn't stop there. Julian straddled him, raining down punches. It wasn't elegant. It was a massacre.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Blood sprayed across the floor. Luca stopped fighting. He stopped moving.

Julian hit him one last time, a final, bone-shattering blow.

Silence fell over the basement.

Julian sat back on his heels, breathing hard. His white shirt was soaked in red—Luca’s blood, and his own.

He slowly turned to look at me.

I was still tied to the chair, sobbing, paralyzed by the violence I had just witnessed.

Julian tried to stand up, but his leg gave out. He stumbled, clutching his side where the knife handle was still protruding.

"Vivian," he wheezed.

He crawled toward me. He didn't look at his wound. He pulled a pocket knife from his trousers and cut the zip ties on my ankles, then my wrists.

The moment my hands were free, I reached for him.

"You're hurt," I cried, my hands hovering over the knife in his back. "Oh my god, Julian, he stabbed you."

"I'm fine," he lied, his face ashen. He grabbed my face with his bloodstained hands, smearing red on my cheeks. "Did he hurt you? Did he make you sign?"

"No," I sobbed. "Why did you do that? You took the knife for me."

Julian rested his forehead against mine. His skin was clammy.

"Because," he whispered, his voice fading, "you aren't an asset, Vivian. You never were."

His eyes rolled back in his head.

"Julian!"

He slumped forward, collapsing into my arms. His dead weight pinned me to the chair.

"Julian! Wake up!" I shook him, but he didn't move. The pool of blood beneath him was spreading fast, staining the concrete floor.

I looked at the stairs. I heard sirens in the distance.

The King of the Underworld had fallen. And I was the only one left to save him.