CHAPTER 24 #2
“What about the tactical plan?” Marcus redirects. “Assuming she stays—assuming we’re all still moving forward tomorrow—what’s the positioning?”
We spend the next hour working through scenarios. Elena and Sofia contribute via comms while maintaining their watch over Poppy at the pool. We discuss sightlines and response times, contingency plans and extraction routes.
“The rehearsal dinner is tonight,” Marcus notes. “Smaller venue. Easier to control.”
“Will Damien attend?” Elena asks.
“Unknown. But we should assume he might.”
I break in. “Then we stay alert. Tonight is reconnaissance. Tomorrow is the main event. No one engages unless absolutely necessary.”
Nods around the room.
“Understood,” Sofia and Elena respond.
The channel closes. Nathaniel excuses himself to check on his equipment. Marcus packs up his displays.
“She’s leaving the pool,” Marcus says, checking his tablet one last time. “Elena and Sofia are escorting her back.”
“Thank you. For all of this.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” He pauses at the door. “Thank me when this is over and she’s still alive.”
He leaves. I follow shortly after, making my way back to our suite.
I stand by the window, surrounded by the silence of waiting, and watch for the woman I love to return.
So I can tell her why loving me might kill her.
Poppy arrives twenty minutes later, sun-kissed and slightly tipsy, trailing the scent of coconut sunscreen and champagne.
“I survived,” she announces, dropping her beach bag by the door. “The pool party, the bridesmaids, the vampire confrontation. All in one afternoon. I deserve a medal.”
“You deserve more than a medal.”
She crosses to me. Slides her arms around my waist. Presses her cheek against my chest—against the slow pulse where a human heart would race.
“I’m okay,” she says. “Really. A little shaky underneath, but okay.”
“You were extraordinary.”
“I was terrified.” She pulls back to look at me. “But I didn’t let him see it. That counts for something, right?”
“That counts for everything.”
She studies my face. I watch her expression shift as she reads something there—some shadow I couldn’t quite hide.
“What happened while I was gone?” she asks. “You have that look.”
“What look?”
“The one that says you’ve been planning something and you’re not sure how to tell me about it.”
She’s very perceptive. Too perceptive.
“We made plans for tomorrow,” I say carefully. “Marcus coordinated with Elena and Sofia via comms while they watched over you. Positioning for the reception. Contingencies.”
“And?”
“And there’s something else. Something I need to tell you.”
She goes still, then smiles. “You got someone pregnant, didn’t you?”
I chuckle. “No... At least, not that I’m aware of.”
We both know she’s taking things seriously, but she’s trying to let me know that she’s ready for whatever I’m about to throw at her.
“Well, then I’m sure it’s something we can get past.”
“But kids would have been the deal breaker?”
“Possibly... I guess we’ll never know. Now tell me whatever is bothering that old man brain of yours.”
“Hey!”
“Am I wrong?”
“Technically, no.”
“Deal breaker number two is out of the way.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m always right.”
I can’t help but smile.
“Got it.”
“Good,” she says as she leads me to the sofa.
We sit facing each other. I try to find the words.
“Spit it out,” She takes my hands—her warmth comforts me. “I understand you have all the time in the world, but we have a rehearsal to get to.”
“Okay. Today, when you faced Damien, you made a choice. You chose to stay. Chose me, knowing what I am.” I meet her eyes. “But you made that choice without knowing everything.”
“What don’t I know?”
“The full scope of what loving me has cost others.”
She waits. Patient. Trusting.
I take a breath I don’t need.
“Margaret,” I begin. “She was the first woman I loved after my turning. Vienna. 1878. I told her the truth—what I was, what I needed to survive—and I watched her break.”
“Break how?”
“Her family committed her to an asylum. She spent her final years terrified of shadows, convinced monsters lurked in every corner.” My voice roughens. “I believed my confession killed her. Believed that knowing what I was shattered her mind beyond repair.”
“Believed?”
“Damien told me the truth today.” I close my eyes. “The asylum fire that killed Margaret—it wasn’t an accident. Damien set it. He tracked her down and burned her alive. All because I chose to save her instead of Katya.”
Poppy’s hands tighten on mine.
“I believed I’d killed her by telling her the truth—which technically I did.
She wouldn’t have been in there if it wasn’t for me being the monster I am.
I spent decades convinced that loving me had killed her.
But it wasn’t her being locked away. It was Damien.
He waited. He planned. And then he took her away. ”
“Julian—”
“There’s more.” I force myself to continue. “Corinne. Prague. 1931. She saw me feeding one night. Walked into the river the next morning.”
“Oh, Julian, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“I found her body downstream. I believed she couldn’t live with the knowledge of what I was. That seeing the monster had been too much. That I’d killed her simply by existing.”
“But it was Damien.”
“He found her first. Whispered in her ear. Told her everything—what I was, what I’d done, what happened to Margaret. By the time she walked into the river, she wasn’t just running from a monster she’d witnessed. She was running from a story Damien had crafted specifically to destroy her.”
Tears stream down Poppy’s face. She doesn’t wipe them away.
“He drove her to suicide,” she whispers.
“Yes.”
“And you blamed yourself all these years.”
“Yes.”
I take another unnecessary breath.
“And then there was Anya. Prague again. 1974. She knew from the beginning what I was. Chose me anyway. I thought—” My voice breaks. “I thought maybe it could be different. That if someone loved me knowing the truth, the pattern might break.”
“What happened?”
“I came home one evening and found her body arranged on my bed. A note pinned to her dress.” The words taste like ash. “‘Attachment is a liability. I’m helping you remember.’”
Poppy makes a sound—grief and horror and rage all tangled together.
“That’s the first time I learned of his involvement. The full century of revenge I never knew about. Margaret. Corinne. All the years of believing I was cursed, when really I was being hunted.” I meet her eyes. “Three women, Poppy. Three women who loved me. All of them dead because of that love.”
“Because of Damien,” she corrects fiercely. “Not because of you. Because of him.”
“The distinction doesn’t matter to them. They’re still gone.”
“The distinction matters to me.” She grips my hands harder. “You didn’t kill them, Julian. He did. You loved them, and he destroyed them. That’s not the same thing.”
“But the pattern—”
“Damien’s choice. His obsession. His cruelty.” Her voice shakes with intensity. “You didn’t make him into this. The hunters killed Katya. The grief twisted him. But every death after that—every woman, every decade of stalking and murder—that was his choice. Not yours.”
“I created him. I turned him. If I hadn’t—”
“If you hadn’t, he would have died. Would that have been better? A good man dying young instead of a monster living forever?” She shakes her head. “You gave him a gift. He turned it into a weapon. That’s on him.”
I stare at her. At the fire in her eyes, the certainty in her voice.
“You’re not afraid,” I say.
“I’m terrified. But not of you.” She caresses my face. “I’m terrified of losing you. I’m terrified of what tomorrow might bring. But I’m not afraid of loving you, Julian. Not even knowing all of this.”
“You should be.”
“Probably. But I’m not.” She holds my gaze. “I told Damien I was choosing love over fear. I meant it. I still mean it.”
“Even knowing what happened to the others?”
“Even knowing all of that.” She slowly strokes my cheek. “I’m not Margaret. I’m not Corinne. I’m not Anya. I know what’s hunting me. I know who’s standing beside me. And I’m choosing to stay anyway.”
“Poppy—”
“You’ve spent all these years believing you were cursed. Believing that loving you was a death sentence.” Her voice softens. “But you weren’t cursed, Julian. You were being hunted by someone who couldn’t let go of his grief. That’s different. And tomorrow, we’re going to end it.”
“We might not win.”
“Then we’ll lose together.” She leans forward and presses her forehead to mine. “But at least we’ll have faced it together. That’s more than the others had. That’s more than he’ll expect.”
I pull her close. Hold her like she’s the only real thing in a world full of shadows. Her heartbeat thuds against my chest—steady, strong, alive.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you, too.” She pulls back slightly, wiping her eyes. “Now. I need to call Sage to help her chill out. And we have the rehearsal dinner tonight, which means I need to look like I haven’t been crying over century-old trauma.”
“You look beautiful.”
“I look like a disaster.” But she’s smiling through the tears. “Give me an hour. Shower, makeup, emotional recovery. Then we go pretend everything’s normal for my family.”
“An hour.”
“Maybe ninety minutes. I have a lot of feelings to process.”
She stands. Pauses. Looks back at me.
“Julian?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For trusting me with all of it.” She holds my gaze. “I know that wasn’t easy.”
“You deserved to know.”
“I did. And now I do. And I’m still here.” She smiles—soft and certain and impossibly brave. “I’m still choosing you—even though there’s something pervy about a 257-year-old man going out with a 28-year-old.”
“At least you’re not in high school, and I don’t sparkle in the daylight.”
“You’ve seen Twilight!?!”
“Just out of curiosity. I had to go. My brothers keep comparing me to Edward.”
“I could see that... You can be pretty broody at times.”
“Really?”
“Don’t worry, you brood in a really cute way,” she says as she walks away. Then stops in the bedroom doorway and turns around. “I don’t know if this is a good thing or not, but you seeing Twilight is more shocking than everything else you’ve told me.”
She disappears into the bedroom. A moment later, I hear the shower start. Then her voice, muffled through the door, having what sounds like an animated conversation with Sage.
I stand in the suite and listen to her live.
Tomorrow, we face Damien. Tomorrow, everything changes.
But tonight, she knows everything. Every dark corner of my past, every death I’ve carried, every reason she should run.
And she’s still here.
She’s still choosing me.