Julian
I AM DEVASTATED. THERE is no other word for the emotion coursing through me.
I knew there was a possibility that I would never get to fuck Atlas again—he could be so finicky, and nothing was ever set in stone. But I guess I never considered that there would be a chance that I wouldn’t have him at all. That I would be forced away from Chastain Castle.
Well, that’s untrue. I knew the moment I touched him that our involvement could end this way. But not because I was protecting him; not because I care that fucking much.
I am being punished for cherishing him.
I’m being tossed aside because I have feelings for him that suffocate and scar me.
I should be there. I should have Atlas tucked under my arm twenty-four-seven, his entire being constantly within my line of sight. No one else is going to do it, clearly. They let him rot in that tower with that bastard touching him endlessly.
I will never be able to stomach it, to forgive his family for that, no matter what their reasoning may be.
Every time I close my eyes, I see it: I see the terror and disgust on Atlas’s face as he took in the incubus’s appearance for the first time.
There is no way he will enjoy it now. That semi-peaceful limbo he has existed in, where he could stomach this curse due to the pleasure he received, has been shattered and stubbed out.
And now he has no one to stand between him and that demon; he is to suffer all alone at the top of that godforsaken tower.
I can only pray that it continues to treat him as it did before and not take out its anger toward me on Atlas.
“Julian, are you listening?”
I lift my head, finding my father standing in the doorway of the living room. We’ve been staying in this two-bedroom house by the water in Port Orford since this morning, when he dragged me from the estate.
It’s nice; don’t get me wrong. We each have our own bathroom, and the water is beautiful from here. The fact that Abraham is allowing us to stay here until we land on our feet and has given us three months’ severance pay is incredibly generous.
But it doesn’t take away from the fact that he’s ripped away what rightly belongs to me. That he’s left his son to suffer.
“Yeah, I’m listening,” I mutter, turning to stare out the window and out into the horizon.
My father begins to approach where I sit on the couch. “I asked you if those scratches from before—the ones on your cheeks—were from that demon, too?”
“Yeah.” My response is short and monotone, but I don’t feel like talking.
In fact, I wish he’d leave me the hell alone.
I know he did what he felt was right to protect me, but that doesn’t stop me from resenting him just a little. I wish he had left me there, even if he felt the need to leave.
Dad sighs. “Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you ask for help?” He sounds desperate, as if he would give anything to understand me in this moment.
At first, I say nothing. I don’t believe he deserves a response.
But as I lift my head and take in the pained, scared expression he’s wearing, I crack.
“It wasn’t safe for you to know,” I tell him. “And it would risk our income.”
“I don’t give a shit about our income!” Dad yells. “Not where you’re concerned. You’re my one child, Julian. The only one I’ll ever have. If I had lost you, if you had been taken from me, I—”
He stops abruptly, turning his face from me. I can see his chest rising and falling rapidly, and his fists clenching at his sides.
“I’m fine, Dad,” I offer. “I’m here, and I’m fine.”
Dad doesn’t respond, and before I can say anything more, a car out front honks twice.
I’m on my feet and barreling through the front door within moments.
Oscar is standing by the driver’s side door of his car, and the trunk is propped open. I’ve been waiting for him; I knew he would be delivering our things sometime soon.
“Hey,” I call, rushing down the walkway.
Oscar gives a nod, observing me with a blank expression.
I continue. “How are things? How is Atlas?”
I expect him to correct me, to make another snappy comment about my informality and using his correct title, but instead, Oscar heads toward the trunk and clears his throat.
“The Young Master is well. You have no reason to worry, Julian. Just go about your life and heal.”
“But what is he doing?” I push, taking the bags as he hands them to me.
We entered Chastain Castle with four suitcases and left with six.
“He has been hiding in his room,” Oscar says softly, and I can see something sad and distant in his dark eyes.
“Could I just—”
“No,” he interrupts. “I have been instructed not to allow you to contact the Young Master or relay any messages.”
A groan of frustration leaves me before I can stop it, and I grip my hair, tugging lightly.
“Bullshit,” I mutter.
“Julian,” Oscar says, and I lift my gaze to meet his. Surprisingly, he’s looking at me with a mixture of pity and what borders on respect. “I’ll protect him. I promise you.”
With that, he shuts the trunk and gets back in his car before pulling away from the curb.
I watch his taillights until they disappear in the afternoon sun. Turning back toward the house, I find my father watching me from the front door.
With a frown, he turns and disappears inside.
I had to get out of the house.
I know it might be wrong to ditch my dad, or to let him sit in his own anger and misery, but I can’t stand the silence. The reminder of what he’s done.
Of what I’ve lost.
So instead, I walk a mile into town and find that same coffee shop I went to when I first decided to explore.
It’s still chilly outside; with it only being the beginning of the year, the weather has yet to warm, and Port Orford never truly loses its gloomy vibe.
As I slip into the heated air of the coffee shop, Ground Central, I rub my palms together, doing my best not to shiver. The barista working is different than last time, though I doubt she’d remember me if she saw me again.
“Can I help you?” the man behind the counter asks, and I do my best to smile.
“A hot Americano, please.”
“Sure thing. Tap here, and your order will be out soon.” He flips the white, portable kiosk around, and I select my tip amount and pay.
Once again, I’ve ordered a drink I do not like. Not that I’m here to enjoy the coffee; I just need a distraction.
And luckily, as I make my way to the other end of the counter to wait, a distraction calls out to me.
“Julian! Hey!”
My eye darts around until I find the source of the voice, spotting Cassie and Cameron sitting at a four-person table in the back.
“Your drink,” the barista says, setting the mug on the counter.
“Thanks.”
Grabbing the drink, I make my way to where my ‘friends’ sit.
“Hey, guys,” I greet, sitting across from Cassie.
“Jesus. What happened to you?” she asks, her fingertips touching her own face where I know the gauze sits on my own.
“Oh,” I start, nervously looking between the two of them. I haven’t considered what I’d say to people. “Uh, I ran into a wild dog. It bit me.”
I can’t tell if they believe me, but Cassie grimaces, shaking her head. “That’s horrible. Are you recovering well?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I take a sip of my bitter coffee. “How are you guys?”
“Good! Just working and hanging out. Kimberly just got a new job, so we were thinking of throwing a party,” Cassie rambles.
My uncovered eye drifts to Cameron, who’s staring at his own drink absentmindedly.
“You alright?” I ask him, and as he lifts his head, I watch in fascination as his expression shifts from a distant sadness to contentment and ease within the span of a breath.
“Yeah, man. I’m great,” he tells me.
“Oh. Okay.”
An uncomfortable silence unfurls around us, and as I’m trying to find an excuse to leave so I can wallow alone, Cassie clears her throat.
“Julian, how are things at Chastain Castle? Kimberly said that Susie told her it was a blast.” She’s stirring her coffee, not meeting my gaze as she asks, and I can feel my eyes start to sting.
“Um, I don’t… I don’t work there anymore.”
“What?” she gasps.
“What happened?” Cameron questions at the same time.
“Nothing important,” I rush out. “Just… it didn’t work out.”
“You look really sad about it,” he observes, and when our eyes connect, that contentment he was forcing is tinged with the sadness I saw before.
“I am,” I answer honestly. “I wasn’t able to say goodbye properly.”
Cameron swallows roughly, his brow furrowing as he turns away to stare out the window behind me.
“Yeah,” he says. “I know the feeling.”
What is that supposed to mean?
“If you’re that sad, why don’t you say goodbye?” Cassie asks.
“It’s not that simple. I probably… they won’t let me back inside.” It makes me sound suspicious; it’s an incriminating phrase, but it’s true.
Cassie just shrugs. “So sneak in. The person you want to say goodbye to—would they be happy to see you?”
I think of Atlas, of his sweet face and his big eyes full of tears. I know he’s trying to protect me, that he’s following orders. But would he be happy to see me, or angry that I allowed myself inside?
“He might be,” I mumble.
“Then do it. In fact, if you do, we want to go!”
“Cassie,” Cameron warns, his face stern as he stares down at his coffee.
“What? I’m just saying. We’ve always wanted to see Chastain Castle, and it might be easier with two extra sets of hands.” Cassie wiggles her brows at me, smiling brightly.
“I don’t know…” I look between the two of them, considering the idea.
Breaking into Chastain Castle could very well end in a lawsuit, and Atlas could end up upset with me. And bringing Cassie and Cameron? Would that be the brightest move?
But at the same time… is it technically considered breaking and entering if I still have the key?
The piece of metal that allows entry through the delivery room is burning a hole through my pocket. I’ve been carrying it as a token, something to comfort myself with, but now… now it just might be my literal key to seeing Atlas again. To making sure he’s truly safe and saying goodbye.