The cold rage in my chest turned to ice.
"Did he try again? Dante?"
"No. The engagement went on hold while I finished school. My father thought distance would help me 'accept reality.' Dante sent letters sometimes. Called them love letters. They were threats disguised as romance. ‘You can’t fight this forever,’ things like that." Julian met my eyes. "The wedding was scheduled for next month. That's why I ran. I couldn't wait any longer."
I understood why Stefan had fought so hard for Julian to stay. Why Matteo had agreed despite the risk.
Julian Bianchi wasn't a complication or a threat.
He was a survivor.
Just like Stefan. Just like me. Just like everyone who'd ever clawed their way out of situations that should've broken them.
"Your father won't get you back," I said. The words came out harder than I'd intended. More certain. "You're safe here. For as long as you need to be."
Julian looked at me like he didn't quite believe it.
"Why would you do that? You don't know me. You don't owe me anything."
"Because I know what it's like to fight back against someone who hurt you. To be punished for it by people who should've protected you. To spend years planning an escape because staying meant destruction." I held his gaze. "You deserve better than what your family gave you."
Something shifted in Julian's expression. Softened. Like I'd said exactly what he needed to hear.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
I stood before I could say anything else. Before I could make this more personal than it already was.
"Get some sleep. Tomorrow we start figuring out how to keep you safe long-term."
I left. Locked the door. Went back to my office and stared at the monitors.
Julian sat on the bed for a long time. Then he picked up the book and started reading again.
But this time, when I watched him, I wasn't cataloging threats.
I was cataloging the way his hair fell across his forehead when he bent over the pages. The way his lips moved slightly as he read. The careful grace in his movements that spoke of someone who'd learned to make himself small.
This was a mistake. A massive, dangerous mistake.
Julian Bianchi was a complication we didn't need. A risk that could blow up in our faces. A problem that would require careful management.
But I couldn't stop watching.
Couldn't stop wanting to know more about him.
Couldn't stop feeling that pull of recognition when I looked at him and saw my own past reflected back.
This was going to be a problem.
But maybe not the kind I'd anticipated.
CHAPTER 3: JULIAN
I'D BEEN ATInferno for five days when Elio finally let me out of the room.
Not free, exactly. Just allowed to move around the upper floors with an escort. My escort was always Elio.
We fell into a routine of awkward silence and careful distance.
