Page 41 of Two Sides of Sin

The drive back from Annie’s memorial the next day was quiet. My chest felt hollow—an ache that follows a long bout of hysteria. The plot was beautiful, littered with flowers and keepsakes—a stark contrast to the lonely, marble dignity of Nana’s grave. It was so… Annie. Bright, even in the dirt. I’d wept as I spoke to her, telling her how different the world felt and how I’d give anything just to hear her laugh one more time.

Now, as the iron gates of the Manor close behind me, I lean my head against the glass of the window.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice raspy. “For taking me.”

Keeping his eyes locked on the road ahead, Julian reaches over and laces his fingers with mine.

“You don’t ever have to thank me, June. I am here for you. Always.”

We pull up to the house, and I look at the statues and the rose garden where Nana is buried. It’s strange how this place, which used to feel like a fortress I was only allowed to visit on a leash, now feels like a carefully constructed second home.

“Do you want to go back to the garden and read?” Julian asks softly. “Or do you want to go upstairs and lie down? I can bring you some tea. Or just stay with you, we could watch a movie?.”

“Stay with me?” I asked. “I don’t want to be alone with my head right now.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

The Manor is quiet as we head towards the grand staircase. I catch a glimpse of Cain standing at the end of the hall, framed by the amber light of the library. A quiet intensity anchors him as he watches us with his trademark unreadable, creepy expression.

I shiver and lean into Julian. Ignoring his brother entirely, he steers me up the staircase, consumed by getting me into the safety of my room.

The rain assaults the Manor roof tonight, hammering down on the old stone.

It lashes against the heavy glass, sounding like thousands of tiny, frantic fingers trying to claw their way inside. The sky is black, periodically torn apart by lightning that turns the shadows of my room into something unfamiliar. Then comes the thunder—a low, rumbling growl that vibrates through the ancient stone walls.

I’m buried under a mountain of pillows, shivering. I feel like that girl again, the one who lived in a house where the storms outside were often quieter than the ones inside.

“Julian?”

He’s been sitting in the armchair by the cold fireplace. He moves instantly. The bed groans as he slides in beside me. The scent of him wraps around me like a blanket.

“I’m here, Junebug,” he murmurs.

I reach for him, pulling myself into his warmth. I press my cheek against his chest, right over the spot where I know my name is etched into his skin forever, and as the house shudders, the walls of the Manor seem to dissolve.

Suddenly, the silk beneath me feels like scratchy cotton. The air smells like stale, cheap beer and cigarette smoke. I’m ten years old again. The sky is screaming, and my father’s shouting has finally stopped, replaced by the heavy silence of his drunken sleep.

I remember the bite of the rain as I slid my window open. I ran through the mud until I reached the base of the Blackburns’ iron gates. Bypassing the front door entirely, I headed straight for the window I knew was always unlocked.

I remember the struggle of the climb, my small fingers catching on the ivy. When I finally tumbled into Julian’s room, I was a drowned rat, shaking so hard my teeth were clicking.

Julian wasn’t asleep. He was sitting up, a book in his hand, looking like a little prince in the amber glow of a single candle. Without a word, he set his book aside and pulled back the heavy blankets to welcome me in.

“Come here, June,” he’d said back then.

I’d crawled in beside him, and he’d wrapped his arms around me, shielding me from the flashes of light that turned his room into a gallery of monsters. I remember the steady thrum of his heart against my ear—the first time I realised that as long as I was near him, the sky couldn’t hurt me.

Chapter 31

Cain

Iwalked through the silent Manor, the floorboards absorbing my footsteps like a sponge. The stones felt incredibly heavy tonight, dense with years of buried secrets and the suffocating scent of lilies that had followed June here from her grandmother’s burial. The house was holding its breath—a predator lying in wait—and I was the only one who truly understood the disturbing rhythm of its dark heart.

Now that June was living under our roof permanently, the restraint I’d practiced for months was starting to disintegrate. reaction:

I couldn’t stay away from her. Almost every night, I found myself slipping past her bedroom door, moving like a phantom until I was standing right beside her bed. I had to be careful, moving with a silent, hyper-vigilance to make sure Julian didn’t catch me. The last thing I needed was him throwing a massive tantrum and ruining the only peace I had. Reassured by the quiet hallway, I would stay there in the dark for hours, haunting my own home, just watching her sleep.

I had memorised the exact rise and fall of her breathing. I knew how she sighed when she shifted in the sheets. I would reach out and trail my fingers through her dark hair, wrapping the silken strands around my knuckles, leaving a lingering trace of my scent on her pillows. Lately, I’d stepped beyond just watching. I had started moving small things. It wasn’t enough to terrify her yet, but it was just enough to let her subconscious know that I was already inside her sanctuary.