Page 54 of Two Sides of Sin

“June wants to get out of the house,” I said, the lie rolling off my tongue with a smoothness that made my skin crawl. “It’s her birthday. I figured she’s spent enough time staring at these walls. We’re going to the theatre in town.”

Cain’s eyes narrowed, his head tilting a fraction of an inch. He looked at June, his stare so invasive I wanted to put my body between them and never move again. “The theatre? Today?”

“It’s her birthday, Cain,” I countered, my voice hardening. “She wants to see a movie, She can.”

“What movie?” Cain asked, taking a slow, predatory step closer to us.

My mind raced.

"The Lost Boys,” I blurted out. “It just premiered. Everyone’s talking about it. It’s supposed to be a vampire flick.”

Cain paused. A flicker of something that might have been a smirk, or a sneer, touched his lips. "The Lost Boys,” he repeated, the irony of the title hanging in the air like a noose. “Sleep all day. Party all night. Never grow old. Never die. How… thematic. A fantasy that never quite loses its lustre for the mortal mind, does it?”

He looked at his gold watch, then back at me. I could see him calculating. He didn’t think I’d run. He couldn’t imagine I was that brave—or that stupid. In his mind, I was already broken to his will.

“Fine,” Cain said, stepping aside with a mocking flourish of his hand. “Go. Enjoy your fictions. But remember, Julian… the table is set for eight o’clock. Do not be late.”

I threw the bags into the back of my Camaro, the heavy metal door slamming with a finality that made June flinch. I didn’t let out a breath until I had the engine turned over, the dual exhaust rumbling a violent, beautiful sound of defiance.

I jammed the car into gear, the tires screaming as they bit into the gravel of the long, winding driveway. We passed through the iron gates, the stone gargoyles watching us with their blind, mossy eyes. I pushed the car faster, the Manor shrinking in the rearview mirror until it was nothing more than a shrinking dot on the horizon.

The air in the car was dead and deafening until we hit the highway. Beside me, June let out a wet, choked gasp, the sound of her finally breaking under the weight of it all. And heaven help me, it was the trigger. The twisted absurdity of the afternoon finally caught up to me, and a manic laugh spilled out of my chest along with her.

It was an infatuating, hysterical sound, the kind of laughter that comes from a man who has just walked through a minefield and realised he still has his legs.

"The Lost Boys?” June gasped, her hands flying to her face as she started to giggle through her tears. “Julian, you’re an idiot… They stopped playing that movie weeks ago.”

“It was the first thing I could think of!” I shouted, the adrenaline finally hitting my system like a freight train. I reached over, grabbing her hand and lacing my fingers with hers. I was shaking, my palms slick with cold sweat against the steering wheel. The Camaro roared, the speedometer climbing as the wind whipped through the open windows, smelling of pine and freedom.

I reached over and flicked on the radio. “Run to You” by Bryan Adams was playing, I was a traitor, a liar, and a marked man. But as I looked at June, I knew I’d never made a better decision in my life.

The sanctuary of the cabin was still three hours away. We just had to hope we were far enough ahead of a man who had undeniably no concept of mercy.

The car screamed. The V8 engine roaring under the hood, we were flying down the two lane highway, the night air whipping through the open windows, I couldn’t have felt more free.

The dashboard glowed with a dim light, casting shadows across June’s face. She looked radiant, terrified, but alive in a way the Manor never allowed. I could feel the adrenaline cooling into something thicker, something heavier. The fear of Cain was still there, a cold shadow at the edge of my mind, but it was being drowned out by the sheer, proximity-induced heat of the girl sitting next to me.

I reached over, my hand moving instinctively. I let my palm settle on her thigh.

The second my hand was on her, a jolt of electricity surged through me, nearly sending my foot dangerously heavy onto the accelerator. The heat radiating through the silk of her dress was utter arson against my palm. I heard her breath snag in her throat—a sharp, desperate intake of air that drowned out the highway. She didn’t freeze, and she didn’t retreat. She simply shifted, pressing her leg up into the heavy cage of my hand, yielding to the exact claim I was making.

I didn’t let go, my thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over her tense muscles. She was a live wire sitting right next to me, humming with a frantic energy that was my fault.

“Julian,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the tires.

“We’re almost there.”

“I know,” she said, and she turned her hand over on the seat, lacing her fingers with mine. Her palm was damp, her pulse racing against my touch.

She looked at me then, her eyes dark and searching in the strobe light flicker of the passing street lamps. There was a challenge in her gaze, an invitation that made my stomach tighten into a hard, painful knot. We both knew what tonight was. It wasn’t just an escape—it was a transition into something irreversible. We were both walking into the dark for the first time, and the weight of that shared innocence was a heavy, intoxicatingly thing.

The bracelet on her wrist clinked softly as she adjusted her grip on my hand. I squeezed back, my fingers digging into her warm flesh. I wanted to tell her how much it was costing me to keep my eyes on the road.

I looked down at my hand on her leg, my large fingers against her small frame. The contrast was a reminder of the power I held, and the way I wanted to use it to cherish her, to worship, and protect her, to finally bridge the gap I’d spent a lifetime maintaining.

“You’re driving too fast,” she murmured, a tiny, teasing smile playing on her lips.

“I’m trying to get you to a bed before I lose my mind.”