Page 68 of Two Sides of Sin

“It’s nice to meet you, Noah,” she said, her voice soft, melodic, and perfectly identical to the one that had haunted my nightmares for an eternity. She stepped out of the shadows, the late afternoon sun catching the dark waves of her hair. “I’m Sage.”

“Pretty name,” Noah said, oblivious to the fact that I was actively bleeding out internally next to him. “Well, Sage, if Julian here starts glaring at the stone structures again, just throw a piece of plaster at him. He’s practically indestructible.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” Sage said slowly. Her eyes remained locked on mine. She took a tentative step toward us, her hand tracing the edge of the stone pew I had collapsed against moments ago. “Are you sure you’re alright, Julian? You looked… like you were in pain.”

Noah glanced at me, his smile fading slightly as he noticed I hadn’t moved a muscle, nor had I spoken a single word since she climbed down.

Chapter 45

Sage

Iwatched the soldier Julian stare at me, and a strange, nervous flutter kicked up in my chest.

He was frankly terrifying. Easily over six foot five and built like a tank, he filled the ruined space of the chapel with an overwhelming, heavy energy. His tactical gear strained over his shoulders, and he had the kind of sharp hardened features that belonged on a recruitment poster or a warning label. But right now, standing stiffly in the sunlight, he looked less like a lethal weapon and more like a man who had just taken a bullet to the chest without any armour.

When I asked if he was in pain, his jaw ticked. A muscle feathered along his cheek. He looked at me like I was a live explosive.

“I’m fine,” he finally spoke.

The sound of his voice sent a sudden, inexplicable shiver down my spine. It was deep, rough, and controlled—like rocks grinding together at the bottom of a riverbed.

“Just… lost my footing,” he continued, his dark eyes dropping to the floor before snapping back to my face. “It won’t happen again, ma’am.”

Ma’am. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. The sheer absurdity of this massive, brooding man tripping over a flat piece of masonry and then calling me ‘ma’am’ like a Victorian gentleman was unexpectedly funny. But there was nothing funny about his eyes. They were a beautiful, deep honey brown and drowning in a heavy, desperate intensity that made my heart beat faster.

“Well, try to keep your boots on the ground, Terminator,” Noah chimed in, leaning casually against the remains of a stone pillar. He offered me another easy, bright smile, unbothered by his friend’s awkwardness. “Don’t mind him, Sage. He’s got the social skills of a cinderblock, but he’s good in a fight. We just needed to clear the sector to make sure you art-history types don’t get ambushed by anything nastier than a pigeon.”

“I appreciate the escort,” I said, tearing my gaze away from Julian to look at Noah. “The scaffolding is a bit precarious, so knowing the ground level is secure helps.”

“Anytime,” Noah said, tapping his temple. “If you need anything heavy lifted, just point Julian at it. He doesn’t know how to relax anyway.”

I glanced back at Julian, fully expecting him to roll his eyes or snap back at his friend. Instead, I found him staring intensely at me.

The fierceness of his stare was suffocating. It wasn’t creepy or predatory—it was a look of pure, sheer shock. He looked at my bare skin like he was staring at a phantom wound, or a ghost only he could see. A weird, heavy sense of déjà vu washed over me, a phantom ache in my chest that had no logical origin. My fingers instinctively moved up to trace the centre of my collarbone, right where his eyes were locked.

“The sector is clear,” Julian clipped out abruptly. His voice was tighter now and devoid of any emotion. He took a sharp step back, putting distance between us as if my very presence was burning him. “Let’s move, Noah.”

“Alright, alright, keep your Kevlar on,” Noah sighed, pushing off the pillar. He shot me an apologetic look. “Duty calls. Try not to fall off the ceiling, Sage. It was nice meeting you.”

“You too, Noah,” I replied softly.

Julian didn’t say another word. He didn’t even say goodbye. He just turned on his heel with military precision, the heavy fabric of his uniform snapping, and strode out of the chapel like he was fleeing a burning building.

Noah jogged after him, his voice echoing down the hall. “Hey, wait up! Seriously, man, what is your problem? You look like you’re going to throw up.”

Their voices faded into the cavernous silence of the ruined cathedral, leaving me standing alone in the dust.

I let out a breath I hadn’t noticed I was holding.

Who was that guy?

I had met plenty of intense military men here, guys who had seen too much and spoke too little. But Julian was different. The way he looked at me—the raw, broken familiarity in his terrifyingly beautiful eyes made no sense. We had never met. I would have remembered a man who looked like a god of war.

Yet, as I turned back to the scaffolding, a strange, undeniable truth settled into the pit of my stomach. I hoped I’d see him again.

I tried to focus on the window. I really did. I spent the next two hours meticulously stabilising a fractured segment of the medieval stone tracks, but my hands were unsteady, and my mind was absent.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the stark, bloodless shock on Julian’s face. I felt the bizarre, heavy gravity of his stare. It made no sense. I was a twenty-four year old art restorer from the city. He was a terrifying, battle-hardened soldier who looked like he ate people and bullets for breakfast. We belonged in different universes, yet the moment his eyes locked onto mine, it felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath me.