Page 83 of Two Sides of Sin

“Jules?”

I stopped as a soldier stepped out from the shadow of a massive stone pillar. It was Jace, a kid from the second platoon. He lowered his rifle slightly, looking confused as he took in my blood-soaked tactical gear and the unwavering manic intensity I knew was radiating off me.

“What are you doing here, man?” Jace whispered, glancing at the roster clipped to his vest. “Command didn’t put you on vault guard rotation tonight. You’re supposed to be standing down.”

“I’m not here for guard duty,” I replied. I kept my face blank, though my heart was hammering an anxiety induced pulse. “I’m just here to see someone I know.”

Jace’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh. Right. Okay. Who are you looking for?”

“Her name is Sage.”

“Talk to Martha. The older lady with the grey bun over by the far crypt entrance. She’s keeping the list of the evacuees.”

I bypassed him without another word, my heavy boots making barely a scraping sound on the stone floor. I found the older woman precisely where he said she would be, organising a stack of blankets.

When I asked for Sage, Martha took one look at my appearance and gasped, but the desperate, human pleading in my eyes must have overridden her fear. She picked up a lantern and motioned for me to follow her.

I trailed behind her through the labyrinth of sleeping people, my chest tightening with every step. We wove through rows of cots and blankets spread directly on the cold floor, until we reached a secluded, quiet corner near the old foundations.

Martha stopped, gesturing with a soft nod towards the recess before turning and giving me some privacy.

I stammered.

She was tucked into the very corner of the stone walls, curled on her side on a thin mattress. She had pulled the scratchy wool blanket all the way up to her chin, her dark, heavy waves spilling in a chaotic halo across the makeshift pillow.

I slowly sank to my knees beside her, ignoring the unyielding ache in my soul and body.. Up close, the stress of the night was visible in the faint, exhausted bags under her eyes, but to me, she had never looked more beautiful.

I had spent decades crying over her grave, convinced I would never see her face again. And yet, here she was. Breathing. Living.

She looked exactly like an angel while she slept. She was so perfect. God I missed her so much.

My angel. Back from the dead, finally.

The stone floor was freezing, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

Moving with a slow, deliberate caution that defied my massive frame, I lowered myself onto the narrow edge of the makeshift bed. I didn’t dare slide under the blanket with her. My tactical gear was still stiff with the dried blood of the men I had slaughtered, and I refused to let the physical evidence of my monstrous nature taint her.

Instead, I laid down on top of the covers, carefully shifting my weight until I was pressed flush against her back.

I held my breath, waiting for her to stir, waiting for her to wake up and scream. Would she freak out if she opened her eyes right now? If she woke up in a dim, crowded cellar to find the terrifying, blood-soaked soldier she barely knew wrapping his arms around her in the dark?

My mind was a racing, chaotic mess of anxiety and guilt. But the second my chest made contact with her back, the frantic noise in my head went dead silent, overridden by one impossible truth.

June is back. I am holding her, and she is alive.

I carefully slid my arm over her waist, resting my hand lightly against her stomach. Her body was so small, so fragile compared to the immortal, deadly machine Cain had turned me into. I buried my face in the heavy waves of her hair, inhaling the faint, intoxicating scent of her that I’ve missed so much.

Even if the universe was playing a cruel, twisted game with my sanity—even if some sick twist of fate tore her out of my arms again tomorrow—I would always have this. I would always have the memory of holding her in the dark, even if she never remembered it, because she was asleep.

The knot of torment that had lived in my chest for what felt like eternity slowly began to loosen. As I lay there, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing, a profound stillness washed over me. It was the most peace I had felt since the night she died all those years ago. It was the most alive I had felt since I watched the light permanently leave her at the hands of my twin brother.

Cain.

Just the thought of his name was a spark hitting a powder keg. The dark, alchemical venom in my blood flared to life. The memory of the silver blade, the blood on the forest floor, and the cold lack of pity in Cain’s eyes and heart, triggered a feral protectiveness inside me.

Operating on instinct, my arm tightened around her waist. I pulled Sage back, dragging her firmly and securely against my chest until there wasn’t a millimetre of space between us. She let out a soft, sleepy sigh, her body unconsciously relaxing into my rigid frame.

I will never let him hurt you again, I vowed silently into the dark, pressing my lips to the crown of her head. I will never let anyone hurt you again. For as long as her reincarnated soul would allow it, I would stay right by her side. I would be her shadow, her shield, and her ruin, if she’d let me.