Bound by betrayal

CHAPTER THREE: "Crimson morning "

Juliana’s Point of View

San Francisco – Exclusive Hotel Suite

The harsh light of morning sliced through the slats of the blinds, cutting into my skull like a million shards of glass. My head pounded, and my mouth felt dry, the remnants of last night’s wine clinging to the back of my throat. I groaned, slowly lifting my heavy eyelids. The room spun, and I grasped the edge of the bed, trying to steady myself. I felt cold,unnaturally so. The sheets were tangled beneath me, but there was something more pressing, something wrong.

I tried to sit up, but the world seemed to tilt, and I collapsed back against the pillows, my pulse racing. My fingers scraped at the side of my head, brushing through damp strands of hair. I blinked several times, clearing the fog from my vision, but what I saw didn’t make sense.

Blood.

It was everywhere.

The room was a scene from a nightmare. The plush carpet, once rich and vibrant, was now soaked in deep crimson. Shattered glass glinted in the dim light, reflecting jagged fragments of broken furniture. A chair, overturned. A lamp, its bulb shattered on the floor. The walls,painted in red. The cold smell of iron filled the air, sharp and metallic, choking me.

What the hell happened?

I pushed myself upright, nausea and panic threatening to overtake me. My hands shook as I reached for the sheets to pull them away from my body, my mind racing with confusion. I blinked again, trying to steady my thoughts. But as I looked down, I saw the blood on my hands.

My stomach lurched.

What was happening? What had I done?

I scrambled out of bed, my feet sliding on the slick carpet. I staggered, disoriented, toward the bathroom, desperate to wash away the nightmare that was unfolding before me. But before I could reach the door, my eyes caught sight of something,or rather, someone.

Nathan.

Except, not Nathan.

I froze.

His silhouette was still faintly visible on the floor near the edge of the bed, where I’d last seen him. But he wasn’t there. All that remained were pieces of his discarded clothes,his dark jacket, pants, shoes, and his phone. The clothes were neatly folded on the armchair by the window, as if he had planned to leave in the night and had done so deliberately. Nothing about it seemed urgent, or hasty. He was gone.

Where had he gone?

I stood motionless for a moment, my breath coming in short bursts. The panic gripped me tighter now, suffocating. My eyes scanned the room again. There was no sign of struggle. No indication of anyone else being here.

But there had to be.

Who else could have—

Suddenly, the door crashed open, the sound deafening. I whipped around, my heart leaping in my chest, every muscle in my body tensing.

A flood of uniformed officers stormed in. Guns raised, faces grim, their eyes locked onto me with accusation. My breath caught in my throat as I stepped back, mind spinning. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. They were everywhere,framing the room in blue and black, circling me.

I barely registered the figure that emerged from the crowd of officers at first. It was all too much,too fast.

Then I saw his face.

Nathan. But… not Nathan.

He stood there, now dressed in a sharp black suit, his hair combed neatly back. The once casual, charming man I had danced with the night before was now gone. In his place stood a stranger,cold, detached, and dressed in the authority of someone who had every right to be here.

A badge flashed in his hand, catching the light. A federal agent.

“Juliana Vegas,” he said, his voice flat, unemotional. “You’re under arrest for the murder of five individuals and involvement in a multi-million-dollar money laundering operation.”

I stumbled backward, my feet knocking against the edge of the bed. My mind couldn’t catch up with his words. I didn’t know what to say, what to think. This couldn’t be real. There had to be a mistake.

But the more I tried to form a coherent thought, the more panic bubbled to the surface.

“Murder?” I managed to whisper. “What—what are you talking about?”

Nathan’s eyes hardened, his gaze cutting through me with cold precision. “The bodies are in the next room. Multiple fatalities linked to a laundering scheme you’ve been orchestrating for years.”

“No,” I breathed, my chest tightening. “I—I'm not involved in any of this. I—” My voice cracked, and the words refused to come out right.

The officers began to close in on me, their hands reaching for the handcuffs at their belts. My legs gave out, and I sank to the floor, the cold tiles biting into my knees. A lump formed in my throat, my body shaking uncontrollably.

“No,” I repeated, louder now, panic rising like a tidal wave. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nathan, please! You have to believe me—”

But Nathan didn’t flinch. He didn’t look at me with the familiarity I had come to expect. There was nothing there but the harsh professionalism of a man carrying out a duty. A stranger wearing the mask of someone I once thought I knew.

The officers moved swiftly, expertly, and before I could do anything more, I felt the cold metal of handcuffs snap tightly around my wrists. My heart slammed against my ribcage as they yanked me to my feet.

“Nathan,” I gasped, tears welling in my eyes. “Please, tell them this isn’t me. You know I didn’t—”

He stepped back, his expression hardening further. “You’ll have your chance to explain in court, Ms. Vegas,” he said coldly, his voice devoid of the warmth it once held. “You’re not getting out of this.”

I tried to reach for him, my hand straining against the cuffs, but it was useless. I was being dragged toward the door, away from the only man who could have made sense of this. The man who had taken me by the hand only hours ago and made me laugh. The man who was now accusing me of things I couldn’t even comprehend.

His eyes didn’t soften. They remained cold and calculating, and for a moment, I wondered if he had ever cared about me at all.

The door closed behind me with a heavy thud, and I was led down a corridor of sterile white walls. My mind whirled as I tried to process what was happening. How could this be happening? What was Nathan really after?

I stole a glance back just before they shoved me into the waiting police car. Through the rear window, I saw him watching me—his arms crossed, standing alone in the hallway.

And in that moment, I knew.

I had been a pawn. A tool in whatever game he was playing.

And I had no idea what kind of monster I was dealing with.