The blood between us
678 Words
Juliette’s POV
The greenhouse went silent.
Juliette stared at the figure in front of her, black cloak falling away, face emerging through shadows and dust.
Her chest tightened.
“Rafe?” she whispered.
The boy she’d mourned.
The brother she thought she’d lost.
He was taller now. Sharper. But the eyes-the eyes were still his.
Still full of fire.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” she breathed.
Rafe tilted his head, smiling faintly. “And you were supposed to stay hidden.”
Juliette’s knees weakened, but she didn’t fall.
Lucien stepped between them, blade drawn.
“You’re not welcome here,” he growled.
“Relax,” Rafe said. “I’m not here to kill anyone. Yet.”
His eyes flicked to Juliette.
“But you should’ve left when you had the chance.”
Juliette’s heart twisted.
“You knew? That I was still alive?”
“I’ve always known.”
Her throat closed.
“Then—why didn’t you come back?”
Rafe’s smile dropped.
“Because coming back meant choosing a side.”
He stepped closer.
“I chose survival.”
Juliette flinched as the words hit.
“You chose to abandon me.”
“I chose to live.”
Lucien moved in a blur, placing himself between them again.
“You have sixty seconds to explain yourself before I cut your tongue out.”
Rafe didn’t flinch.
“I work for the Hollow Court now.”
Juliette gasped.
“You’re with them?”
“I’m with the truth,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “And trust me, little flame, Lucien’s not giving it to you.”
Lucien tensed.
Juliette’s voice trembled. “What truth?”
Rafe’s expression softened for the first time. “The pact wasn’t just a curse. It was a crown.”
Juliette blinked. “A what?”
Rafe gestured toward the statue—the one etched with To the Daughter of the Pact.
“They made it for you,” he said. “Before you were even born.”
She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. I wasn’t supposed to be part of this.”
Lucien’s voice cut in, low and sharp.
“She was never meant to be their puppet.”
“But she was meant to rule,” Rafe snapped. “She’s the last of their bloodline. The true heir.”
Juliette’s hands shook.
Heir.
Bloodline.
Puppet.
Queen.
Everything spun in her head.
“Why me?” she whispered.
Rafe looked at her gently now. Like a brother again.
“Because you’re the only one with the power to end it.”
An explosion rocked the western wing.
Lucien turned. “They’re breaching the wards.”
“We don’t have time for this,” he growled.
He grabbed Juliette’s wrist.
But she yanked free.
“No.”
They both turned.
She stared at them—at the man who bought her and the brother who left her.
“I don’t trust either of you.”
Lucien’s jaw clenched.
Rafe looked like he expected it.
Juliette drew a breath, voice low.
“I’m done being moved like a piece on your board.”
Lucien stepped forward. “Then take control.”
“Too late,” Rafe muttered. “They’re already coming for her.”
Lucien turned sharply. “Who?”
Rafe’s voice was quiet. Final.
“The Court.”
From behind the greenhouse, a slow rhythm began—boots marching on gravel, weapons being drawn.
Juliette felt the air change.
It was like the world was holding its breath.
Lucien grabbed her hand.
“This is going to get bloody.”
She looked him in the eye.
“I was born for blood.”
Rafe tossed a blade at her feet.
“Let’s see if you were born to spill it.”
Juliette picked it up.
The metal was warm.
Too familiar.
She raised her chin.
“I won’t run.”
From the trees beyond the glass, a hundred eyes stared back.
Figures in silver masks stepped forward.
And Juliette smiled.
“Come and get me.”
- Writer
